Sunday, June 10, 2012

Faithful Servants


This poem was created and read by me at our farewell retirement party for Paul and Karen Butterfield and their 35 years of service to the Lord at Trinity Baptist Church on June 10th, 2012. 


Paul and Karen as the Anchors of the Lord’s Work
     Rocks not easily shaken.

Not a day has gone by at Trinty Baptist where the work of Karen and Paul has not been seen.

From the times of washing the windows
To the removal of coffee stains from the floor.
To the movement of chairs across the sanctuary
To the Tables of communion
To the times of worship
  From a far and up close.
Of countless chats with God to keep us in line and in tow
For His great plan.

From the prayers in the quiet of your temple
   To the unseen hurts and seen praise.

And for your time at the game night and  potluck
  Of your unknown Zenga skill
  Which knocked down my elaborate towers
   That skill which continues to build the kingdom and
    Challenge me to live a better life.
     Now for the rematch!
    But from which you have a steady hand.
    Guiding His people into the truth and the life.

From the right hand corner of the choir .
   The gentle voice of your love for Jesus.

And now you will be able to rest at night
   Without the call of “Hey Paul, a leaky valve”
 
Karen for your gentleness
  To repair the lives of broken women
   To shepherd them and to guide them in the way everlasting.
     And for your Courage as you faced your frailty and let God bring you back to life.
      And you being a lighthouse to us and to Fairfield Grace
      Of your beacon that never died or given up.

   May your words and your meditations be pleasing in His sight
   May you grow the kingdom of God in South Carolina
   May it echo and reverberate up North.
    And to the South and the East and the West.

As the sun begins to set on your time up North.





 May the Lord bless you this year into your new season.
   May you see your family grow deep in the love of the Lord.
Establishing deep roots in the Almighty!!

May you hear our call of the Kingdom for wherever you go!!


And may you continue to keep us in your prayers.
For our God is an awesome God!!!

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Let's brew up the broth of education

Think back to your days as a student at that square desk with the metal shelf for all of your papers, pens, and books.  Those lockers lining the hallways and the changing of the classes at the 10:10 bell.  Of the rotated schedules of periods, requiring the knowledge of EXCEL even before it was invented.
Tests and lectures and the like.

Creating  communities of learning is one of the main tasks of our educational system. And it is formed on the basis of forming a foundation during the first three years while at home and then putting up a frame from the time of preschool to kindergarten and then the next 12 years are spent filling that frame out and then during post high school years, putting the frosting and flavor to that cake.  Very expensive morangue but important nonetheless.

Mayor Corey Booker of Newark, New Jersey, shared with Oprah Winfrey that "education is the cauldron  of creativity that serves to meet the common goals of our communities."
That is an apt description of what education is and when we take a journey from the cavemen to the techno geeks of the 21st century, we will see how that it is the case.

When we go back in time to the cave men, fire served as a central way for men and women to gather at the end of a long day of hunting and gathering. No cell phones or Ipads existed back then. What existed was the woods and the fields and the ingenuity which was required with their hands to make  an existence.  Wholesome values were taught to the children growing up and there was a need to cooperate with one another.

Fire brings forth light and warmth and can create the cauldrons that are forged for the olympic games held every two years.  Those cauldrons are displayed in the middle of the stadium for the opening ceremony and the location of it and the torch's path are sometimes kept in the dark.
Once the runners finish the relay of thousands  of miles and the spark reaches the cauldron, the flame bursts and stays lit throughout the competition of the games.

Education is a lot like the relay to the stadium. There must be a steady effort to keep the flame lit and it requires teams of thousands to keep the light lit throughout the travels in the rain, in the snow and sleet and up the long paths that it travels.  Sometimes disappointments result and there can be failures along the way.

In some parts of the educational world, the spark may be rather faint and especially in the inner city where there is a widespread epic of drop-outs and delinquencies.  The teachers there have to work with innovative models.  Some of those models have worked and been made into motion pictures and books.  Look to the Freedom Writers, to the Dead Poet's Society of how these authors reached into the imagination of children, sparking them on paths to make a difference for society.

In my life, I had such teachers.
I remember when I left the private school classroom at The Henry Viscardi School and went into public school with the metal desks and the classroom with the blue cinder block walls.  I had a special teacher, Miss Gorton, who paid attention  to me, a frail student, who needed propping up a bit to succeed. For I was not like the other kids in my class.  But I had that spark and its ember needing tending every few moments for it to be successful.  For she encouraged me and helped me relate to my peers and included my mom and dad on some field trips to historic sites in Connecticut.

