Memories have a way of tattooing themselves into our brain; time, place, surroundings, thoughts at the time, scents, even colors and sound. This Sunday, September 11, 2022 will refresh in vivd ways the Twin Towers Tragedy. For some it not only lingers longer, but also in painful ways recounts vivid memories—where they were and what they were doing. For most of us, we too, relive vivid recalls of 9:11 a.m. 9-9-11. And yesterday, Thursday, September 8m 2022, (this time a bittersweet memory) added yet one more graphic memory milieu to our trove: The Queen is dead.

Such dramatic, world encompassing, memories do not happen every day: November 23, 1963, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, June , 1968, the assassination of The Rev Martin Luther King, Jr. April 4, 1968, the assassination of Robert Kennedy, August 19, 1972, August 2, 1990, the start of the Gulf War. —to name a few. As do many (maybe most) of you I recall vividly where I was, the ones with me, and many other details.

Memorials and public expressions of the memory of such loss and sadness are observed. These memories not only honor those whose lives were lost, but also offer the opportunity for contemplating the repair of our souls; both individual and collective. To be sure, a moment of silence, a wreath laid at a monument, not even parades are sufficient to solace such grief. But it is something of a pin put down marking the spot—-an acknowledgement of the mortality of us all.

Being mortal gives us an indelible connection with our fellow human beings. It offers opportunity for us to grieve with those who grieve and to rejoice with those who rejoice. As a means of marking our mutual humanity we place memorial stones. There is a long history of such markers. There are a couple of places in the Old Testament that stand out to me; The first is Jacob’s encounter with God, where he marked what he called Bethel-“The House of God.” The other one is when upon crossing into the Promised Land the Lord directed them to place memorial stones as a means of teaching future generations the significance of this crossing.

I am a member of The United Methodist Church which observes only two Sacraments; Baptism and Holy Communion. In the Sacrament of Holy Communion, the words of Jesus,, “…do this in remembrance of me,” are spoken. We do not hold that something magical happens as the incantation is given, but we do acknowledge the Presence of God, a the power of that Presence as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for all. Memory is a powerful motivator. Last week Uvaldi, Texas came alive out of powerful memories of the 21 of its students and teachers were gunned down in their school last year. It was powerfully bitter-sweet.

Gwen Kendall Hall, a relative of mine did consummate research into the origin of my home church, The Deepstep United Methodist Church. She discovered that one of John Wesley’s ordinands held a class meeting in the home of a church member, launching the church. Her research was so thorough and detailed that the United Methodist Historical Society designated Deepstep United Methodist Church a historical site. Although this sign is not a stone, it is yet one other way of marking significant mileposts in the life of that church. Here’s the Marker.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

The Vietnam War began to boil over in the late 1960’s; communal stress infected the USA like an epidemic, intensifying the “Cold War” gloom—that still hovered like The Sword of Damocles. Hardly anything steals joy more than living under the specter of fear! Enter—Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-in, bringing torrents of laughter. It was created in September 1967 to be a one-episode, idiosyncratic, slapstick, television comedy show. It touched a deep cord of human hunger for humor in the American public! Its unbridled sheer laughter was both sunshine and refreshing rain for our parched souls. Four months later, launched as a series, Laugh-in exploded onto TV unseating a Monday night mainstay, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. After Laugh-in, many of the original comedians—such as Goldie Hawn and Lily Tomlin became solid comedy personalities.

Good humor is vital to a healthy life. A solid precursor to the idea that humor-helps-health, may be found in the Book of Proverbs:it is good medicine—a happy heart tends to be a healthy heart. But hold your horses here; let’s linger on the laughter matter: Almost everyone enjoys a good joke, or humorous story. Vacation misadventures often become treasured family humor stories, told and retold for years.

