To all you mourning Celina band students:

Two of our three band directors are leaving for new jobs in other places. Mr. Cummins and Mr. Aune are taking up different jobs in different towns, but they are not too far. I want you, band kids, to take this as a letter of encouragement, not a reminder of despair.

Mr. Aune has been in CISD for two years, teaching the HS band kids and easily making friends in the middle school. He helped teach my class’s trumpets, and I would not be surprised if he taught some 6th grade band kids this year. He is an exceptional director and a good man.

Mr. Cummins has been in CISD for four years, directing the middle school and assisting the three HS band directors that have been present in his time here. He is dedicated, humorous, and can easily bring out the smile in anyone. He has taught some of my best friends, and they are the top in their section. He is in charge of the top middle school band, while his colleague, Mr. Olmstead, is directing the second band.

Both of these men have brought something special to each band student’s life. Now that it’s time to see them go, we can not let those memories and skills go to waste. They taught us not so that it would go in one ear and out the other, but so that we could use it to prosper in everything we do. Proverbs 4:13 says to “Hold on to instruction, do not let it go.” We should rejoice in the time we had with them, and not wish we had more.

Celina bands, this is just one (or two) door(s) closing. But God promises that when one door closes, another opens. This is our chance to look around us and see which doors are open. If you are mourning with us, please pray for the future of these two musicians and for the future of Celina bands. No matter who we get as their replacements, God will go before. He will never leave our sides– all of us. Remember that we will see them again, no matter what.

Mr. Cummins, Mr. Aune, on behalf of all of Celina bands, I want to say thank you for everything you’ve done for us, especially the stuff behind the scenes that we never notice or are grateful for. Thank you for teaching us all we know. Thank you for being our favorite teachers and best of friends.

 

For kicks:

Hope can be found in even the darkest of places, if one only remembers to turn on the light.                            ~Dumbledore

Considering that this is 9/11 (which I conveniently forgot about in my last post; sorry guys!), I think I should give a contribution to the three buildings and four planes that were destroyed in the first terrorist attack since Pearl Harbor, 1941.

Two planes, controlled by terrorists and full of people, were flown straight into the Twin Towers in New York City, demolishing them and the planes themselves. A third was flown into the Pentagon, and altogether they killed nearly three thousand people. The fourth plane, however, was overrun by the passengers, who took over from the terrorists and managed to crash it into a field instead of the intended Washington D.C., sacrificing themselves to save countless others.

Both the twin towers collapsed within 2 hours of the initial impact, all 104 stories of both buildings, and few on the top floors escaped. Even those that did caught diseases from the toxic fumes and things in the air from the burning and crumbling buildings. At the Pentagon, around 125 people died from the building itself, and all the passengers on the planes died as well. The passengers that overtook the plane from the terrorists all died in the crash on the field.

If it weren’t for the bravery of the people on the fourth plane, the firefighters and law enforcers that helped during the attacks, and the clean-up teams in New York City and Washington D.C., America would have a completely different story to tell about that day, and the following months and even years. Shout out to those who survived the attacks, those who helped in the reconstruction of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and to those who didn’t survive, but sacrificed themselves to keep others from further harm. Please agree with me in prayer and praise that God had significant things for us to learn from that day, and the months following it, and that we will one day get to see the people who passed again in the throne room of our King. Pray with me in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ that we will continue to learn from it, and that the story that has such significance today can continue on for as long as we live, and to the next generations that secede us.

Hey guys! I’m back!

This summer, my family and I went on a long, two week trip around the Southwest U.S.– through New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, and Colorado. To summarize– I’ll go into full detail later– where we went, I’ll say this: we went to Santa Fe and Albuquerque, the Grand Canyon, and Crested Butte, Colorado, before returning home. What I saw transformed my small, enclosed, sweet little county I call home– and my world– into something I can never dream of saying is insignificant. Allow me to recount my adventures in order. If any of this offends you, I am sincerely sorry. This is all from my perspective.