 I remember in the 8th grade in my algebra class, Mr. Scrofani had us play math baseball in which our class was divided into two teams.  Each team would come up to bat and answer questions from concepts that we were studying: whether it was the quadratic formula, or the multiplication tables or solving a complex equation, it served as a way to keep us as students on our feet. Or back to the dug out if we struck out and got the answer wrong.  I always looked forward to these moments.  I wish I could have some of them back.

In high school, when I took Spanish for three years, I had Miss Goggin and she taught me how to translate and speak Spanish and I had opportunities to create small dialogues and compositions and papers in Spanish. I remember standing at the kitchen counter overlooking the backyard and writing my first paragraph that I recited during our class assignment. Mine was something like: Camino por el parque y vivo.  I had a few more lines but the rest eludes me at the moment.

Those kinds of details are not important but what is important are the connections that get forged early on and the ways that we solve problems that pass along our paths.

These are a few of the baton relays that kept my educational flame burning.
In the world, there are these vast pockets that are not burning brightly. Places where that cauldron was not lit early in the hearth of the home. 
That is why it is so important for the spark to be lit.

That is why this conference on creativity is being given. It is that place where we can learn once again to play in the sandbox and to walk up to the chalkboard and draw or take a swing at a math problem that seems to be daunting.  It is all a matter of breaking down of life into small teachable moments, to be digested one at a time.
Remember that wise saying of how to eat an elephant.  Definitely the best way to eat it is one bite at a time.  And extremely well done.  Now how to cook one is another story.


Poetry often has that connection where we can learn from the greats of our past and what they thought and from they dreamed.

What brings back some of these thoughts to me is that in four days, I will be back on campus at my alma Mater, Fairfield University, to reconnect with the students that I once studied and shared life with- life in the moment and also life that is eternal.  A long time has passed since I left Bellarmine Gardens in May of 1987 with the diploma in hand under the hot sun.  But I have those friendships that have been rekindled with that flame of love and encouragement over the years as griefs get shared and as moments of life will be remembered.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Get outside of our boxes

Thinking outside of the box.
That is what I have been told often in the world of the networking groups. I have been told of its importance.

That means having to get a box in the first place.
Or maybe we have already lived in the box.  That box may be a little crowded.
Or it can be a little dark and dank in there.

Oftentimes in the news, there are reports of cardboard cities that emerge.  Those shelters and homes which the poor live within. And sometimes students on campuses erect them to raise an awareness of an issue such as hunger.

Maybe such a city should exist in the networking world.  Places where the job seekers can go and be in these little sanctuaries of advice and well being.  They are places that I have benefited from getting advice and suggestions for improvement. Not always easy being told to have that better appearance or trim the nails a bit.  Advice received in the past but somehow blown out of my box and needing to come back within it.

So off to the world to face it with courage.  Something that even me with my optimism lack.
Fearing that knocking on a door may lead to change. But maybe change for the better.

And if I run into that box, I sure hope it comes with clearly identifiable instructions or else I will be totally befuddled as to what to do next!!!  And as I said, I have to think outside of that box.

Clearly a cunundrum but something that life in general requires.

Peace and a Happy Memorial Day Weekend to all who read this!!

Thursday, May 24, 2012

The world wrapped around your mind

One phrase that keeps popping up in my reading is the idea of the world wrapped around your mind.  For that to occur, the physical characteristics of the world would have to be broken.  Yes, I do agree that both the world and the head are round and spherical in shape. Yet both are very solid and both have a liquidity to them.
Yet one is able to wrap the intangibles around each other. Both the world, those in it, and the mind are shaped by ideas.  Those indeed can be wrapped around and into the individuals shaping them and impacting the world as a result.

The one thing  I can physically grasp is the creating of the wrap sandwich that one orders at a deli. The chef lays out the tortilla wrap on the counter and lays chicken, onions, cheese, tomatoes, olives and pickles and whatever else one wants to place in it.  Then he  folds it over and presses it in the grill and cuts it evenly into two halves.  Then one is able to sit down and eat the soothing texture of the vegetables, meat, bread and cheese.
Now that definitely wrapped physical elements while putting pressure on them and then gets digested into smaller pieces once eaten. Those same pieces that went into the creation of the sandwich.

So our thinking is a lot like that of making a wrap and getting it into our mind and wrapped within it is the process of digestion or understanding.

One will never look at a wrap in the same way again!!

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Shedding our mortal skins!!

Shedding our skins.
Think of the potato skin that some discard but then there is the careful washing of the skins.  And the tastiness of the skin against the teeth and how it clings to the nicely baked potato within.
That is the good aspect of the skin.  And skin is always good on fruit and vegetables for it has added nutrients and value.

Now with us humans, skin has a little different value.
It definitely protects against the elements and has been termed as the largest organ in the body.
Now that is something to trump against the brain and against the heart. Those organs must be real envious that they have been demoted from the number one position.

