Medicine Park

Not so very far from Lawton, Oklahoma, huddles a sleepy little resort town called Medicine Park.  It was first created just after the nineteenth century jumped eagerly into the twentieth, and politicians wanted a place to rest from the tension of making laws and running for office.






A lot of water pours through little streams and wide, shallow rivers onto the tilted plain of Oklahoma. Left to its natural inclinations, this water wouldn't linger, but rush self-centeredly onward to cast itself into the Mississippi and from thence to the sea.  Fortunately for Oklahoma, some of the aforementioned politicians decided to dam the rivers and create a jillion little reservoirs to water the villages during our not-so-uncommon droughts. They also built lakes and ponds to supply a few large cities.


One of these reservoirs was just perfect for the building of a little resort. Hence, Medicine Park.  For a few years, it thrived. People built tiny cabins from the round stones manufactured in the area, or they camped out by the pond-river and fished. There was a large restaurant and a plethora of social events.


Medicine Park was the place to visit, and everybody who was anybody in Oklahoma spent time there.


Then a few events transpired: The Great Depression, World War I, and World War II to name them.  

The town fell into disuse. Walls made of wood and canvas rotted away, but the stone
foundations remained.










Animals moved into the semi-shelters. The restaurant failed, as did the grocery store. For years and years, Medicine Park was a poverty-stricken ghost town. Then, in the optimistic 1990's, some clever developers discovered the place and promptly turned it into "the place to be" again.
There was a mad scramble to buy all the original structures...

... build large cabins over and around them, being careful to preserve any round stones, which had become the status trademark of this new, popular hide-away.

Teeny little restaurants opened on the week-ends, and visitors sat out in the Oklahoma shade and talked about how hot it was.

Condos re-opened under modern management, and they were no longer out-dated; they were quaint and rustic.

Some cabins overwhelmed the original buildings, but, as long as they had a round-stone foundation, they were accepted as part of the elite avant-garde society.






Down by the water, weeds were cleared away and landscaped plants were carefully positioned to look like natural growth.

A trail was blazed to follow the "river"s edge.

And antique-looking lamp posts sprang up under the cottonwood trees.

Abandoned wagon wheels were manufactured to become the support for serendipitous park benches, where one could stare longingly at one's fishing bobber as it refused to submerge.

Ducks and geese soon took advantage of the swimming hole, conning the visitors out of Cheetos and potato chips.

But the visitors didn't mind. They only wanted to frolic in the water as it poured over the walls and sit in the sun, listening to music on their cell phones or texting all their friends about how great life is when we get back to nature.

Rest and relaxation are good medicine, after all.

I visited Medicine Park recently, and enjoyed the shady trail beside the water,

which ends abruptly near the dam, in a flight of stairs leading up to main street.

I particularly admired this house, and the way the builder used old stones to reconstruct the stairway.

Artists and musicians have moved into Medicine Park, making it a venue that is "sought-after".

Statues abound--a cougar, a giraffe, and a native buffalo.

Down by the water, Oklahoma children play.

The restaurant is thriving once again.

And the hamburger stand serves real buffalo burgers.








It's a fine place to visit on a cool summer day!

 Wow. We started school off with a full week. I've hardly been home. First, there was a teachers' retreat/work time at Roman Nose Park, then days of in-service, a get-acquainted/health physicals/annual school meeting/re-arranging classroom night, a board/faculty supper, enrollment, first school day.
Then it really got busy. Student council had planned a "sleep-over" for the first school day, so most of the students stayed for fun and games.

 As the sun went down on the football field, the students were divided into teams and had to create an imaginary country so they could compete in our own version of the Olympic games.

 This team, performed their pledge/chant, and demonstrated their flag.

 Here's another flag...from the little country of Bartatos. (It was a hybred from the two mentor groups: potato and barley. I know, you can tell we are a rural school.  Actually, our theme for the school year is "Harvest". This combine is tossing potatoes into the air. It's weird...but that's ok.

 Water games kept everybody cool. By this time of the evening it had cooled down to around 98 degrees, so nobody objected.

 But they made a lot of faces for this relay race.
They stayed out at the field and watched a movie on the baseball diamond--"Faith like Potatoes".

After that, the guys spent the night out under the stars, camping on the football field, while the girls rode back to school to sleep in the dorms, where
 I awaited their arrival, which turned out to be rather late.

There were girls in sleeping bags all over the living room, and in one of the dorm bedrooms.

They didn't seem to mind the crowded conditions.

This one slept in the closet.

And this little prima donna claimed the only bed. She's another one of my "grand-students". I taught her mother and all of her aunts just a few years ago (at least it seem like a few years.) She's irrepressible at a slumber party.  But, that's the way life really is.

