Gifts of flowers that are finally dying are like leftover Eucharist bread and wine; you never know quite what to do with them. I’ve always taken the bread and wine and poured it out on the ground in the woods and sprinkled the bread around for the birds. I made a sculpture three years ago, entitled Will the Circle Be Unbroken. It was homage to all the students, faculty, and administrators, and all they had done to help me live a most glorious life for the 32 years of my vocational career. It’s now become a sacred ground to place all the things I don’t know what to do with. I end up placing used drawing pens*, old awards I was given that I never really deserved, and today, flowers from my children to help me through my treatments. God is good. God is great. Let us thank him. Wrote sitting in the woods looking at the sculpture.
*I used to live in Georgia near the Primitive, Howard Finster’s home and his working piece of sculpture, Paradise Garden. He had a sculpture made of all the pens he had used over the years to make art.
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