Yet what skin does is it helps me to reflect on how snakes get to shed their skins and leave them behind in the dirt. Almost like what happens when one has a bruise or cut and new skin forms on top.  Once when that happened to me, I was amazed at the intricate weaving of new skin over that very spot of rupture.

Now for us as mere mortals, we are going to be shed our bodies which the Bible calls tents and we are going to be able to receive new incorruptible bodies from the Lord.

And it is fitting that the Holy Scriptures remind us to put off the old self and put on the new self.

And all this reflection came from the simple thought of how great it will be to shed our old self as we become more comfortable in our own skins.  And that confidence will create a nice glistening shine as we go out into the world and is something that the cosmetics industry will not be able to compete with!!

Peace to all my readers aspiring to live lives of a number 10 status~~ towards that of glory~~~

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Jumping back into the writer's pool


Here I am in the blogging world.
Welcome to those who have not seen or heard of me yet. I have not always appeared on a regular basis.

I am great with inspiring others towards greatness in achieving their writing or speaking goals.

Enjoy the transition between the seasons of spring and summer coming soon with the spring about to be released.

There is still much blooming to do this late in the spring season. For creativity is eternal!!!

http://youareawriter.com/contest/

Scott R. Davis

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Awakening the Microcosm of the Universe.

You make my heart sing. Beat a new breath.
Or you make my heart smile.

Today, as I traveled through the rain soaked horizon and the rain beat down pretty hard, I looked into myself and sometimes dozed off into attempted slumber... to pass those moments of time. Letting them tick by without being involved in the game somehow.

This evening on poetry, I read that poets often took the ordinary items from life, that of a cup or a sweater or sweet kiss and elaborated on these elements in their work. As I did my dishes, I saw the piling up of the orange peel and the inedible celery stalk and heard the clanging of the dishes as I placed them in the drainer. The rush of the water going into the sink and the counter becoming order again from the pile of chaos prior.

Remembering me of one of my favorite words of this week, microcosm. That little world that we wrap around ourselves to be our only reality. For our sense of comfort.
Or To feel so out of touch with the outside world sometimes, like being within an inpenetrable bubble. Wanting to get out and get some fresh air but also liking the comfort of the world that we create inside that cocoon.

Almost the same way of sometimes feeling like a square peg trying to fit into a wrong hole. Especially trying to find that place to belong at again to find sustanence and value after being so long out of work.

But also a sense of freedom to listen and find value in what offer as I did today in a focus group on Diversity Works, a new program in Bridgeport to find work for those with handicaps and other problems. Able to give my input and agreement as to other shared problems. Making me feel valued and valuable.

This is all possible because of you, Jesus, who went and walked that path before me. Putting up with the problems of the world and offering the value to me and others.

And thanks to being able to look at and laugh at some photos of friends such as Phil and of the writings and musings of Christine and her family. And for pondering the life and times of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the Maine Poet, who shaped America as she came out of a turbulent adolescence into her adulthood.

For life is good, even if surrounded by some sleepless nights. Trying to find ones way back into the current of life where my heart can once again sing. And I can beat the new breath and my heart will smile at the world once again.

Here is my toast to life, friends, the journey ahead and to God's glory!!!

Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Ultimate Mother's Day


Mother's Day is a time for us to step back and thank our mom's for their sacrifices that they have made for our lives. As mothers have raised their children, they build into them a sense of community and sharing. Moms teach their children responsibility and how their children are to get along with others.

It is often a slow and steady process of sacrifice. Long nights and days spent in correcting the paths of their children.

Proverbs 31 paints for us a beautiful picture of how integral mothers are for their families. In Proverbs 31:15 it states, "She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants." In verse 21, she provides clothes for her children.

Others in her household look to her in respect as she teaches her family and watches what goes on in her household.

From a few of these examples from Proverbs 31, I view moms as central hubs in the family that guide and direct the lives of her offspring and her husband. Then they will carry out and spread this instruction and values learned to the community.

When I look at the example of Jesus in the world, the importance that He brought to His ministry was the result of the teachings and values that Mary and Joseph instilled in Him while He gained in wisdom and stature at home.

When I look in the Scriptures, an excellent example of motherhood is found in Mary. She took on many challenges that she faced from the moment she heard of the good news that she would be bearing and raising Jesus who would take away the sins of the world.

Mary was there from the moment the angel announced her selection as the Blessed Mother to the formative years of Jesus and through the ministry years of Jesus to the time she watched Him during His trial and crucifixion. And she was present on the first Easter Sunday when He was not found at the tomb.

What amazes me about Mary is that she was steadfast and courageous in her love despite the tough circumstances that faced her son, Jesus, throughout their lives.




