What I believe
and state firmly
does not matter
nearly as much
as my actions
in revealing my
character.
Who I am
can be seen:
much more clearly
by observers
than learned by
hearers or readers
of my words,
so carefully chosen.
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 12, 2015
Words with Enemies
You smile, and I’ll smile
and all the while we’ll
talk behind each other’s back
(but just to those we know
will have OUR back).
Then you will use a word
with just that tone, a word
that tears the skin from my back
(flaying piece by piece
and leaving bloody flesh.)
The words that I will then say
in return will burn and scar
and pierce you front to back
(I know it should be peace I seek,
but I won’t turn the other cheek.)
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, January 4, 2015
The first few days of retirement have been a writer’s wasteland. Then I found a saved draft of Steve Shoemaker’s verse. It was as though it was waiting for just this time. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like throwing something away.
Write something, anything
(Was it Malcolm Muggeridge who said if
you can’t write something good, write something
bad that you can throw away.)
…
How do I know what I think till I see what I say?
…
Can ideas be feelings or colors or moods,
or must letters and spaces reveal the mind?
…
Type on an iPhone, computer or pad:
words, sentence, phrases–the good and the bad.
…
Drivel, insight, cliche, Truth–
symbol, allegory, tall-tale, lie;
future, memory, made-of-whole-cloth,
fiction, non-fiction, poetry.
…
Muses, Graces all have wings–they flit and fly away.
– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL
This sermon was preached at Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church in Chaska, MN the Sunday following the bombings at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. It draws on Red Sox player David Ortiz’s nationally televised statement “This is our (expletive) city!”; Richard Rohr’s “Finding God in the Depths of Silence” (Sojourners, March, 2013), and the Epistle of James’ insight that the “tongue” (i.e., speech) is “a restless evil” ready to curse others even while it blesses “the God and Father of us all.” “Brothers and sisters,” writes James, “this should not be so!”
The sermon calls for engagement in the inner silence that moves down into the undivided reality that words so easily and quickly divide and destroy. It ends with the Pie Jesu from Gabriel Faure’s Requiem and the invitation “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Personal reflection – a Visit with Red – written April 28, 2012
I walk through the door to his room…quietly. He is lying on his left side, his back to the door, his body turned toward the windows, in a fetal position.
His wife of 50 years had put him there. Couldn’t care for him anymore at home. That was a year ago.
Now he didn’t know her name or recognize her face.
The usual visits are the theater of the absurd. Becket’s’ Waiting for Godot. Blank stairs. Monologues. Boredom. Wondering why I go…except…he’s there. I could be too.
I tiptoe around the foot of the bed. I hear his voice. His eyes are closed. His lips are moving. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take” – the prayer he committed to memory as a child.
Slow - Children
He finishes and seems at peace. I pause…quietly speak his name…and place my hand gently on his shoulder. He opens his eyes.
“Good morning, Red. It’s Gordon.”
Blank stare.
“Your pastor…from Knox Church.”
His eyes grow wide. He smiles. He reaches out his hand…and looks me in the eye – a memory unlocked from deep within his soul…beyond the reach of Alzheimer’s.
“The Church Choir” – Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 28, 2012
Words sung can be remembered long
after words said. A person with
Alzheimer’s still may sing a song
recalled from church or school. The myth
that music is a gift for few
blessed with a perfect pitch is just
malicious: any in a pew
who talk can sing! Of course, they must
speak S-L-O-W-L-Y and (the hardest thing
of all) must listen to others
around them–and follow the fingers
or baton of conductors
who beg and plead, talk loud or soft
to lure folks into the choir loft
All these years later…I wish I’d sung with Red that day. “Jesus loves me; this I know…” S-L0-W-L-Y… from the choir loft… in the nursing home.
Views from the Edge 