Meditations on Veterans Day, Thanksgiving, Reformation Day, and Boyhood

      Yesterday I was walking through a building at my college to the student activities office. I wanted to submit my letter to the school newspaper, and as I was walking out I noticed a decoration that said "Happy Turkey Day". Turkey Day? Seriously, have we secularized Thanksgiving to the point that the only non-offensive aspect is eating turkey? (I might point out that this is offensive to vegetarians). I've lately noticed these discrepancies more blatantly than other years. Last month Reformation Day came around (on the same day as Halloween) and few of my Christian friends had heard of it, let alone secular acquaintances. I was disappointed. Two weeks later was another day that I grew up observing with religious dedication. Veterans Day. I actually went to school wearing a jacket and tie with a big American flag tie clip on it. When asked why, I replied "Why, it's Veterans Day! Respect!" I was disappointed when my school had no observance, nor did anyone else really remember it's occurrence on the 11th. Seeing the "Turkey Day" decoration made me come to a realization: I am the last of a dying breed.

       I guess it makes sense to go in order of the holidays: Halloween. We (my family and I) never really had any sort of formal celebration- we would go to a friends house and hand out tracts with candy. Mom might make sloppy joes since it was a tradition in her family. That was the extent of it. We knew about Reformation day, but we never really had much of a celebration of it until a few years ago when we first saw the film "Luther". Enjoying it very much, we started a informal tradition on Reformation Sunday that isn't really concrete, but we always discuss the Reformation, Luther, Calvin, Tyndale, so on and so fourth.
       Veterans Day. My grandfather loaded bombs onto B-25 Mitchells in the Pacific during World War Two, my great uncle died in the pacific, and several of my other relatives and close friends have served or are serving in the armed forces. Veterans Day was always a big deal. I began the day by getting out of bed and getting into to combat clothing, going outside, and running around our woods fighting Germans, Japanese, or Muslims (post-9-11). There has always been a ceremony down the street from where we live where my dad would give the invocation. We would always dress up and attend- I'd always get chills up my spine throughout the ceremony, and it ended by me walking up to veterans and thanking them for what they'd done for me.
      Thanksgiving. My parents are lovers of history. That's probably why my brother has a bachelors in it, and neither of us had to take any college classes in it (we took tests for credit instead). The story of Thanksgiving is one of the first stories we ever learned, and it was always crystal clear: Pilgrims leave England; Pilgrims come to America; Pilgrims suffer; Pilgrims overcome; Pilgrims give thanks to God for his providence (and invite Indians). Well, as I grew older I realized that what I was told was quite different than the beliefs of modern academia. They're version goes a little like this: Pilgrims are snobs, so they leave England; Pilgrims are stupid, so they starve; Pilgrims are bigots; Indians are saints; Indians help Pilgrims; Pilgrims have a feast to thank Indians for helping them. To celebrate this historical event we eat turkey on Thursday and go to bed early so we can get up early on Friday to spend ourselves in poverty. In MY home we had a traditional meal, went around the table and said what we were thankful to God for, and then watched Miracle on 34th Street (it's an old black and white movie my parents grew up watching).
      Now, I realize that not all families are the same, and culture shift isn't always a bad thing, but the state of our culture and especially the state of modern boyhood greatly concerns me. I teach Sunday school, and up until this semester I was an AWANA counselor working with 3rd and 4th grade boys. I was always sad to hear the lack of interesting things that the boys did. They watched TV, they played video games. I won't say that I didn't do either of those things when I was their ages, but I did a lot more, and I don't mean just playing sports. Here are some of the big differences I've noticed: Nowadays boys spend the majority of their free time looking at some sort of screen. When I was younger I spent the majority of my free time outdoors. The heroes of boys these days are predominately fictional (with the exception of athletes). My greatest heroes growing up were most all real people- Davey Crockett, Miles Standish, Jedediah Smith, George Washington, Martin Luther, etc.. Lately I've noticed that parents seem to be very strict in even letting their boys adventure through the woods and fields of our beautiful state. I guess it doesn't really matter because I'm not sure if they'd really have an interest anyway. When I was the same age I spent countless hours with friends back in the woods of our property building forts, playing with toy guns, and exploring. The last and most concerning for me is respect. Maybe it's just that I was smaller, but I definitely get the impression that when I attended Veterans/Memorial Day as a young boy, there were far more in attendance. I remember other boys my age who were brought by their parents because they wanted to instill a sense of respect for those have given their lives for us. Today I look around and there are so few who attendance, let alone boys.