And then there are the “Dad Jokes!” (“Bad Jokes” —my daughters call them.) There are tons of Dad Joke books—some better than others; bookstores have whole sections of jokebooks. People love to laugh—especially, a good belly-laugh. Laughter is like refreshing rain of a dry field; cleansing, nourishing, and refreshing

Humor should never be used to embarrass, belittle, or otherwise cause hurt or harm in any way. Appropriate laughter can loosen tense situations, and often brings cogent insight to discussions. Whether you’re guffawing at a sitcom on TV or quietly giggling at a newspaper cartoon, laughter does you good. Laughter is a great form of stress relief, and that’s no joke. A good sense of humor can’t cure all ailments, but data is mounting about the positive things laughter can do.(The Mayo Clinic).

An ironic episode of laughter in Bible is in the book of Genesis; Sarah (90 years old) overhears messengers telling her husband, Abraham, that she would get pregnant and bear a son. She couldn’t hold it back. Sarah laughed! Abraham apparently had not told Sarah, that he, too, had laughed earlier when the Lord told him, 1) that at 93 years old—and childless— he would become the father of nations and , 2) that—Sarah would bear him a son! Abraham laughed—-as Sarah would later when she heard that news!

Their laughter was not entirely joyous humor—-it came as much from disbelief as derision of this bizarre news. To paraphrase Mary Poppins, “….a little bit of (laughter) makes the medicine go down…” However, after little Isaac was born, lots of laughter likely filled the tent as he grew up. The Bible is peppered with references to laughter (not all are warm-fuzzies). These verses from Psalm 126 illuminate the joy of laughter; The Israelites had experienced a dramatic change of their circumstances. God had blessed them mightily; their immediate response was joyful laughter!

Let this truism linger long: Laughter helps tide us over in the dark times of life whether through pain, sickness, grief, loneliness, disappointment, frustration or anger. Paige, my late wife, always recognized that she was not the only one suffering. Often she said, “Everyone is dealing with something.”, thus we focused on filling life with laughter. Yep Laughter is like a good medicine!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

My seventh grade history teacher was fresh out of the Marines. He was also the principal of the school, and the coach for the girls’ and boys’ basketball teams. Whenever I attempted something I thought too difficult for me, he pushed me; afterward he would remark with an affable grin, “Now, was that hard!?” I usually blushed and thought, “Well it wasn’t as difficult as I had first thought..”

Some years ago, while my in-laws were visiting we watched an acrobatic performance on TV. A young lady was completing a series of seemingly impossible body contortions throughout her performance. Upon her successful completion of those difficult moves, my father-in-law said, dryly, “She didn’t learn to do that since just last Thursday!” Almost anything a person does with great success, routinely starts off with some degree of difficulty; a child learning to walk, learning to ride a bicycle, learning Latin, or performing brain surgery; little, and usually difficult steps are the beginnings of success.

Difficulties can make you stronger, more able to deal with the challenges of life. Notice that I said, “…can…” Simply being difficult, does not make it a curriculum for success or even overcoming an obstacle. But the opportunity is there, and may even be the precursor of accomplishment. Sharon Greenthal Blogged; The idea that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is based on the theory that by going through difficult experiences, people build up their strength for the next, possibly more painful event that may occur. While this may not be “the gospel” it projects much truth; Excellence is derived from skilled, dedicated effort; often failures open doors of opportunity.

Persistence suggests pay off when facing difficulties. President Calvin Coolidge said, – Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

When Zach, my grandson, was navigating the ranks toward the rank of Eagle Scout, he had to overcome many difficulties along the Merit Badge route. Some more difficult than others. The most difficult is the Eagle Project. He found that having conquered the many steps to each Merit Badge, he was better prepared for this final difficulty.

Jesus told the story of a persistent widow, facing an intransigent magistrate who kept refusing to hear her case. But she never gave up. She persisted in bringing her case before that difficult man, until finally, he gave in. Her success, in face of what seemed impossible odds, was due to her unflagging zeal to overcome the stark difficulty of dealing with this official. Her facing such difficulty brings to mind Winston Churchill’s speech where he said, ““Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never— a more humorous echo of persistence, comes from Doris Day’s song,”High Hopes;”

Next time you’re found with your chin on the ground
There’s a lot to be learned so look around
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant

But he’s got high hopes
He’s got high hopes
He’s got high apple pie
In the sky hopes.

