Mister Westra
THINKER / HUMANITARIAN / EDUCATOR
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Bucket O' Rocks

6/24/2020

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​“They’re just, ya know… rocks.”

You and a handful of your closest buddies are standing around looking at a bucket of rocks. Nobody is quite sure how many there are: maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand. Who can tell? Not quite sure why they’re in the bucket, either, or what they’re for. You start talking about where they might have come from, what you could do with them, how they compare to other rocks you’ve seen.

Then you – for this is the kind of person that you are – reach into the bucket and select one particular rock. You hold it up, examine its size and shape and color, toss it casually back and forth between your hands. As your friends look at you bemusedly, you show them your rock and begin to tell them its story. You spin a masterful yarn about the rock’s backstory – as if it were a person – creating an intricate web of anecdotes and characterizations that make your rock come alive. By the time you have finished presenting your rock’s flinty biography, your friends are smiling and asking questions and – significantly – reaching into the bucket to retrieve their own rocks. 

One by one, each friend presents his rock for the group’s consideration, similarly expounding the rock’s anthropomorphized qualities and characteristics – the triumphs and tragedies, the interrelated facts and features and foibles that have combined over time to make it unique and wonderful. Some of the rocks are quite smooth and shiny and beautiful, others have an odd jagged aspect that implies fantastical pivotal past events in the rock’s life story. Some of them, it is surmised, are tens of thousands of years old, shaped by subtle but relentless natural forces. Others are much younger, having arrived in their current state by the machinations and interventions of man. But as you get to know each rock, you are struck simultaneously by the utter individuality of each rock and by their many commonalities. And by how remarkable it is that somehow – through random happenstance or the mysterious manipulations of Fate – all of these particular rocks have ended up in this particular bucket at this particular point in the history of the universe.

After all the stories have been told, someone suggests that you and your friends ought to go grab a beer and some chicken wings. So, with a casual but somewhat wistful gesture, you each take one last glance at your rock and toss it back into the bucket. One wonders: would you recognize your rock again after it’s been tossed unceremoniously back amidst all the others? Was there more to your rock’s story than your casual and cursory examination of it would suggest? Could you identify one of the rocks your friends had presented to you, or be able to relate any of the details they shared with you? And what about all the other rocks? What stories are waiting to be told about them? Will anyone ever tell them? Or are they consigned to a life of relative anonymity and obscurity? – such is the fate of rocks, after all.

Taking leave of your rocks, you depart the scene to quench your thirst and satisfy your hunger and renew your bonds of friendship at the neighborhood tavern. As your voices fade and you disappear around the corner, the rocks remain exactly where you have tossed them… silent and still, but interacting unobtrusively as they always have with the living world around them.

Just a bucket o’ rocks.

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Christmas 2018

12/27/2018

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Do not be afraid… rise up… go.

Anxiety. Sorrow. Uncertainty. These were no doubt the emotions weighing on the mind of Joseph as he navigated the events surrounding the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem of Judaea. An unexpected pregnancy… thoughts of divorce… dire warnings about the cruel vicissitudes of a mad king… mysterious omens from visiting seers… an arduous trek to distant lands, fleeing violence and political unrest.

The Gospel of Matthew certainly paints a darker picture of the first Christmas than we see in the Gospel of Luke. Students in my theology classes often ponder differences in the Gospel accounts and want to know which version is true. Mustering what little wisdom I have to share, I remind them that truth is multi-dimensional. God gave us two eyes—two different perspectives—so that we can perceive depth in reality.

Christmas can be a struggle sometimes, as we perceive the juxtaposition of the joy we’re supposed to feel this time of year against the less-than-perfect feelings we might also experience. Joy. Peace. Anticipation. Anxiety. Sorrow. Uncertainty.  Which of these versions of our reality is true?

Throughout Matthew’s infancy narrative, Joseph is guided by a series of reassuring dreams. Do not be afraid… rise up… go. Not knowing how the story would unfold for his Holy Family, Joseph boldly follows the convictions of these dreams, trusting that there is a Big Picture and that he has a place in it.

Amidst whatever joys and struggles you’re experiencing this time of year, my prayer for you and your holy family is that you be encouraged by the conviction of your dreams—and that you know that you have a very special place in God’s Big Picture. 

Wishing you a 
Blessed Christmas!

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Blogging is Such a Chore...

7/29/2017

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Once upon a time I had a blog... it was somewhat amusing for me and I had a loyal following that numbered in the tens. OK, that may be an exaggeration. But every once in awhile I think about something that I want to get off my chest using more than the paltry 140 characters Twitter permits me. And I think to myself, "maybe I should blog about it." So, let's just think of this as some sort of pressure valve for when my brain wants to blow off steam. Maybe I'll never use it; maybe I will. But as they say, better to have a blog and not need it than to need a blog and not have it. I think it was Aristotle that said that. Anyway, here it is. Whoopee!
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    Mister Westra

    Mister Westra is a thinker, self-styled humanitarian, and secondary school teacher in Omaha, Nebraska.

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