The Greatest Tragedy

Death comes in many forms. Divorce, loss of friendship and of course the actual ending of life bring the feeling and reality of the absolute helplessness and blatant knowledge that we are not in control. The finality that squeezes our heart and keeps our lungs from filling with air is unrelenting. But Death is not the greatest tragedy. A young life cut short, an accidental death, a birth defect; these are not the greatest tragedies.

The greatest tragedy is a life that does not point to the eternal, that does not remind us that this life is short and there is so much more to consider than just these 80 or so years that we may be given. Our bodies die, but we go on living. And what have we left behind? What is our legacy? Of what will people be reminded when they peruse our character, integrity, accomplishments, awards, possessions, job, skills and art? Will they be mournful that we are gone, but richer having met us? Or will they be sad that our accomplishments on this Earth had momentary results that have blown away in the wind, forgotten as quickly as the momentary pleasure that they gave?

Is it our place to question when a friend goes Home? Is it our place to question ourselves, as if we somehow could have stopped it from happening, as if somehow God wasn't around at the time, and needed us to step in? As if we could have done anything! Don't we know that God was watching, God is in control, and God knows the Eternal picture that we have no clue about?

Even though God slays me, I will trust Him. We are merely Clay in the Potter's Hands. He will do as He desires. Yet His Mercy is Boundless, His Grace, Amazing. Throw yourself at His feet, and ask for that Mercy that He so freely gives.

Then live! Live in such a way that you pass on the legacy of a victorious life of faith walking the trail that God has marked out for you. Live this life to it's fullest, and seek to leave something behind that does not burn down, or rust, or get lost, a Legacy that points to the Eternal. Do you believe that the things that God is asking of you today are important? Do you believe that these jobs, done with Love, will last eternally? Do the job that God has asked of you today. And then lay yourself down.

The Old Boat

Abandoned

This Body will someday be

Like a peeling boat exiled to land

A ship banned

Never to return to Sea.







Rusted still

These Limbs will someday be

Old tools at the bottom of the box

Under frozen lock

And long lost Key





But this Body is More than mere Tool or Boat

Meant for much more than Work or Float

It's My Home





It carries me till I come to shore

Step out of the boat and sail no more

Except to Board the Vessel that will Spirit me Across that Dark Vale







The tools will be shut away, the boat will lose it's sail,

Never more to Roam.

-Eric Clayton September 5, 2008

Little Girl

Little Girl,
Where have you been?
There in the old photo,
With Tigger in your arms, and your heart in His.
Is he the reason for your big toothless grin?
He won’t hurt you. He’s the only safe one on this earth it seems.
You’ll never find One like Him again.

Little Girl,
What scars do you carry in your memory’s eye?
who locked that heart so tight?
and hardened it,
and pressed on it,
and crushed out the light,
so your soul is always night?

Little Girl, there in the photo,
You could have been whatever you wanted to be
Endless possibilities
The old photo knows no bounds
You were absolutely free
WHY WON’T YOU LISTEN TO ME?

Little Girl,
Are you still there in the old photo?
Please come out and play.
Night can end, breath in a new day.
Free yourself of the terrible weight
And give Tigger your Heart and your Fate.

By Eric Clayton, August 20, 2009

I Would Never Have Done Such a Thing!

“There but for the Grace of God Go I.”

NO!

No, No, NO! The statement rings false.

The more truthful is “There I go, and yet there is God's Grace”.

There is no sin I can't commit. Indeed, every sin known to man resides inside every cell of my body. It's not that I'm a sinner because I sin, it's that I sin because I'm a sinner. It is what I am through and through. So how can I look at my friend who has done this heinous thing and judge him? How can I be angry? How can I say “I would never have done such a thing!” ?

There has been a Death today. Death of a Friendship the way it used to be. Death of a Relationship, Death of a Marriage, Death of Trust. There is no relenting of the pressure pushing down on my heart. My breath is short, my eyes are raw from crying. A stench fills my nostrils, my stomach is churning, my hands are shaking. Things can never go back, this Death is Final.




But God raises the Dead. God is the Builder of Relationships. God is the Father to the Prodigals. God is the Creator of the Universe, of all that is Good. And God works ALL things together for good for those that love Him and are called according to his purpose.

Even my sin.

Even my friends heinous sin.


So I put my Trust in Him. I know that He can work Miracles, He can take this horrible awful mess and somehow clean it up, He can make something good come out of this. He can use this to build us up, to make us take stock of our own life, to mend fences, to repair broken lines of communication, and to repent of horrible thoughts, and horrible words we've said. We must humbly suck it up and make ourselves vulnerable to the criticisms of others, because through their words God can build us up toward the Full Human Beings that He intends us to be.




And He can take this horrible awful mess and somehow clean it up.

I have no idea how.

But if God can part the Red Sea, Slay the Giant, Close the Lions mouth, and Rise up after being Dead, He can do anything.


-Eric

Gookie Dawkins, Where Have You Gone?

Gookie Dawkins, where have you gone?