I leave you with this profound comment on difficulty, from G. K. Chesterton; The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.(Chesterton was an English writer, philosopher, lay theologian, and literary and art critic.)

I am intrigued by the definition of “day” by Merriam-Webster: “the time of light between one night and the next.” It’s simplicity speaks expansively; chronology, cosmology, philosophy, even theology—percolate its significance. Give that a minute. Consider this; chronologically, a day lasts 86,400 seconds—but who’s counting!?

“Day” is an often used, hardly noticed—-word; A Day in the life of… a day’s journey….a day of work…a bad day,…a good day….a new day dawning…on this day in history…. on it goes. A pop song by Diana Washington, speaks volumes:
What a difference a day makes
24 little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain

This morning over breakfast a friend and I discussed his children and my grands. Our time together brought out mock astonishment from both of us; how they have grown up so fast—one day they’re little—the next day an empty nest, so to speak. A day dealing with diapers, the next they’re gone. Hyperbolic, yes! But you have heard the common conversation comment, “Where did those days go!?” Difficult days do not seem to go quickly, and days of sheer pleasure seem to evaporate as mist before the rising sun.

We tend to have odd views of a day. Someone may say, “Well, back in the day….” —meaning years, or generations, or eons ago. But saying “On the day of 01/10 Umpteen, such and such happened nails down a precise happening. Or take the old Southern comment, “Y’all come to see us!” Which is a vacant invitation; whereas saying “Please come have dinner with us at 1234 Real Street on Juvember 9, at 5:00 p.m” —That is a day with a specific invitation.

On a more important scale, what does a day mean to you? Only you can decide its significance. At the risk of being morbid, the stark reality is that no one knows how many days are left in her/his life, yet knowing the death rate is 100%—-alone places high alert for claiming the moment. Carpe diem is Latin for “live in the moment” (RWV Revised Willis Version). Of course it is virtually impossible to make every moment of life the pinnacle of existence. But it is possible to think of a Day as metaphor of life; there is darkness and there is light. Darkness is overcome by light.

One of the creation stories the Bible exults about light; The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out. Also, the most exciting day for Christians is introduced as “…the dawn of the first day of the week…” From the bedrocks of despair, this little band of Jesus’ friends soared to the supreme heights of hope—that Day.

Gloom doesn’t always explode into ecstasy, but despair never has the last word. It is fairly common for someone saying ‘goodbye’ to say, “Have a Good Day!” As Diana Washington sang, “What a difference a day makes!” —segueing Psalm 118:24 into our vernacular:This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it.

©)Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

A couple of nights before I started writing this installment, our neighborhood was beleaguered by dramatic thunderstorms. My grandmother, who grew up in, and lived a lifetime in Gwinnett County, called such loud flamboyant weather, “Electrical Storms.” This electrical storm was spectacular; jagged stabs of dazzling lightning danced across the skies; a colorful spectacle, something like lore of the Old Norse god, Thor, hurtling his jagged lightning bolts onto the earth.

Zach, my grandson and I stood spellbound in our carport, as this marvelous mixture of light show and sound unfolded—punctuated with continuous loud, crashing booms of thunder. As the thunder rolled, I thought of Rip Van Winkle who, having imbibed overmuch brew, offered by a strange sojourner, slept twenty years—through the American Revolution; he thought he was hearing games of ninepins played by his strange new friends. But when he awakened from his slumber, he discovered the booming noises were the the Revolution, not games of nine pins. The Revolution, now over—-had dramatically changed his world .

Storms can birth remarkable changes; both in landscape or life. That afternoon, in our neighborhood the only real drama was a fallen tree and utility pole across the major street that runs behind our house. One, or both, took out neighborhood electricity for six hours, blocking the street for the duration. Comparatively, there was no harm; when at the momen;t there were news reports of devastating flooding and storms in Appalachian areas of Kentucky.

