Tag Archives: living

Getting away from it all!

So, I have this professional development workshop tomorrow.  I fully plan on enjoying it – it is on folk music and education, and since I do arts integrated programs in schools, and I incorporate folk music into them, this was something that I really wanted.  Best of all, this collaboration between the Arkansas Arts Council and the Arkansas Dept. of Education meant that this PD gives me double credit, both as an Arkansas Arts in Education artist, and a person with a valid teacher’s licence that has to have so many PD hours a year to renew.

Now, this PD was of even more interest to me because of the location – the Ozark Folk Center.  I love the Folk center.  If I was independently wealthy, I would spend a lot of time there.  I would take a dozen workshops a year there.  I would buy an RV and virtually live in the next door RV park.  I actually worked there for one season, as one of their day musicians.  I was also on the list of square dancers and even performed a couple of times in their evening programs.

So when I learned the location of this workshop, I was faced with a choice:  Get up really, really early Monday morning and make the 1 1/2 – 2 hour drive (depending on route, weather, and traffic) or come in Sunday and camp at my favorite campground in the area.

That would be the aforementioned RV park.  Ozark RV park is literally next door to the folk center.  I mean, you walk through a gate, and you are right there.

My mom and I discovered the place years and years ago.  For a short time, we did craft fairs together.  We were doing a fair that was taking place at the Ozark Folk Center.  Mom and Dad had an rv, and mom and I were going to take the rv up, camp out in it, and do the craft fair.  When we found that the Ozark RV Park was right next door, that was where we went.

What a wonderful place.  Friendly people.  Clean bath houses.  And high quality toilet paper.  I mean, better toliet paper than I usually see in Hilton’s.  We only stayed a couple of days, but I never forgot it.  And years later, when I worked that one season at the Ozark Folk Center, I called them up and asked them if they did tent camping as well as RVs.  Well, they did.  So every weekend I worked at the Center that summer, I camped next door.

So, what did I do for this workshop?  Hauled out my tent, and set it up next door.

The impetus for me writing this post was the feeling of comfort and relaxation that I just experienced.  Although the office was closed by the time I got here, I had plenty of time to set up my tent during the light.  Then I went into town to buy ice.  I could have gotten ice from the cooler here and paid for it tomorrow – this is that type of RV park – but I elected to just go on and buy one in town.  Came back, sat down outside my tent, ate my ham and cheese wrap that I had made.  And then I just sat down and played my dulcimer a little while in the dark.  All around me was the sound of crickets and cicadas.  The occasional night-bird called.  And as I sat in the evening coolness, in the night, I felt – calm.  At peace.  Comforted.

I am under a lot of stress, financial, grief, frustration, job (lack of).  But at that moment, everything was perfect.   For just that moment, I had gotten away from it all.  I was content with who I am and where I was.

So I left that perfection to come find electricity to type a blog post.  I wanted to share that moment of peace with anyone who reads this.  And I want to encourage you to get away from it all, even if it is just for a day.  Find a place, a moment of peace and contentment, and soak it up.

And I’m going back to that peace in a few minutes.

And I want to encourage anyone coming up to the Folk Center, if you want to camp or bring an rv, try the Ozark RV Park.  It’s a wonderful place.

 

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We are all brothers

I have been looking at the issues of both the world and the US with a bit of frustration, worry, and fear.  It seems as if everyone is so polarized – so intent that their way is the only way, that they refuse to even consider finding a middle ground, finding a compromise that benefits everyone, even if nobody gets ALL of what they want.  America has become a land of the self-centered and selfish.  “I want it MY way, and if I can’t have it MY way, I’m going to make sure you don’t get anything YOUR way.  It is MY way or nothing!” is the message that a lot of today’s politicians and/or their followers seem to be saying.

And racial violence seems to be on the upswing; obvious incidences of prejudice and bias are apparent.  And unfortunately, the reaction to those incidences seems to mainly be more violence, which leads only to worsening conditions.

I was going through some old documents today, and ran across something that I wrote a couple of years ago.  I want to share it…

We Are Brothers
by
Melinda LaFevers
6/19/2014
inspired by “We are Africa” as performed by Foreign Tongues

When God knelt down in the dirt
and scooped up that ball of clay,
He rolled it and shaped it and formed it,
In His own image.
He breathed life into it and called it “Man.”
The Good Book doesn’t say He made a black man,
It doesn’t say he made a white man.
Or yellow or red or blue or green or orange or purple.
It just says he made man – and it was Good.

No one knows when the division of color came.
Perhaps, as people moved north and the days grew colder,
the longer nights and shorter days bleached out the colors.
Some people say it was the Mark of Cain
that separated the colors of man.
Science has proven that all women
came from one woman,
Deep dark in Africa.
Doesn’t matter what race, what color –
All women carry that same genetic marker,
making us all sisters with the same mother –
Eve, birthing the world in the cradle of life.
So once we were all dusky brown, chocolate, dark –
I’ve wondered if that mark of Cain
was the bleaching of his skin.

