"Is this Heaven?" "No- Its Iowa"
That line from Field of Dreams is something that I have pondered off and on again for a long time. One of the things that I imagine Heaven will be like will be a grand reunion with all of those that have gone ahead of me. Although I can imagine a Heaven where I am entirely focused on the Presence of my God, I hope it will not be that way. So much of my life and faith has been shaped by other people, I hope that I would not have to spend eternity without them.
Another thing that I hope for in Heaven, is that it will be a place that is familiar to me. There have been places that are like Heaven on Earth for me. The one that comes to mind the most is a camp that I spent a great many summers at. This is not to say that there are no other places that hold a special meaning to me, but Fort Scott is a place that I considered hallowed ground.
It was there that I showed children how to ride a horse, or how to build a one match fire. It was there that I could spend an entire summer and not worry about the outside world. There was no air conditioning, and I didn't miss it. There were few private bath facilities, and I didn't care. There was little or no down time, and it didn't matter. I was surrounded by some of the best people I had ever known, and I was in the midst of God's creation.
At night, I would take cabin duty for others who missed the bright lights and big city. I would sit out at the flag pole and watch the stars come out, and listen to the night noise of the forest. We would try and guess who was walking around the camp by their silhouette in the moonlight. During the days I would walk through a 300 acre forest that was both familiar and magnificent. I never failed to see or hear or smell something that was new.
In the heat of the summer I would spend days on horseback, and the evenings were spent cooling in the pool. During night swims, the steam would swirl off the water and the reflection of lights would dance on the boughs of the pine trees nearby.
If you sat quietly you could hear the cheers from the nearby soft ball complex, or you could smell the smoke from Doc Schroeder's campfire as he listened to a Reds Game or consoled a homesick camper.
I can no longer walk into a forest without missing Fort Scott. Being close to a horse and rider brings back into focus that which I miss so badly. The smell of leather and animal and fly wipe transports me back to a time when the world was so much simpler.
When I was away at college, I was almost never homesick. I missed my family, yes, but they were only a phone call away, or at worst, a 45 minute drive South.
Fort Scott will never happen again. It was closed to placate the insurance companies or the opponents in the archdiocese. It was sold to pay for the sins of the clergy, that could not keep their hands off little boys. And now it will be destroyed to satisfy the peoples appetite for big houses in neat little rows. All of them filled with people who will not appreciate that they are living on sacred ground.
I long for my home in the sun. I miss the sound of children playing. The thought of standing under the water tower as it overflowed on a 90 degree day fills my eyes with tears. I have been so blessed with a good life, a wonderful family and more good fortune that one man deserves. But sometimes we are defined more by what we have lost than what we have gained.
If I had the power to write the ending to my life, I would have been buried there, under the pine trees, in that sacred ground. Now it is all gone. Perhaps in Heaven I will be allowed to visit once more, the one place that I would choose to spend eternity.
Troubador
Another thing that I hope for in Heaven, is that it will be a place that is familiar to me. There have been places that are like Heaven on Earth for me. The one that comes to mind the most is a camp that I spent a great many summers at. This is not to say that there are no other places that hold a special meaning to me, but Fort Scott is a place that I considered hallowed ground.
It was there that I showed children how to ride a horse, or how to build a one match fire. It was there that I could spend an entire summer and not worry about the outside world. There was no air conditioning, and I didn't miss it. There were few private bath facilities, and I didn't care. There was little or no down time, and it didn't matter. I was surrounded by some of the best people I had ever known, and I was in the midst of God's creation.
At night, I would take cabin duty for others who missed the bright lights and big city. I would sit out at the flag pole and watch the stars come out, and listen to the night noise of the forest. We would try and guess who was walking around the camp by their silhouette in the moonlight. During the days I would walk through a 300 acre forest that was both familiar and magnificent. I never failed to see or hear or smell something that was new.
In the heat of the summer I would spend days on horseback, and the evenings were spent cooling in the pool. During night swims, the steam would swirl off the water and the reflection of lights would dance on the boughs of the pine trees nearby.
If you sat quietly you could hear the cheers from the nearby soft ball complex, or you could smell the smoke from Doc Schroeder's campfire as he listened to a Reds Game or consoled a homesick camper.
I can no longer walk into a forest without missing Fort Scott. Being close to a horse and rider brings back into focus that which I miss so badly. The smell of leather and animal and fly wipe transports me back to a time when the world was so much simpler.
When I was away at college, I was almost never homesick. I missed my family, yes, but they were only a phone call away, or at worst, a 45 minute drive South.
Fort Scott will never happen again. It was closed to placate the insurance companies or the opponents in the archdiocese. It was sold to pay for the sins of the clergy, that could not keep their hands off little boys. And now it will be destroyed to satisfy the peoples appetite for big houses in neat little rows. All of them filled with people who will not appreciate that they are living on sacred ground.
I long for my home in the sun. I miss the sound of children playing. The thought of standing under the water tower as it overflowed on a 90 degree day fills my eyes with tears. I have been so blessed with a good life, a wonderful family and more good fortune that one man deserves. But sometimes we are defined more by what we have lost than what we have gained.
If I had the power to write the ending to my life, I would have been buried there, under the pine trees, in that sacred ground. Now it is all gone. Perhaps in Heaven I will be allowed to visit once more, the one place that I would choose to spend eternity.
Troubador
posted by Troubador @ 11:21 AM
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