Was there ever a more appropriate message than the one Charles A Tindley wrote? .
When the storms of life are raging,
Stand by me (stand by me);
When the storms of life are raging,
Stand by me (stand by me);
When the world is tossing me
Like a ship upon the sea
Thou Who rulest wind and water,
Stand by me (stand by me). He goes on to say, In the midst of tribulation,
Stand by me…In the midst of persecution,…and, When I’m growing old and feeble,…

The past two and a half years of the Pandemic have reinforced the reality that you can survive, and actually thrive in the midst of storms. It is more than anecdotal that families and communities pulling together, become more caring, increasing the value of their relationships. Not all, of course, but many psychologists will point out the positive difference it makes in families and communities who—not just weather the storm—but also come out better for it. Basically, it depends upon their attitude—the only thing you have control of.

An emotionally disturbing, physically, and possibly life-threatening storm endangered the ancient prophet, Elijah. Chapter 19 tells the entire bazarre story; and yet—the prophet grew stronger and became quite the leader, having gone through the vision, and actual, storm.

A dramatic storm at night, in the midst of the Sea of Galilee, threatened a boatload of Jesus’ disciples. Terrified, they shook him awake, pleading for his help. Of course he calmed the sea, but I think, more importantly, his attitude and demeanor was just as calming for them. When a storm has passed on, we tend to relax; even in the midst of cleanup, we feel a sense of relief. Even more reassuring, and reinforcing is when someone demonstrates confidence, hope, and a sense of joyful anticipation; especially with a splash of humor in the situation.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

In the midst of a snowstorm, this humorous sign:

Early in my life, my family had several milk-cows; Maude, Pet, Daisy, Bessie, Elsie (who was the spitting image of Borden’s Jersey, Elsie), and—Star. Family lore has it that as a toddler, I gave Star her name. As the story goes, when Star was born, my mom and dad took me to the feedlot to see the new calf; just as the sun was setting I was asked what name should we give the little calf? I looked up, and seeing the glow of the evening star, said “Star!” And thus, Star was named. It made a good story anyway.

When she grew up, Star became the Alpha Cow—if there is such. Usually our cows grazed in the pasture behind our house. Occasionally they were herded down the dirt road to the pasture along side Deepstep Creek. My task became herding them up that road back to the feedlot. My job became a lot easier because, once I opened the gate from the pasture, Star led the little herd in the proverbial “Bee-line” to the feedlot. She was definitely in charge, and to my great joy, she would guide them there quickly and safely! Task done! Much to my relief!

Fast forward a bunch of years—the dawning of the Global Positioning System. My first GPS was a Garmin-mount-on-the-dash thingy. A friend of mine named the female voice of his GPS “Nadine.” I planned to name mine; I thought of how Ole Star would lead the cows home to the feedlot; I told the story of Star to my young granddaughter, Katie. She not only liked the idea, but also said, “Papa, it was a Star that guided the Wise Men to Bethlehem!” That nailed it for me! I named the female voice “Star.”

GPS operations now have become astoundingly precise. For example, we now know why those intriguing “Corn Mazes”—so popular at fall festivals—can be so precisely intricate. Professionals program a GPS on a farm tractor, setting it to guide the tractor making fantastic, labyrinthian, trails in a cornfield. Even in a cornfield, a trusted guide is a treasure immeasurable!

In a splash of ironic Eastern humor, Jesus warned his followers not to follow blind guides; they lead to disaster. He was pointing out how important it is, not only to have a goal, but also to follow reliable leadership, a trusted guide. On another occasion Jesus called some leaders “Blind leaders,” and condemned them for their faulty, if not outright false guidance.