 Supervising wasn't too bad, actually. The girls were exhausted from all the fun and games at the football field, so we all got to sleep by one o'clock...at least I did. It wouldn't surprise me if these little angels didn't whisper a bit longer.

 Just look at them. Would it surprise you?

Friday, we awoke to an all day excursion/back-to-school, get-to-know-each-other party. We all went down to Medicine Park, a tiny resort town near Lawton.

 There were fish and geese in the water, but that didn't deter too many would-be swimmers. Most of the students piled in.

Since, it was actually cool enough to walk around and enjoy all the quaint little shops, I didn't indulge in water sports. I preferred the "river walk", a lovely little trail, from which it was possible to watch the river... and smell the river.

 We teachers all milled around to our heart's content, visiting with students and each other.

Then, as the temperature began to climb, we all piled back into the vehicles for a short trip into Lawton.

 We ate at a Pizza place, where the students played arcade games, laser tag, and bowling, while a few of us enjoyed watching Olympic basketball on an overhead screen.

 I think you can tell how a couple of hours in air-conditioning gave new energy to the weary.

 As they stalked virtual prey in virtual jungles

Competed in virtual races, rode a virtual train, and erased whole worlds with a sweep of a mighty hand!
It was exhausting. . .

We finally got all the intrepid explorers back to school around five o'clock. I think they had a terrific time.


Monday, we start real school in a real world.

Olympic Limericks

Behdad Salimikordasiabi

He's drawn super heavyweight, Iranian fame

And crumbled the uneasy challenger's claim.

Assertive and burly,

He began training early

By carrying the ponderous weight of his name.

Four years ago I wrote three Olympic observations in the form of limericks. Oddly enough, they still apply this year. So I dusted them off and am putting them back on the blog shelf. Then I added a couple more in honor of all the hours we've spent watching the games...and Geiko geckos and a conspiracy to get us to watch upcoming Bourne movies...and inarticulate Chevy truck owners...and other advertisements ad nausea... oh well, Olympics, I said.



Men's Gymnastics--The Chinese

They're doing remarkable things
On the horse, on the bars, on the rings
Their leads are commanding
They stick every landing
They've balanced their Yangs and their Yings

Michael Phelps

His perfect, elongated torso
has been featured as never before, so
When his swimming suit slips
Down toward his hips
The length of it seems even more so.

Badminton Scandal

These famous badminton abusers
Looked much more like cruisers than bruisers
Their plays were so lame
They were kicked from the game
For trying to be the best losers

Gabby Douglas

The smile is as big as the girl
With a twist and a leap and a whirl
She swings and she soars
While the crowd stands and roars
For their fabulous, high-flying squirrel



Shelly-Ann Fraser

The 100 is no piece of cake-a
You cannot afford a mistake-a
Just a cool running leap
for a clean medal sweep
It's Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica!


Ok, readers, if you want to add your own, send them to me in a comment and I'll post them...

Here's one from Carina:

In London the people are running
And swimming and boating and gunning,
But here I'm just beat
Walking out in the heat
Only watching and cheering and sunning








Then I wrote one for the runners:

Though chased by a feverish pack...
a Kenyan in front and in back... 
Tirunesh Dibaba...
from Addis Ababa...
took off with the first gold in track!



   This one's from Matthew

There once was a runner from Wales,
Who trained with his dogs on the trails.
When his races were run,
He didn't win one,
"I'm sorry I only chase tails!" 



And another from Carina

There was a young lady from Perth
Who knew from the day of her birth
She was born to compete
Flying fast on her feet
Could she be the next fastest on earth? 










Here's one to celebrate golds for Phelps, Franklin, Ledecky

We don't, in one night, as a rule
Make such a big splash in the pool
But Phelps took a gold
Then was followed, I'm told
By two girls not yet out of school 

 And one for the hours of diving...

There were few dives the diving team wouldn't do
And fewer than that that they couldn't do!
So, fearless and brash,
They made a big splash
Which is precisely what they shouldn't do 

 

For Beach Volleyball

Remarkable cheering, I'd say
For Kerri Walsh and Misty May
Whose volleyball shorts, 
quite the barest in sports,
Add meaning to "hip-hip hooray!".






Trampoline

They snickered when China's young Dong Dong
Was announced, but his program was strong strong
His daring routine
On the high trampoline
Beat them all, so they didn't laugh long long




Granada's First Gold

And, speaking of Olympic names
We can't forget Kirani James
Who ran for Grenada
As hard as he otta'
And earned the most famous of fames.



Here's one from Rinkly Rimes...who lives in Australia

Two sailors from my local area
Have beaten Taiwan and Bulgaria
The hopes of us all
Were pinned to their 'wall'.
Though others were quite a bit hairier.



