A Leaf of Promise. A Note From Jan.

The Boston Globe greeted me from its usual spot on our front porch. David, our newspaper carrier, has quite an arm. The Red Sox need to call him up. Morning after morning, the Globe hits the porch like a magnetic arrow to a metallic bullseye. So predictable, even throughout this stormy winter. Keeps me from traipsing through the neighborhood in my nightgown, raising eyebrows and lowering property values.

This morning brought a variation. Atop the Globe was a dried oak leaf. No oak trees close by. One leaf, preserved by nature, for this day in June.

Light as a feather…which is the sign I’d asked for ever since I received Martha’s birthday card about feathers. Leaf didn’t move. Sat still. Should have lifted off with the first breath of air, and it was not a still morning.

The oak leaf reminded me of a message preached by my former boss at Grace Chapel, Dr. Steve Macchia, a good man. Although “boss” sounds too harsh. Steve, though younger, mentored, taught and encouraged me and not just during my tenure on staff at Grace Chapel. He spoke on “Oaks of Righteousness” one Sunday. Although he preached on it more than twenty years ago, I’ve always associated the verse from Isaiah with Steve. Easy to remember since I marked it in my Bible, dated it and put his name in the margin. 

“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” (Isaiah 61:3)  

I’d been looking for a feather, not an oak leaf.   A feather, not like Forrest Gump and his “destiny” feather, but a feather of some kind. The birthday card said that a found feather is a “sign of encouragement…it can be a message from someone gone from our lives… a reminder that all is well.” Now, don’t get all nervous and think I’m getting into a strange world where even God might feel antsy. I’m not a kid skipping down a sidewalk, afraid to “step on a crack and break my Mother’s back.” It’s just that I like symbols. Stuff that tells stories without words.

The oak leaf did that for me. I’ve been privileged to know a few righteous oaks. Lived with one for more than 51 years. Took that leaf as a sign of encouragement that Jud’s more than OK and I’ll be alright….which I also base on faith, buoyed by hope and words God wrote a long time ago. So no need to worry that I’ve misplaced my faith.  Besides, Frederick Buechner wrote, “Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith.  They keep it awake and moving.” (Wishful Thinking)

Today, my friend Martha and I went to the Peabody Essex Museum and saw an exhibit entitled, “AUDACIOUS, the Fine Art of Wood.” The exhibit startled me, teaching me many intricate, outlandish, unbelievable and creative ways artists sculpt, carve, paint and even weave wood. Oak, not one of the more stunning showpieces, as I recall, since it is so hard and strong, is typically used more for lumber, furniture, flooring, logs in fireplaces…the stuff of everyday life.  Like Oaks of Righteousness, useful and important, but not on a pedestal, usually. Though we also spent time in the massive Marine Room at the museum and saw ornate figureheads from Clipper ships.  Adornments probably carved from oak.

One of the Audacious artists, Stuart Mortimer, in an untitled piece from 2002, used “Sycamore, ebony, bronze flakes and dust, and lacquer.”  It was the dust that grabbed my attention.  Nothing wasted. True for us, too.  When I take courage and look back over these past months, I find Grace redeeming the dust of my life, doing something extraordinary with it even when I’m too distracted, weary,  or burdened to know how dusty I’ve become. Grace making me presentable, once again. 

I love how the one in charge of  this exhibit wrote on the walls; teaching, informing, enhancing the experience. During our years at Gordon College, Bruce Herman taught me a lot with such writings in the gallery at the Barrington Center for the Arts.  One wall in the Audacious exhibit talked about the way that “woodturners used to remove defects and flaws from their wood in their effort to convey a sense of perfection…Now, artists incorporate them into their designs, often accentuating the abnormalities to stunning effect.  The texture of the burl, the irregularities of tree bark, or the holes made by insects add dimensions by defining contours, creating texture, or establishing rhythm between open and closed spaces.” Imagine being able to say all that about a piece of wood!

When Heather was born, my brother made a cradle of wormy chestnut for her.  I loved the imperfections of the wood. Today, viewing what artists do with wood, reminded me of God, Creator, who made trees and folks like you and me.  God lets Light shine through the holes.  I’ve recognized it in others.  Tough times that slit you open and leave you raw; healed over, scarred, leaving a rugged beauty.  You’re alive.  Me, too. 

Perfection’s way overrated when it comes to wood and people.  A careful look at Oaks of Righteousness reveals some “stunning abnormalities.” Twisted limbs from storms. Things that bugged and burrowed into us but didn’t survive…just left a calling card that they’d been there.  Which nudges me to see the beauty in the burls, holes, irregularities in others and in myself.  God plants us, Oaks of Righteousness, “for the display of his splendor.”  Imagine that!  Though it’s actually easier for me to see myself as a tumbleweed, tossing and turning along.

Seeing art, hearing music, sitting still, staring at the vast Atlantic, helps me imagine the impossible sometimes.  Nudges me to stop and give thanks for the One who made it all and sees beauty in us.  The One who delights in making something beautiful out of our imperfections.  Talk about Audacious!  God, the daring, fearless, risk-taker.  The Audacious One who takes even scrub and tumbleweed folks, planting and growing them into Oaks of Righteousness.

Thank you, God, for the Oak Leaf on the porch. A significant symbol; not a feather, but a leaf-let filled with stories of hope and promise… .You know how much I love a good story.