Another sense in which following a star is rewarding; following toward a worthy goal, as the Magi did—which Katie clearly pointed out. The Magi knew from diligent, life-long study, this star signaled a game-changer. A powerful vocational calling, or a deeply felt summons is like that star in the East, compelling, like a lodestone— virtually irresistible in it’s command over one’s life. Jesus likened such a call to a Pearl merchant searching for sumptuous pearls. Seeking such a “star” becomes a magnificent obsession, which is likely to lead to a life lived with joy.

Vocationally, finding and following that “star” gives one a satisfaction reaching far beyond what financial compensation can offer. Some months back, I mentioned Bill Powell, who years ago was a morning DJ on WMAZ radio in Macon, GA. Bill often told his morning ride-to-work-radio-audience, “If I didn’t need this job to make a living, I would do this for free!” It was obvious he had found and followed his star!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

My garden has been a little bit like Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree; simple, symbolic, and—sullen. But with the help of my daughter, and an occasional input from our lawn-care guy, things are looking better. Merriam-Webster defines “Garden” variously; a …”plot of ground where herbs, fruits, flowers, or vegetables are cultivated (or)…a container (such as a window box) planted with usually a variety of small plants… (or) an open-air eating or drinking place.” My garden only faintly resembles any one of the above. But I do not lose hope.

As I reflect on it, actually the Earth emerged as a garden! You may take Genesis 1-2 literally, or consider the Universe evolving over billions of years. Either way, you pretty much understand that we all started in a garden. My take on this is that God is, first of all, a gardner. You may wonder that since I grew up on a farm (in middle-Georgia), why I’m this inept gardner. One must actually garden, to become a gardner. As I grew up, my dad was in charge of our garden; Planting, cultivating, harvesting, all were his. I was often pressed into weed-control, but that did not translate into understanding the secrets of gardening.

But I digress; a garden by whatever measure, is a wonder, a joy to behold, a blessing. This year for Father’s Day, my daughters gave me a membership to The Atlanta Botanical Garden: as it turns out membership includes scores of other botanical gardens nationwide. Last week I took a friend on my first visit to The Atlanta Botanical Garden, and we strolled more than two miles in this paradise; punctuated by a mid-day lunch in the wonderful onsite restaurant. The experience checked off every point in Webster’s list! The beauty is exquisite!

There were some necessary crafted trails, bridges, and an elevated canopy walk for navigating the Garden; it suggests to me striking similarities to the archetypal “Garden of Eden.” Throughout the world, there are untold numbers of gardens; from extravagant to mundane—each is of significance to its creator(s). It is said the Hellenistic culture called the Hanging Gardens of Babylon one of the Seven Wonders of the World. You and I can only dream of their beauty, but the memory of their uncanny beauty lingers in fact and fiction.

When the wicked Prophet, Balaam discovered God’s favor of the Israelites, his heart was touched, and he reversed the direction of his assault. For only that brief moment, he saw the beauty of the land—gardens, green growing things, and true elements of beauty. As twisted as Balaam’s mentality was, I see his ever-so-brief transformation as a direct manifestation beautiful gardens can bring about.

For a few years, I lived in a small town in South Georgia when the local hospital board decided to beautify its landscape. They designed marvelous small gardens where ambulatory patients could stroll, sit, and view; escaping the dreary confines of a drab hospital room. A wealthy local land owner complained loudly and long that landscaping would be a waste of taxpayers’ money. Fortunately his voice did not carry the day, and the beauty of the gardens won.

The prophet, Amos, told his people that God would deliver them; among the things to expect would be that they would be able to plant gardens. More recently, gardens were favored; during the lean times of WWII, “Victory Gardens” were prominent. They not only boosted morale–by lifting the spirits of citizens; many of whom were not directly involved in the “war effort”—but also they helped the nation save on transportation, food for the military, as well as peripheral benefits.