Week 1 part 1: New Mexico

The first day was boring, driving across the plains of the Panhandle of Texas. It was kind of an insult to someone who lived in the green and rolling hills of North Texas, and it only got worse when we crossed the border to the desert. Brown, brown, and more brown; that’s all I saw. There were some pretty mesas and plateaus in the first fifty miles, but then it became monotonous, and I dozed.

Our first stop before setting up camp was Santa Fe. Downtown was nice; lots of tourist shops, a nice (green!) square, and much to explore. The St. Miguel chapel, the first to be made in the U.S. by Spain (I think) was where we went to church that Sunday, the day before we left. To be honest, it was a little disappointing, but maybe that’s because we went to the Latin Mass, and I could understand none of it.

Week 1, part 2: Arizona

Monday was a driving day. We drove through red, brown, orange, and more brown into Arizona, but it was a sight better than New Mexico to see the aspens and pine trees when we arrived at the plateau that makes up the northern end of the Grand Canyon. On the way to the Canyon, I found the perfect spot for my story (tell you later).

But the first sight of the Canyon took my breath away. I had only seen pictures, but they don’t give it credit enough. I was amazed at the sight of the at-places mile-deep dip in the ground. The mighty Colorado river was a mere speck in the distance. We spent the whole day exploring the trails and pre-named outcrops, examining the Angel’s Window, Freya Castle, and many more.

The second day, July 4th, we went to the South end, the one they advertise the most because of the colors. All the things we’d seen as magnificent on the North end were tiny from the South end. The 3-hour drive was a lot more like New Mexico than my comfort zone allowed, but the sights were pretty anyway. We had lunch and watched the July 4th parade in the small town outside of the reservation before heading back to our campsite.

Week 2: Colorado

On our way out of Arizona, Dad decided to strike up a conversation about the GC. While we were on the South end, at the visitor’s center we’d watched a couple of documentaries about how the Grand Canyon was formed (I was thinking yeah, right the whole time, so this conversation helped me a little). He said that God created with apparent age, right? Man didn’t start out as a baby. The lions weren’t cubs at Creation. Chickens weren’t eggs. So couldn’t he have created the Grand Canyon with apparent age, that of which men were trying to figure out? Carbon dating can only go back so far. Scientists say the world is 4.5 billion (4,500,000,000) years old, but according to the Bible, it’s only 10,000 years old, max.

I loved that conversation. Best I had on that trip.

We drove through Utah, which was almost as bad as NM (that’s kind of my least favorite part, unfortunately). But the mountains– oh, the mountains! I saw my kind of green again, and reveled in it. Day 1, we explored Ouray and Silverton, two small mountain towns, with the Red Mountain in between them. We stayed at a camp park nearby that first night. I got my first glimpse of the Milky Way, and I still can’t get it out of my head. The thick, dark line against a population of white stars that lit up the sky better than any artificial light has captured me ever since.

The next day we went to our friend’s condo in Crested Butte, north of Gunnison. The next day, Sunday, we went to the town church, Oh Be Joyful, and enjoyed a cool summer morning worship service outside (it was the one week they had it outside, and it felt great). Mom knew the pastor, so we stayed around afterward for a little while before heading back up to the condo and resting for the rest of the day. Mom and the boys played with the Atari in my room (the pixilation was awful), I watched some of my Harry Potter movies, and we relaxed for the first time in over a week.

Monday we went whitewater rafting for the first time as a family, Tuesday we chilled in the house all day, Wednesday we explored the surrounding county, and Thursday and Friday we explored the town. Saturday we left for home, arriving late that night.

But what I learned most from this journey– because, truly, it was a journey– was that God is not limited to what we’re used to or surrounded by– be it people, places, things, or a mix of the three. He is immeasurable, inconceivable, unimaginably magnificent in comparison to the things that happen on this little planet we call Earth. In a children’s worship song I used to sing at my church, it says He’s wider than the universe and beyond my wildest dreams, and I learned what that meant this summer. My favorite part, however, was not the things I saw here on the Earth: it’s what I saw above me.

The stars.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the works of His hands.”
Psalms 19:1