But still, white, black, brown, red, yellow –
Languages were the same.
Until man, working together as brothers,
built that tower to the heavens,
and God, looking down, stirred the people
and created a babble of voices.
That, then, truly separated the nations from each other.
Each went their own way, growing apart,
forgetting who we were, where we came from,
the fact that once we were ALL brothers.

And the years and centuries passed.
Mankind warred against mankind;
Put chains on each other.
Your ancestors wore chains.
My ancestors wore chains.
Not just our ancestors wore chains.
You wear chains. I wear chains.
Some of those chains are visible.
Some are unseen – but those unseen chains
wear men down just as much as heavy links of iron.
Ignorance, poverty, abuse –
Those chains know no boundaries.
They come to every man – red, yellow, black, white, brown.
Faces pinched with hunger look with hopelessness
at barren lives
And Death in the form of drugs, alcohol and violence
too often looks back.

The only way to defeat that death,
to break those chains of despair,
to bring All men to freedom
The freedom of love, of Hope, of a future…
The only way to break chains of
the past and present
is to remember
that you
that I

that WE are all brothers.

If you believe in God, have you wasted your life? NO!!

A friend posted something today on facebook.  It was a poster meme, with a red background, and it said “If I’m wrong about God then I’ve wasted my life.  If you’re wrong about God then you’ve wasted your eternity” Lecrae.

https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xla1/v/t1.0-0/p480x480/11205141_10152845360601179_4413137991245426747_n.jpg?oh=d39ca2df7e628e34ce01f705d1916eb9&oe=573CC105

Now, I appreciate the idea behind this thought.  I understand what this person is trying to say.  The only problem is, it is so wrong.  A belief in God, regardless of whether or not He actually exists, is not a waste.  The only way that believing in God would be a waste is if you believe that what is commonly considered “sin” is a preferred way of life.  Drunkenness, theft, murder, drug addictions, sex with whoever you want… If that is part of your value system, then, indeed, a belief in a God who does not exist would be a waste.

But I have found that a belief in God has done so much more for me.

Because I believe in God, I look for the good in people.

Because I believe in God, I have a more positive attitude about life in general.

Because I believe in God, I pray for strength – and I receive it.

Because I believe in God, I find the rainbow in the rain.

Because I believe in God, I believe that I can change for the better.

Because I believe in God, I continue to try.

Because I believe in God, I try to help others.

Because I believe in God, I stand back up, no matter how many times I fall down.

Because I believe in God, I have hope.

Because I believe in God…

I could go on and on.

Even if God does not exist, belief in Him is not a waste.  It is life.  It is strength.  It makes my life better in so many ways.

Because I believe in God…

Living and dying

I attended a funeral today.  The husband of a friend at church had passed away, after 91 years of life.  I knew his wife much better than I knew him.  They had been married for over 60 years.  Because she is a wonderful person, and I knew anyone that she loved would have to be pretty special, he was on my list of people that I wish I knew better.  I won’t have that chance anymore, but after listening to the things that his family and friends said about him, the memories they shared, I feel that I know him better now that he is gone, than I did while he was alive.

One of the things that came up, over and over again, was that he LIVED his life.  He taught his children – girls and boys – to hunt, fish, and enjoy sports.  He told stories about his war experiences – at least, some of them.  He lived a life of service, and offered an example of living for his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.  He was injured in the war, and spent most of the rest of his life disabled as a result.  None-the-less, he continued to provide for his family.  He worked as a rural mail carrier for a while – and his children remember that he made sure everyone on his route got their Christmas packages – even if they hadn’t come in yet.  His daughter recounted how, at an early age, when she picked pecans, she was allowed to sell them and keep the money for herself.  As a result, she learned the value of labor.   He would buy old bicycles, repair them, and resell them at low prices – if he didn’t just outright give them away to families who otherwise couldn’t afford them.  Although his war injury did not allow him to resume playing sports after the war, he became a coach, and even installed a regulation baseball field in one of his pastures so he could provide a place to play for his friends and neighbors.   One son talked of his father’s legacy, and how, when he does this or that, he knows that he is passing his father’s legacy down to his own children and grandchildren.  Of all the wonderful things that were said about him – some I knew about and had experienced myself, others I had not heard before; the one that has stayed with me the most was when one of his sons said this:  “…He was a Man’s Man, and he taught us how to respect women.”

A man’s man.  We have too few of those in the world today.  Too few men will take the responsibility for being the best they can be, for living life to the fullest, in the best ways, for striving to improve themselves, for respecting women, for raising their children to live life.  A man’s man.  Someone who wasn’t afraid of disability, responsibility, of emotion, of commitment.  I hope the legacy that he has left to his children and his grandchildren will be passed down for generations to come.