    I very could be the last of a dying breed in the sense that America no longer values what I grew up valuing. I don't know what God's plan is for my life- whether he will give me a family and the opportunity to raise any boys of my own, but if He does, I know exactly the qualities I would hope for them to mirror- those that my parents instilled in me: namely respect. In the meantime I will encourage boys to get off the couch, play with some plastic soldiers, go build a fort, or just go on an adventure!

A Psalm of David (but not the Bible David)

I was sitting in world religions the other day... pretty board. The teacher was talking about Judaism-mostly Bible stories from the Old Testament. Although I was interested in the topic, I don't care for the professor all that much, and she's a might boring, so I looked down at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. She talked about David. David. "That's my name. It's also the name of my greatest Bible hero ('sides Jesus) whom after I was named. He also wrote psalms. Hmmm... my name's David, I wonder if I could write a psalm..."
So I tried to write a psalm 20 minutes before the end of World Religions. I kind of started with like one line and then kept going with it, so here's my final product:

Lord, give me the strength to serve you in humility;
For my flesh desires to boast
Give me the meekness to love others;
For left to myself I reap hate
Oh Lord my Lord, teach me your law!
That I may be equipped with for the work you would have me do
Show me where I err O Lord, that I may turn from my evil ways;
Oh Lord my God! Remove me from my earthly fear!
That I may be fearless in the declaration of Your mighty works;
Lord, give me the desires of Thine heart, not Mine

(I actually also made up a chord progression in 3/3 time: Am, F, Am, F, Am, F, G, C, Am, F, Am, F, G, C)

Thoughts from a Leaving Student: An epilogue of my first two college years

Forward: So. I'm leaving. I just got my ticket for South Africa and I'm unsure if I'll be back at DCC at all. I'm going to send this to the school paper this week. Tell me what you think!

From Someone Moving On:

Thoughts from a leaving student

By David Scott Harris

Winston Churchill once said, “Continuous effort - not strength or intelligence is the key to unlocking our potential.” While he was speaking in the context of a nation at war, I’ve found this to be true with my Dutchess Community College experience as well. I was homeschooled- never went any public or private school for any grade, and at the age of 17 I dove headfirst into DCC. My first class was PHS 102-earth science. It was a great first class to have. I had fun, got good grades, and left with a magnificent sense of accomplishment. I signed up for the fall semester as a full time student, not really thinking it would get any more difficult. Boy was I wrong. I can’t count the number of times I sighed in frustration that semester at the amount of effort I had to put in to my studies. I thought it would be easy! I mean come on, after all this is COMMUNITY college. I actually did pretty well that semester- in the end only receiving one B among the A’s. The spring semester was quite the same- except at the end I got one B and one A MINUS. I was crushed. Surely my GPA could never recover (yes, I have high standards). Meandering around the house on the day I got my grades back, I was in a terrible mood. My dad asked me what the problem was. I reluctantly told him about my grades. He looked at me and thought a moment. Then he asked a simple question. “Did you do your best?” I thought about it. “Well… yeah, as far as I know…” He returned, “Well then you don’t have anything to be sorry for, you didn’t go to school to get credit for things you already knew, you went to learn.” My dad is pretty smart. Over this current semester my dad’s and Winston Churchill’s words have proven true over and over. It’s been the hardest semester academically for me yet, but I’ve given it effort- I didn’t come to learn things I already knew, I came to learn NEW things, and I have!

I am now leaving. I’ve accepted an offer in South Africa to intern with a missions organization for six months, and I am unsure if I will return to DCC after. For some time I’ve been thinking about sharing what I’ve learned here with my fellow students, so here goes.

1. As I presented in the beginning, give it your best effort. You can forgive yourself for failing with effort, but without effort you’ll live with the knowledge that you could’ve done better for the rest of your life.

2. At first I felt like I was alone in my studies because I didn’t know very many people at DCC or have many friends at first. I was wrong. There are great resources that can enhance your academic performance here, such as the math lab, academic services, and GOING TO YOUR PROFESSORS.