To David Boudia (who beat the Chinese world champion to win a gold)

In the platform semi’s he nearly lost out

But Boudia’s grand final we all talked about

When the flawless Chinese

Began feeling the squeeze

And his gold-medal smile soon succumbed to a pout

 The Fastest Man
 

Like lightning, he bolted, then chattered

Of every world record he’d shattered

The mighty Usain

Left them all in the rain

And, to him, that’s the one thing that mattered

 

 

Wardrobe Malfunctions

When the suits of the polo teams

Are held on the body with strings
It's hard for them all
To keep watching the ball
Cause' they're worried about other things

And finally…I write one to all the Olympians

Alas, the Olympics are over

Say goodbye to the white cliffs of Dover

And to every athlete

Who went down in defeat--

All those who are not “in the clover”

No camera was trained on your face

No multitudes cheered for your race

Yet you ran in a manner

That would honor the banner

Of the country that gave you a place

And as fame is obscured by the years

So also, your pain and your tears,

Will yield to the glory

Of a much larger story

Olympians, you share the cheers!

 

Leading Worship

There's a difference between leading worship and performing.
Most worship bands don't understand that.
If you are asked to be the entertainment for a group, and everyone will be listening to you, and enjoying your performance, then go ahead and perform. Be excellent!

But if you are called to "lead worship" at a convention or a weekend service, that's another thing entirely.
Your goal should be different. You can't merely "worship" in your own little over-lighted stage world. Your job is to pull from the audience their praise and direct it to the highest heavens while you stand out of the way, enjoying the inevitable presence of the Holy Spirit who comes to honor sincere worship.

Having attended over a thousand worship services in my lifetime, I've made a few observations that may be worth the time of an aspiring worship team:

I. The focus
It should be on Christ, not on you. This isn't the time for little jokes among band members, for idle banter and flattering introductions. If you play and sing well, the audience will be aware of that; you don't have to prep them by describing your talents and applauding each other. You don't need to entertain them with quirky stories about those who invited you to come. You need to direct them to worship.

II. The songs

An audience cannot worship if they don't know the songs. Even if the melody line is simple enough to play on two lines of the staff, learning a new tune and new words requires concentration. Nobody worships while struggling to learn the song. You probably think it isn't "cool" to sing last year's songs, but you have to think about why you're singing at all. You don't want to hear your own solo voice, however impressive it may be. You want to hear a river of praise--voices moving along together, harmony overlapping melody and ascending.   So sing songs the people are likely to know--not the three you wrote last week.

If you must sing the latest compositions, then teach them to the audience. Repeat them the next day, and the next. Give the audience a chance to really learn them; mix them with familiar songs people can sing without craning their necks to see the screen. I know, they will never get to see the massive range of your repertoire, but so be it. That's not why you've been asked to lead worship.

Don't just sing songs taken from albums of popular singing groups. They sound good. They have great chords and elegant key changes. But they are also pitched for professional singers. The average person out in the audience might have heard the songs, but they can't sing them--beyond joining in on an occasional "Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh".  If you are leading young people, who've memorized these songs as they heard them on the radio, it might still work. Otherwise, avoid them. Worship isn't supposed to be a group try-out for "Who's Got Talent?"

Keep the order simple. Don't take off swooping and diving from refrains onto bridges leading to sub-bridges and back to verse two again. If the slide-runner has trouble finding where you are in the song, so will the audience, particularly since they don't know the words and music. And, if they are stumbling all over the song, they will finally give up in frustration and sulk--an activity not very conducive to worship.

I'm not saying you should avoid new songs all-together, but use them sparingly, until they, too, become familiar melodies.

III. The power

Before you ever get up to sing, pray. In fact, prayer is a more important part of preparation than tuning the guitars to the keyboard. Also, include prayer as part of the worship. It's uplifting. It points to Heaven. It leads an audience to worship, something you can't force them or shame them into doing.
 
Worship can be powerful. There have been times when God's presence shook the house as worship and prayers were lifted. It was a phenomena that can't be evoked. Don't try to imitate it by screaming the guitars and turning up the amplifiers to make the place shake and all souls tremble. That's not power in worship. It's just noise.

Sometimes the greatest power in worship comes quietly...after the shouting.

So...ask yourself. Am I leading worship?
Are the people singing, praying, worshiping?
Who's getting the applause?
When it's all over, will they remember me?
If not, maybe I've been successful.

Worship Band

They move in syncopation
each in his shining circle
swaying on an elevated stage

Blasting--bold and brazen--
guitars like whips of rhythm, and a
drummer in his plexiglass cage

Nineteen spotlights flashing
blue and red and purple
changing to reflect the singer's mood

We cheer and clap with every song;
they pull the audience along
for, "Jesus, this is all about You".

But I wonder if we've thought this through enough
"Why aren't the blazing spotlights pointed up?"