Saturday, April 14, 2012

Reminiscing on the beauty of Maine

There is the saying of "Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go." While not that of Grandma, it can definitely be the description of the entry point for my inaugural summer years in the state of Maine.

The Pratt's Island bridge was made of old planks of wood that were closely placed together and when our car rattled along it, the sound of the tire tracks became very clear. We felt the car buckle up and down. Black metal railings were alongside the bridge. When we got off of the bridge, we followed a dusty wooden path to a fork in the island road. Our cottage road was straight ahead with only a few cottages on our section of Pratt's Island. The cottage was painted grey and was nestled from the driveway and was 75 feet from the ocean shore. That was in the days when the zoning allowed dwellings to be built so close to shore.



Nestled in the woods of the off country sits a small cottage with a grand entrance. The cottage has primitive indoor plumbing and pipes that creak at the slightest sound. The water comes from the above ground plastic and corroding metal pipes. It has a brackish flavor and is mostly good for washing ones body. The daily water is drawn from the Beeth Springs Well outside of Boothbay Harbor. When my dad and I and Mom went to town for the water, we carried our 2 gallon plastic jugs and our 20 gallon green containers which we would fill up.

The paneling on the walls is rough-hewn and the rockers on the porch are somewhat uncomfortable with cushions dating back to the 1960's. As I sit in the rocker, it moves gingerly back and forth and it is tough to comfortably grab on to the bar of the rocker since it is so long. These rockers are not for taking a long comfortable nap on the shore.

The fireplace in front of the living room is made of stone cemented into place. One can see the caulking that goes along the blocks of stone.

The floor is of old pinewood and occasionally has an uneven bent to it. It definitely adds character to the room. Above us is the open ceiling with the beams of wood going across.
Old floor lamps lit the room.



I often spent a summer afternoon on that Pratt's Island bridge going fishing. I left the cottage with my yellow Plano tackle box and fishing pole in hand. I never caught fish but mostly caught these green crabs. They tugged at my line often and danced on the edge of the fishing pole as I reeled them to the edge of the bridge and released them down below. As I crabbed, I saw the sailboats leaving Cozy Harbor and moving through to the Sheepscot River. Often when I came home from my expedition, I commented to my Mom and Dad, "Hey, I caught about 15 crabs this afternoon!" Mom commented, "Those crabs must have been awfully hungry. Are you sure that they were not the same crab each time!" I commented, "Probably, but it was still fun catching and releasing them. I only wish that I could have brought you and Dad some dinner tonight."

On another one of those forks at the end of the bridge was the pathway that went down to the dock where we kept our rowboat to get out to our 16 foot motorboat. This was a path that we took often to go cruising along the Sheepscot River. Oh for those days to happen again where I could get away and spend some fresh time in the Maine air and breathe freshness and salt.
Approaching the local landing dock, one walked along a narrow 10 foot passage approaching the ramp to our small dock that held about 6 skiffs and rowboats. Ours was tied up and we put our gear on board and headed out to our boat. Many stories can be told of our romps in the fog and our times heading into the open waters with Uncle Lenny almost getting washed out to sea.

It was at this dock that I made my famous solo adventure in the Cozy Harbor "Pond". For my adventure, I did not seek to travel treks of 2000 miles across the country but in small distances on pathways of inland seas.

What really characterizes the memories of Maine is the openness of the land itself. There is not a lot of development to encroach on its beauty in spots. Just being able to sit out in the open air and watch as the birds pass by on their commute to their gull rocks from their long day at sea to the times being able to lean against the edge of the boat to see a series of passing lighthouses and lobsterboats passing by.

I loved looking at those spetacular sunsets and the rarest of evenings with the Northern Lights. Those evenings reflect me forward to this Thursday evening when I traveled around the city of Shelton and witnessed my first double rainbow=not intruded by anything and being surrounded by the open space. I kept looking for where that pot of gold may be placed. I just could not find it!!!


I yearn for those times to be quiet and to be an innocent teenager growing up. Trying to find and navigate the course of my life in the clarity of the moment and the times of foggy confusion that sometimes existed. I wish at times I was small enough to nestle beneath my mom's warm arms and know that all would be fine and I would not have to worry.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Tall Tales of the City

The tall tales. Buildings are often neglected in the world and can be passed by without an intimate conversation about it. These structures are often poked and prodded as they get built. The construction workers pound on the structure and the soot of the city saturates the buildings and can make it unclear for the building to see correctly. This is where the visit to the eye doctor would come in very handy. But it would require there to be a VERY BIG eye doctor to examine these buildings. Kind of tough to get a visit with it. Imagine a coworker coming into work one day and finding a big gaping hole in the concrete since his or her building was being worked on. And that opthomologist would need a very massive building with very BIG coworkers who would be able to service such a building. Schools would have to be especially designed for these buildings.