My gardening skills will improve, albeit slowly. I often turn to our local garden-guru, Walter Reeves and the University of Georgia Extension Service. I am relying on these excellent resources, and the help (and patience) of my daughter; There will also be some sweat, blood, and tears, on my part. Hope is on the horizon!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

To set the record straight, there really was once a man named Johnny Appleseed. According to Britannica, his real name was John Chapman, (born September 26, 1774, Leominster, Massachusetts—died March 18?, 1845). Legend, myth, and fascination wrought tales, folk songs, melodies, even “The Johnny Appleseed Blessing;” often used for grace at summer camp meals. Some legends portray him as a roving jolly man, planting apple trees as he roamed the American frontier. Turns out that he did not plant so many appleseeds, as much as establishing apple nurseries, teaching horticulture in his unique way.

Johnny Appleseed provided apple-tree nursery stock to the pioneers. Apparently the series of apple trees he planted, and apple-tree nurseries he established across the midwest, begot the moniker, “Johnny Appleseed”. According to at least one report, he often wore a mushpan, inverted on his head. Johnny Appleseed spent time with Native Americans, learning from them, as well as teaching and helping. Nevertheless, he was a genuine dedicated, albeit eccentric, nurseryman. Not so much the happy wanderer, for he did own 1,200 acres of land—a lot in those days; he died from exposure.

Legend has it that he had a gentleness with animals, was devoted to the Bible, and knew a lot about medicinal herbs. As I read about him, I thought of a story Jesus told about “…a man who went out to sow…” It was a practice his listeners were acquainted with; there are difficulties and opportunities in any planting endeavor. The point Jesus was making also implies persistence, vision, and caring. In the manner of Johnny Appleseed, we all are called to care for the planet, and the people herein.

The early chapters of the Book of Genesis present stories of the creation of the earth and the Universe thereof; it also assigns its cultivation and care to us humans. The stories are beautiful, and exciting. They are also realistic in presenting the truth of toil and tension. A lot more responsibility for care and keeping lies on us than we humans tend to employ. We are not puppets, and we own the benefits and blights of our behavior.

“Giving Back” is a term we hear a lot. It is a responsible kind of statement. When I think of Johnny Appleseed I think that many generations before us sacrificed so much by giving back to their present and future generations. It is an authentication of another teaching of Jesus; he said give and it will be given to you, good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over.

To a great measure, Johnny Appleseed practied what he found in his Bible;” Send your bread out on the water because, in the course of time, you may find it again. (Ecclesiastes 11:1 CEB). A current practice that proves the point is often found in the drive-thru at Starbucks, or Burger King; a driver pulls up to pick up the order and the cashier says, “Your order was paid by the person just ahead of you;” it is called “Paying it Forward.” Johnny Appleseed paid it forward; for generations to come.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

When we lived on St. Simons Island, GA, Paige and I had some friends, a clergy couple, Harriet and David. They were what the Islanders called “Snow Birds;” people who lived up north in Summer, and down on the Georgia Coast in winter; Once, while visiting them, Paige saw their Russian table china; beautiful blue and white place settings. Their son, based in Moscow, Russia, had sent this set to them.Paige was entranced.

When my fact-finding trip to Russia, with the General Board of Global Ministries (UMC) came up, Paige beseeched me to find a set of china like Harriett’s while in Moscow. With great blessings, fortune, luck, or perseverance,—and our wonderful translator/guide—I found an identical set. The vendor carefully packed—in a cardboard box—each piece; I very gingerly lugged that box from point-to-point-and- airports, across Eastern Europe, including Estonia;I was afraid that if I opened it, I would release the magic of that carefully packed treasure. You will be happy to know that upon arriving on St. Simons, Island, and opening that precious treasure, it had not a crack or chip. It was a miracle. Immediately, Paige found the ideal place to display it in our home.

