Day 47 Art, The Man

February 21, 2015
Day 47


Today, walking out of Walmart, I said to myself, "Stop, look, and listen." These were direct words from Art Rogers, from a long time ago. It was in Canada at a mission station where he and his wife and children were missionaries. I was probably nine or ten and I think he was chastising my brother Doug who needed a bit of direction. I remember at first not appreciating his tone. I was protective of my little brother and was kind of a spitfire from birth when it came to authority. But his words made an indelible impression.

Fast forward to today, age fifty-two, and I am walking towards my car in Walmart's parking lot. Art is speaking to me again. "Stop, look, and listen." So, I looked both ways. Oh, Mr. Rogers, you have helped me in The Neighborhood for all these many years. Your words have spared me from danger.

Art also taught me how to swim, NOT. Instead, he gave me reason to swim. I was probably five years old and both our families were at LeTournea Christian camp on Canadaigua Lake. I loved this place. So many wonderful memories and this would have been one of my first. I was fretting like a little five year old whether or not to jump in or not. What if I would never come up again? What if I couldn't climb up the ladder? Just little five year old thoughts.

Art settled my wandering, fretful thoughts.  He lifted me off my feet and dropped me in. I had on a lifejacket and yet the drop was enough to push me down under and pop me up again. However, it felt like I was underwater for an eternity. As I was going down I remember thinking, "Did he just do that?" I answered myself, "Yeah, he did just do that! Why?!! That was not nice!"

Being introduced to swimming by a lift and a drop was exactly what this little girl, too big for her britches, needed. From little on I have not needed a coaxer but a shover. Did Art know that? I don't know but it was a moment I will never forget.

So, Art Rogers, though the years have grown up our families on very different and not so different paths, I think you need to know that you still talk to me and I have always attributed my love for the water to your drop. You trusted me that I would be fine. I crave trust. Thank you for helping to shape who I am.