2013.07.28 The Lord's Prayer, Sort Of

When I was in third grade I decided that for my art project I would create an illustrated version of the Lord’s Prayer.  As a young child I was quite fascinated, enamored really, with God for many reasons, not the least of which was that God listened to all my chatter—laments and exaggerations and triumphs alike—when my parents, preoccupied with their Cocktail Hour, did not.  So I suppose my project was a prayer of sorts, or at least a psalm to the God of my heart.

The Lord’s Prayer was the only official prayer I knew at the time and I also remembered that Jesus told his disciples to pray this way when they asked him how to pray (such a dumb question!)  I considered this prayer a big deal and thought Jesus must have written it himself.

The art teacher, Mrs. Schultz, was enthusiastic. She helped me draw God’s sandals, hanging out over a cloud. I used lots of glitter and gold paint for things like GOD, a hallowed name, so unique no one is named God, and AMEN for the end.

Kingdoms were always castles in clouds. Bread was Wonder Bread of course, a whole loaf.

Thy will be done was a puzzle, because God hadn’t exactly told me what to do. Thinking of Jesus with the children in the church window, I settled on a bunch of stick figure children all with bright halos over their heads. At least half the children were girls with triangle skirts.

Trespasses were easy, a sign on a lawn saying NO TRESPASSING. Forgiveness was hard to draw so I just tucked it in— I'm sorry— under the lawn sign and put a little footprint on the lawn.  

I’d once stolen a five-cent pack of gum from a store and later snuck back into the store to put it back. I drew a pack of gum and wrote Wrigley’s on it, which covered temptation and evil.

For power I traced a he-man ad for muscle-building, because a horse was too hard to draw. GLORY had its own page. There was no Jesus in this prayer, even though Christians called it Jesus’ prayer and he taught it.

This is a prayer about God and all the good things God can do.

Mrs. Schultz was very pleased with my work, and my mother’ praise was lavish. Daddy loved it too. 

I knew I wasn’t a very good artist, but it didn’t seem to matter much.  

Victor RCA

I seem to be on a roll with beasts, babies and special vision aided by technology.That's what I do when I'm playing homealone#10, not sick enough to be abed but not well enough to blast off in madness.

My "roll" is okay as long as I don't get stuck worshiping the technology instead of the vision beyond it or the spiritual wisdom within its service.

A front page photo in this morning's Boston' Globe pictures President-elect Barack Obama flanked by his new and sadly necessary constant companions, armed policemen. That isn't unusual but at the center of the photo stands a little boy, looking to be either ten or six or eight and shiningly blond. He faces the
powers and stares up at Obama whose hand is outstretched. Obama wears an expression of compassionate distress as if he is saying "Oh no."

We can't see the boy's face and the caption tells us nothing about the photo just that Obama is at the Capitol to build support for his economic plan, see p.A6. But the artful eye of the photographer captures the right moment. What would a child say?

Jesus famously told his followers that the wealth of the kingdom can be seen and realized by and in the presence of a child. There are many interpretations of this wisdom, but for me just now it makes me think of Victor RCA.

Victor has two black eyes, one more than his RCA namesake, and his head usually cocks to one side or the other. He's a Jack Russell so he barks at most things, even strangers who are passing by outside and even when Victor isn't standing guard at the window. Victor's barking doesn't last long and once he knows you he 's all affection.

Our son John acquired Victor who at the time was homeless and a giveaway. It was love at first sight. John will say that Victor saved his life when he went through a life-threatening series of surgeries a few years ago.

Victor was/is a communicator of divine grace, always present, ready to love unconditionally—barking included in the love. When John and Emily had their first child, Phoebe Catherine, they wondered how Victor would take the invasion, read how long and how much would he bark? When they brought Phoebe home Victor, instantly curious, did not bark at all. He merely sniffed and kissed in the rough wet lapping ways dogs do.

I'm still curious about the no barking. The new parents had given Victor one of Phoebe's wee hospital hats to condition him to her scent before she made her home debut. That was smart and likely helped. But no bark at all? I know Victor and he still barks at me before he kisses me. Maybe I should give him one of my hats? But I still wonder.

Maybe Victor's non-barking love had to do with the cap scent. It's best to do all you can to make things reconciling and peaceful even against strong odds like Victor's barking habit. It's good not to sit around expecting a miracle but to give a miracle an assist if you can.

But I think there's more, something like the presence of a child on the scene. A child changes things. A child can convert the hardest hearts, heal a whole family sometimes. I've seen this happen at an addictions intervention. After everyone had their persuasive but loving say, the littlest member of the family a four year old who understood nothing except that Grampa might need her to jump into his lap at that moment. The child swung it round.

A child might also stifle a Jack Russell's barking habit. Victor has remained non-barking with Phoebe. In fact he now tries to clean her ears with his sloppy kisses.

Maybe that little boy in the photo, who obviously touched Obama's heart, will stay with him in spirit-memory. Maybe the child will inspire the man to sell a hard package, even one involving taxes. It depends where you look. This press photographer caught grace in the eye of the camera.