3. This is a kind of continuation of part 2: Make friends. Maybe you’re an introvert like me and have great difficulty in this area, but it’s no excuse, you CAN make friends here, and there are a lot of nice people. If you want to meet people like you, go to the club bulletin in Dutchess Hall, look at all the clubs, and attend one! Most of my good friends here at DCC I have met in my club.

4. There are many different types of classes you can take here at DCC. If you’re taking math/science classes, the answer to a question is generally solid. In other words, 1+1=2. This is universally agreed upon. However, there are many other classes here where the answer is not concrete- it’s debatable (for example: economics, sociology, philosophy, etc.). I have a piece advice for those classes: Don’t believe something simply because a professor tells you it’s the truth. Do the research for yourself! Find out what you believe and later in life you will be grateful that you put in the time. In my experience most all professors will agree with me.

5. Do hard things. Your society may not expect you to excel academically, stay out of trouble, or help other people, but that doesn’t mean you should give into your society. Do the hard things! Study, work hard, do the right thing, and you will never regret these years.

6. Dream big. It’s repeated so much that we tend to forget its importance, but in the words of C.S. Lewis: “You are never too old to set another goal or too dream big dreams.” Never forget your dreams!

Godspeed my fellow students!

The New World Episode Two

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4L368lJHmX4
This video brings back some certain memories for me. Around the time I was in 5th grade I was extremely interested in the early explorers of America. I read countless books about Leif Ericson, Sir Francis Drake, John Cabot, and others. I knew the life stories of all the major French, British, Spanish, Dutch, German, Portuguese, and Italian explorers. I wrote papers on them for school, and dressed up like them as I ran through the woods and fields of our seven acre property. You can see the first video on facebook (search D.H. Productions) and this one is now on youtube. More to come hopefully!

Thoughts on the Death of a Friend from David Harris

Prologue: I'm not exactly sure what to call this... essay? report? I guess just thoughts. I needed to write them down so they would't be forgotten, thanks for reading.

