Questing Parson

About the Colors

“Okay, Parson,” said the passing-through-town friend as she stood in the middle of a small bedroom that used to be Ms. Parson's sewing room and which was now stripped to the sub-floor with walls possessing marks from sanding to make them smooth again. “You're converting this into a 'grandchildren's room?”

“And you're going to have a trundle bunk bed here, a small love seat there, a computer desk there. Right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I think that's going to look really super. But you're going to paint the walls purple, green, red and yellow?”

“That's it.”

“Why in the world would you use that many colors and that combination?”

“Well, purple is the favorite color of the oldest granddaughter; green is the favorite of the next to the oldest granddaughter; red is the favorite of the youngest one and yellow the other one.”

The friend stared. The friend's brow wrinkled.

The parson said, “You don't have any grandchildren, do you?”

Ms. Parson's Window

Today's Ms. Parson's birthday. Ah, how we miss her.

I thought to celebrate I'd share Ms. Parson's (Lynn's) window that members of the church installed in her memory.

The center square of the window is actually one of Ms. Parson's own stained glass creations. Doug Clark, a church member and fellow stained glass artist like Ms. Parson, used her piece and then created the many colorful pieces surrounding it. Larry Greeson, another church member and dear friend of Ms. Parson, installed the window at the rear of the sanctuary.

The interpretation of the piece depends on who you talk to. Some members say, the pieces of glass surrounding Ms. Parson represent all those who would come to her for advice, laughter, or love in her lifetime. Others say it's all those people she helped and loved embracing her, even in death.

Either way, she'd be (and surely is) overjoyed that her church remembers her in such a powerful and beautiful way.

 


 

Dizzy Dean Said "If it's true it's ain't bragging."

My son's dance company and his dance creation, "Shadowland" made the front page of Germany's largest newspaper. For a preview of this unique art form go HERE. (It's best viewed using the full screen option.)

 

Art and Talk of Illegal Immigrants

The parson sat at his favorite restaurant in the whole wide world, The Radial Cafe, located in the Candler Park area, an inner city neighborhood of Atlanta. Years ago he’d been pastor of the parish in which the café rested. And, while he had scrupulously observed the United Methodist maxim to not return to the church he’d once served, being retired, he’d made an exception as regarded The Radial Café.

It was his affinity for the Red Flannel Hash that had prompted his suggestion that some of the participants in a meeting later in the day at Emory University meet for breakfast as the famous eatery. The parson and his fellow clergy gathered in one of the spacious booths, and soon the foods were spread before them. The parson carefully sliced the egg, over easy, atop the other ingredients of the hash so as to maximize the intermingling of the flavors. He dove in and enjoyed the feast while studying the work of a local artist displayed about the room as was the custom of The Radial. While doing so the words of the conversation among the booth’s other occupants assaulted his consciousness.

“I know what you are saying,” said Mark Watson. “But it is a problem in the community I live in. Illegal immigrants are taking jobs away from Americans who want to work.”

“Well, I tell you, it’s a problem for the people of my parish,” said Henry Rawlings. “You know, last Sunday the scripture was about the Good Samaritan. I was really shocked as I listened to various conversations as to how intense are the feelings against these folks.”

As the conversation continued the parson became intrigued by the art work on the wall just above their booth. “Man Lost In the World” proclaimed the title neatly inscribed on the card below the piece and above the artist’s name. As hard as he tried, he could not locate the “man” in the piece and had determined the “man” was genuinely “lost.” He then concentrated on the painting above the adjacent booth, titled “Confrontation of Colors.” This piece he immediately determined was appropriately named.

“The problem is,” said Alfred Mantine, “the immigration problem is causing a problem around our parish. I mean, I don’t know whether or not the immigrants, legal or illegal, are taking jobs away from the people in our area. But everybody seems to think they are.”

As the conversation continued, the parson remained silent while he concentrated on the two delights before him, the work of the local artist and the flavors of the Red Flannel Hash. Eventually, the booth occupiers noted his absence of comment.

“Parson,” said Mark, “what’s your take on this immigration thing?”

The parson drew his eyes away from the predominately blue piece that hung above the cash register which seemed to be an interweaving of navy blue upon Robin’s egg blue all of which were interspersed with an aqua blue.

“I’m sorry,” said the parson. “I confess I’m not sure what you asked.”

“I asked what you thought about the immigration problem.”

The parson pushed his now empty plate toward the center of the table, then downed the remaining decaf in the porcelain mug. Then he said, “Well, if you’re talking about the immigration problem, my take on it is that there will always be an immigration problem as long as there are third world countries south of our borders. And if you’re talking about the people who risk their lives to come across that river and desert to obtain a better life in this nation, I think we need to ask ourselves if we are first talking about illegal immigrants or poverty-stricken children of God.”

Radial Logo from website of The Radial Cafe; Red Flannel Hash graphic by subscription to Clip Art [dot] Com.

My Son and Renee Jaworski Talk The Premier of Their Dance Creation at The American Dance Festival

Choosing Joy

 The parson stood in the gallery studying the paintings handing on the wall. The collection was from children and youth of the nearby schools.

“We’ll, hello, Parson,” said a familiar voice. It came from a younger pastor who served as an associate in a nearby church.

“Hello, Philip,” the parson replied. “How are things with you?”

“Great, Parson, just great. Gwen and I have taken your advice and are getting season tickets to the performing arts center.”

“You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure,” said the parson. “Glad to see you’re making plans to take Gwen out more often.”

“Thanks for that advice, Parson. And I guess Gwen would thank you more than I. -- So what brings you to the Art Center?”

“I just stopped by to admire some of the art work,” the parson said. “The local kids have this showing every year. It’s usually pretty good. Look over here.” The parson led Philip to a painting of a horse grazing in a meadow. “Look at   this. This girl has put some art into the collection every time for the last three years. Look at this! Isn’t she great? You know her first piece was good, but she’s just developing more and more every year. Look how she has the light coming through the morning mist hanging over the pasture. She’s amazing! And she’s only in the eleventh grade.”

“Philip stepped back and examined the work more intently. “It is good Parson.”

The two walked down the wall of art slowly. The parson pointed out several of the pieces whose artist had display in the collection in previous years. After a while all the collection had been taken in and admired. The pair walked outside.

“Tell me something, Parson,” said Philip. “I read your blog the other day when you were going off on the people who don’t do their part in the work. I think you called it a rant. And a rant it was. Now here you are today taking in the art of kids. How do you go from being so upset one day to attending this art collection today?”

The parson held his car key out and hit the button to unlock his door, the sound of which awakened Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, who bounded up in anticipation of the parson’s arrival.

“I’m here today, Philip,” said the parson, “because even though I felt the need to let out some hostility, I don’t choose to dwell there. It’s places like this, full of color and promise of the future, places of joy like this, that I choose to dwell.”

Graphics by subscription with Clip Art [dot] Com