The find was precious to Paige. Right away she put the set into our living room étagère for friends and visitors to enjoy viewing; it was precious to me, in that I found it, and arrived with it in tact. Kool and the Gang used the word “Cherish” to express this profound sense of treasure; in their song we hear that sense of Precious;

“—Let’s take a walk together near the ocean shore
Hand in hand you and I. Let’s cherish every moment we have been given,The time is passing by, I often pray before I lay down by your side
If you receive your calling before I awake
Could I make it through the night. …The world is always changing
Nothing stays the same
But love will stand the test of time

You must remember also— you are precious! You are precious to your mother. Even if you have feelings of estrangement, there underlies that bond that only a mother has. Probably one of the most dramatic, if not the most memorable court decisions on motherhood, comes from King Solomon. Two prostitutes came before him, each claiming possession of a baby. You can read the whole story, but my point here is what happened in the heat of rage; the real mother of the baby opted for the infant to be given to the other woman, rather than allow the Judge (King Solomon) to cut the baby in half to give a half to each woman. Thus, the “real Mother” emerged—verifying the depth of a mother’s love. It truly was the greater love of which Jesus spoke.

Moreover, you must also remember; you are precious to God. God cares about you even beyond the extent of the mother in Solomon’s story. Yes, I know. There is an expansive difference in cherishing something as a precious object, and cherishing a person as precious–“highly esteemed or cherished“–per Merriam-Webster. In one way or another, we all have that special internal vault where certain people, places, and things are held in precious regard. it is an innate part of our human condition.

As the Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian Christians,   (13:7-8a, 13 JBP) Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. It is, in fact, the one thing that still stands when all else has fallen…(13)In this life we have three great lasting qualities—faith, hope and love. But the greatest of them is love. I think he is saying “Love is most precious of all.”

©Copyright Willis H. Moore

Clyde was a short, read-headed, freckle-faced professor of speech when I met him at college. A the time, was my Speech 101 professor, who cut me no slack. I mean none. Ever. He knew I was headed for seminary to be a Methodist minister. He made sure I didn’t have what he called “the ministerial tone” in my speeches. His concern was more than my having an unseemly veneer; he meant to make me a good student.

Working my way through college, I cleaned bathrooms and did groundskeeping at a state park, was a go-fer in an Auto Parts store. ran a steam press in a pants factory—on the night shift, drove a school bus, a church bus, and served in the Army National Guard,(not in that order nor all at the same time). Clyde took me on as his assistant in the college Speech Department, which helped with my tuition costs. When he and his wife, divorced, I baby-sat his two little girls while he taught night school.

I came to realize that Clyde meant business about making me a good student. One night I stayed all night for a fraternity frivolity, and slept in the next morning, missing his 8:00 a.m. class. I got a Zero for the day! Despite our close working relationship and my having been through four of his classes, he cut me no slack. It stung, but taught me about integrity. Even though we had a close relationship, he preserved a professional perimeter.

Life, family, and graduate school (doctoral studies, this time) figured into my having lost touch with Clyde. Ten years ago, he called me. Once we were reconnected, we visited by phone often. I learned that not only had he earned his Ph. D., but also authored several academic books. In retirement, he continued a sort of mini-vaudeville or rubber-chicken circuit. I was not surprised, because he loved folk singing and entertaining with his guitar. It kept him lively.

Not long after one of our phone visits, Clyde had a severe stroke, losing most of the use of his right side. He had to give up his guitar, keyboard, and on-stage performing. Nevertheless, he kept his great attitude, funny, positive, and often hyperbolic tales, for good measure. When Clyde died, Liz, his wife, told a very affirming message he left for me. I saw that his being hard on me was his way of deeply caring.

Friendship is a treasure. True friendship is something like a ship; when in port there are all kinds of activity. When the ship sails, it is out of sight, and maybe out of contact. But when the ship returns—reconnects, all activity resumes. I think of Jesus and his friends at Bethany. He knew they were always there. He knew he could always count on them. And they could count on him. Remember, when his friend Lazarus fell ill, his family called on Jesus to come cure him.

On another occasion, six days before the Passover, when Jesus faced his final and most devastating encounter, he went to his friends in Betany. He knew he would be received, loved, and find comfort for his soul. That’s the way it is with friends. You knock on the door, and inside a place is made for you at the table; abundant, or sparse, there is always enough for you.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 202