Hi. My name is David Harris and I’m a college student at Dutchess Community College, and soon to be missionary. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Two years ago I lost a friend. His name was Daniel Mari, and he died at the age of 17. I was 16 then, we were several months apart in age. I’ve been thinking about him a lot this week because today is the anniversary of his death. Let me start by telling you his story, and then I’ll tell you what effect his life has had on mine. Danny was born in June of 1991- 4 months before me. He had two loving parents- Tony and Sharon. He also had two brothers- Anthony and Johnny. He also had a wealth of friends- many from school and many from the church his family attended. That’s where I first met Danny. I lived in the house next to the church, my father being the pastor. Danny and I became friends so long ago, I don’t remember how old I was, and all I remember are the kind of things we used to do. His mother would often clean the church, and help my mother clean our house (she had injured her back when she was a nurse). Danny and his brothers would often come over during these times. (I have two brothers who were the same ages as Danny’s brothers). We could often be found on the 7-acre plot my family and I lived on playing with toy guns or building forts. As we grew up we had a lot in common- AWANA, Boy Scouts, sports, etc. When I was 10 years old Danny and I both went to a Christian camp during the summer of 2002. We both had a very hard time at that camp. I was extremely homesick and cried most of the time I was there. Danny got picked on by some of our other friends and other campers there. I left two days after arriving due to illness, but Danny stayed the whole week. We were both often picked on in Boy Scouts as well, but we had a decent time until our troop folded in 2005. After that I didn’t see Danny anymore. His family stopped coming to our church and I had other friends, so I didn’t reach out to Danny like I could’ve. I didn’t see Danny for almost a year from 2005-2006, but then in the middle of 2006 we got a phone call. Danny had leukemia. I didn’t see him for a long time over that year, but heard updates often when my parents would talk about his situation. During the summer of 2007, things didn’t look very good for Danny. I went to visit him in July of 2007 with some mutual friends at the hospital where he was to receive a bone marrow transplant. We visited him for about an hour and talked about our days in Boy Scouts and such. He was extremely positive and said that he was glad he was going through all this now and not later in his life. We left and I didn’t see him again for months. I saw him in December of ‘07 at a event for my church youth group at a bowling alley. I said hello, but we never got past formalities really. Once again, it was a while before I saw him again. He may have been once or twice that he came to church over the next few months, but even if he did I probably didn’t even say hi. Then my house received another call one day during the summer of 2008. The bone marrow transplant had infected Danny- it was unsuccessful. My parents and I drove down to the hospital in New York City to see him in August. It looked grim for Danny. We didn’t know if he’d make it through the day. We spent what seemed like an eternity waiting to go in while the nurses and doctor attended to him. Finally, we went into his room. Danny was reclined on hospital bed with what seemed like a hundred tubes and needles connected to his body. He couldn’t talk either. A pipe was attached to his esophagus helping him breath so that he could not talk unless it was capped. The nurses left the room and we talked to him. He started crying at first sight of seeing us. I’m really not sure if it was because he was happy to see us, or upset because he didn’t have the ability to give us a hug or even effectively talk to us. I’ll remember the way his eyes looked that day until the day I die. It was clear to me that this was a young man terrified of dying. He capped his breathing pipe back in so he could breath better. My father talked to him for about a half hour about being sure of his salvation. I quietly listened until it was time for the doctor to come in and check on him again. I waited for another hour or so while my parents talked to his mother. We saw him one last time before we left that night. He was extremely upset- even hitting his bed with anger because of his setbacks. My dad talked to him a little more about spiritual things, and he sobbed. He waved goodbye to us. The doctor told us he was doing better and that his best chance was to keep his fighting spirit. I left totally believing he would be ok, but I knew seeing a peer in that condition had changed me. One month later Danny’s condition was still declining, so my friend and I with my parents and younger brother made the trip to NYC to see him. This time he was laying on the bed asleep. We were told the drugs made him come in and out of conciseness. Eventually he came around and saw us. He couldn’t really speak, but he mouthed out our names as he saw us. My father talked to him about spiritual things for a while longer, but this time instead of the fear he had demonstrated during the previous visit, he looked up us and smiled the biggest smile. It was then I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was looking down at a fellow brother in Christ. There was no trace of that fear I had seen previously. I knew then that no matter what happened to Danny- whether he lived or died he would be ok. Danny died October 21st. The wake was held three days later on my birthday. It broke my heart to see so many people there with no hope at all for Danny. I wanted to shout, “Don’t you know where Danny is! He’s the happiest he’s ever been!”. The funeral was the next day and it was much the same. I sensed a hopelessness in the hearts of many of the attendees. I wasn’t hopeless. I knew where Danny was. Now I’ve just told that story to introduce you to how Danny’s silent testimony has changed my life. My life moved on. I started college,and became more and more immersed in my every day wind and grind, but rarely a day went by that I didn’t think of Danny (as I still do today). Gradually I thought more and more deeply about Danny’s short life. He didn’t get the chance to attend school, work an occupation, or get married- the three things that my peers are most focused on. Danny’s life has taught me so much about my own life! Whenever I remember him I remember what’s truly important in life. Whether I am “successful” in college, work, or relationships is really irrelevant to the true purpose of my life. His short life has inspired me to travel to South Africa on missions, lead a Christian group on my college campus, and given me courage to face sin in my own life. Danny couldn’t really talk at the end of his life, but if he had been able to, I think I might know what he might have said. He would asked why his peers are so distracted by the things of this world and refuse to dwell on the important things in life. So I challenge you: what is distracting you? What is holding you back from living the life that God would will you to live? Is it your social standing? Your academic goals? Sports? Your girlfriend, boyfriend, or pursuit of such? Luke 12 talks about a man who spent his life in the pursuit of building up earthly treasures. What did God call this man? A fool! He had spent his life pursuing things that had no eternal bearing and his life was required of him. What about you? Young man? Young woman? Your very lives may be required of you in an instant, let along two years of Leukemia. You may not the chance to prepare as Danny did. I don’t know why Danny was taken at the prime of his life. I don’t try to pretend that what happened wasn’t a tragedy, and he won’t be missed immensely. However, I know the Bible says that God works all things together for good to those who believe on His name. Maybe God saved Danny by taking him home, I don’t, nor can I ever know, but I trust in God and HIS purposes instead of man’s uncertainty. My hope is that if you are reading this and you don’t know where you would end up if your life was required of you this day, that you would know! Danny knew that if he confessed Jesus as Lord and believed in his heart that God raised him from the dead, he would be saved (Romans 10). Also, if you do know where you would go, but are distracted by the things of this world, that you would throw those distractions off, and live your life as if it was worthless except for what God would will for your life. I thank God for allowing me to know Danny Mari.