A Rock Named Matthew

I WIELD AN AX AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK. Not the kind you see lumberjacks slinging to bring down timber, or what Mr. Lincoln would swing to hone his rail-splitting skills. We’re talking a piece of wood with polymer pieces, whose only metal are six, thin strings – and when finely tuned and my fingers and wrists are not screeching with hints of arthritis allow me to play guitar in my church’s praise band, Upon This Rock.

Three of us out of our eight-member troupe have been at this for more than 11 years. . The band’s longevity outlives the work of such giants as the Bay City Rollers, Dino, Desi and Billy or any group featuring Boy George. We’ve even been featured on two professionally produce CDs with other local contemporary praise groups. You can’t buy them, but I would be glad to pirate you a copy if you’re so inclined.

We’ve had many venues within our faith house: in the sanctuary, the narthex (fellowship entry area) and today inside a spacious community life center; Sunday evenings, Saturday nights and now a service that parallels our traditional 10:30 a.m. traditional service.

And it’s been a fun, exhilarating and fulfilling ride. There’s no bigger kick than sawing those strings or playing the occasional lead on songs geared to make you think, to feel and to tune into your faith or some aspects of your beliefs.

A Baby in Every Bottle

… Mrs. Jones she had no children,

And she loved them very dear.

She took three bottles of Pinkham’s,

Now she has twins every year…

I WAS HAVING ONE OF MY TWICE-WEEKLY phone conversations with my Mama the other night when she shared with me a story of near-miraculous science and marriage from nearly six decades ago.

Ever since the day she exchanged wedding vows with my Dad back in December 1949, she wanted children. Not in just a few years after they had settled into marital bliss or when things were more established. No, sir – she wanted to be a mother from the day things their marriage became legal and proper and with the appropriate paperwork in place.

My old man was a bit more reserved for such wishes and obviously willing to put off such plans as long as possible. I suspect his desire was fueled by the fact he was the oldest of 12 siblings in a family scrambling to survive during the Great Depression. Mom had other plans.

“Son, I have to admit I was jealous of my friends and your Dad’s sisters having babies,” she told me. “I had my heart set on it and that was that. I spent a lot of time crying and worrying over it.”

Never doubt the ambitions and the dreams of a young wife. She sought the best medical advice of the day.