ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

This watercolor pencil sketch reminds me of the starkness of an army protecting something within. It takes more than one individual to nurture someone’s faith. In my case, I’m still a work in progress. The end of our learning, growing, stretching, building doesn’t come until our final breath. My growth began at my baptism. I was fortunate to have a set of parents who really cared about my spiritual growth – even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I was taught to fold my hands and pray as a young child. I learned all the important prayers that were easily memorized and often said in rote, so they didn’t necessarily have a profound effect on me. It took a lot of patience, love, prodding, restructuring, and learning to build something out of the little girl who thought she knew everything. I was fortunate to attend parochial school from 7th grade through high school. I had no idea the sacrifices my parents had to make for that to happen. I would much have preferred going to public school where everything was shiny and new and where all my friends were going. Instead, I spent middle school in one classroom including 5th-8th grade. It was warmed by a pot-bellied stove. Mittens were placed on top of that relic and boots dripped ice on the floor. The teacher seemed like he was 90 years old, but most likely only 40. I fought this set up for six years wondering why. I look back on those days now with thanksgiving because all of those ancient teachers were filled with knowledge that far surpassed anything I would’ve received elsewhere. They were dedicated not only to teaching the basics but devoted to sharing the Gospel with my hungry mind. Relatives and family friends also influenced that growth. We cannot underestimate the gift we’re giving our young people when we share God with them right from the start. As I watch my one-year-old great-grandson walking cautiously up to the altar to hear the children’s message, I am encouraged that even at this tender age, he’s receiving the one thing needful to each and every one of us. Thank you to all those who share their love of God with others.

A seed is sown into rich soil while others spill over to sandy or rocky areas, getting lost. When the seed takes root in that precious ground, the beginning of life emerges.

Though there will be times when weeds invade and begin to choke, but the nurturer is persistent. Digging deeply to reach the end of that spiteful root, he pulls it out of the ground giving room for the seed to flourish.

Weather and other elements of nature will invade the growing seed. If consistently cared for there is hope of a good outcome. It takes more than one individual to make this happen. An entire army of soldiers of the cross is required.

We are like those seeds, planted with optimism and hope. The sower knows some of those seeds won’t survive, but he doesn’t give up. Continuous attention and love drive him. What kind of nurturer are you? What kind of seed do you claim to be. When God is in the planting, we are all survivors.

THANK YOU, JESUS FOR ANOTHER DAY AND FOR THOSE WHO PLANT YOUR WORD INTO WAITING MINDS.