A friend of mine, a life-long Cubs fan and all around great baseball-thinking-man, gets the credit for pointing out the importance of names in baseball. A few years ago, I was relating a story to him about a Cubs/Giants game at Wrigley. When Marvin Benard made his entrance into the game during the 6^th inning, someone in the outfield bleachers, having warmed up his emotions with some cold beer, started calling “Maaaaarviiiiiiiin!” “MAAAARVIIIIIIIIN!” Slowly, others around him started calling, and from our seats by first base, we could hear the swell of noise steadily growing. A fellow behind us asked, “What are they saying out there?” “They’re yelling ‘’MAAAARVIIIIIIIIN’ at the runner on first, his name is Marvin Benard.” “Oh”, he said. And then, as if it was, of course, the most logical thing to do in the world, he also began yelling “MAAAARVIIIIIIIIIN”. We joined in too, and to this day, I’d love to ask Marvin what was going through his mind at that moment. To be in Wrigley, and have all the opposing fans calling his name. Did he think we were cheering him or booing him? He was no superstar, who ever heard of Marvin Benard before tonight? And yet, in Gregorian fashion, here were 25,000 plus fans slowly chanting his name. If I recall correctly, he got thrown out at 2^nd. They continued to call his name, but as the inning ended, so did the echoes.

My friend laughed at the story, but pointed out that really, the name Marvin Benard does not belong in baseball. Names like Rollie Fingers, and Lefty Grove, those are baseball names, but not Marvin Benard.

Of course, he was right, and I’ve been conscious of names ever since. I’m a relatively new spectator, and wanting to be a good baseball disciple and learn all I can, I soaked in what he was saying, and immediately applied it to my own study.

I struck it rich when, the next year, during a search for a new player to bolster my ailing Fantasy League Team, the name Gookie Dawkins jumped out at me. GOOKIE DAWKINS! Now THAT’S a baseball name! If anyone belongs in baseball, he does. He’s sure to be around for years to come. It’s his destiny.

But, alas, I don’t see his name on any rosters this year. A logical explanation would be that he was sent to rehab in the minors. Because, of course, Gookie Dawkins belongs in baseball! Baseball needs you Gookie, where have you gone?

Casual viewing of games at the ballpark and on TV will afford a real-life education and familiarity with some modern day baseball names. An in-depth study using the internet will afford you a veritable PhD. in Baseball Nomenclature. Below, I offer a treatise of what I have discovered to be a few of the Rules of the Baseball Name Game.

If you have a really weird last name, you have to be a closer (Gagne, Isringhausen, Takatsu, Smoltz, Guardado)

An otherwise normal name must be spelled in some kind of weird way (Moises Alou, Torii Hunter, Lew Ford)

If your last name is Molina, you are required to be a catcher (Benjie, Jose, and Yadier)

Changing your name for endorsements is acceptable (Coco Crisp, Milton Bradley)

Some names may inspire needless fear (Kevin Youkilis, Terrmel Sledge, Chris Bootcheck, Jamal Strong)

Other names inspire needless ridicule. (Craig Dingman, Bartolome Fortunato, Jimmy Gobble, Tim Spooneybarger, Kelly Wunsch) Oh, there’s a joke in there somewhere, I just know it! Let’s see….”Dingman was Fortunato to Gobble a Spooneybarger for Wunsch!” YES! A MASTERPIECE!

Names don’t really say it all, either (Andrew Good doesn’t appear to be, Kevin Cash doesn’t have much, Darren Bragg shouldn’t) But sometimes they do (David Riske has been very risky, Pat Strange seems an odd fellow)

Some names seem like bad omens (Larry Walker, Chris Singleton, Hector Luna, Jack Cust, Damon Minor) or are in the wrong sport (Nick Punto)

But a cool name is what is most important. A cool name guarantees you a spot on the roster. Cool names are the very foundation of Baseball and are remembered for generations. That’s why we like players like Pokey Reese, Wily Mo Pena, and Junior Spivey. Trot Nixon, Chipper Jones, Rocky Biddle, Rocco Baldelli, Ty Wigginton, these are all names of which we would be proud to tell our grandchildren. Imagine taking your 9-year old grandson to a game, as Gookie Dawkins comes out to throw the ceremonial first pitch. Your grandson is wide eyed, as you tell him of the exploits of Gookie, how you watched him in his prime, stabbing at line-drives up the middle, flipping them to the second baseman and turning the double play. You watched as he bunted up the 3^rd base line for the second time in the game, and, for the second time in the game, beat the throw to 1st. And you were in the stands when Gookie stole 2^nd, 3^rd, and home in one inning. “That was baseball, my boy. That was serious, scrappy baseball.” Your grandson will quietly ask, “Grandpa, can we try to get his autograph?” “Of course we will, my boy. I know he’ll be glad to give it”.

Gookie Dawkins, where have you gone?

The Men of Normandy

The Men of Normandy

Where are the Men of Normandy, those bravest of the brave?
Where, those alive and with us? Where, those in sandy grave?

I looked for the Men of Normandy, been searching all my life.
I’ve scanned in books and movie plots, and in today’s headlines.

We look to them to teach us, we need their strength and valor.
Tip the scales back against our weakness and our pallor.

We need those Men of Normandy who gave it all that day,
Bravely facing certain death yet going anyway.

We love the Men of Normandy though only boys back then,
We need their courage and fortitude to change our sons to Men.

We owe the Men of Normandy but nothing can repay
What can give them back their life and fade the memories away?

Where are the Men of Normandy, those bravest of the brave?
Where, those alive and with us? Where, those in sandy grave?



I found the Men of Normandy, they’d been there all along,
Quietly uncomplaining, bronzed, sooty, strong.

They were on the stairs in New York City, and the caves of Kandahar,
On the streets of Fallujah and in cockpits in the air.

From emptied palaces in Baghdad, and the outskirts of Kabul,
Resurrected and fighting for the end of tyranny’s rule.

Salute the Men of Normandy with silent voice and hat in hand,
Honor them! Revere them! that strong and frail band.

-Eric Clayton, June 6, 2004

920 w Wilson

Chicago, IL 60640