The biblical town with the nasty name: a childhood memory

 One of the results of aging is that I no longer multitask, that quintessential American activity. When I try, I get all tangled up. Not good.

But I can still pull a two-fer. Or a three-fer, for that matter. That means that while I can do only One Thing at a time, I can use that Thing for different purposes.

This morning my One Thing was to write a poem. But look at all the stuff I’m doing with it:

--I’m writing down and processing a childhood memory. That’s one of the tasks and privileges of those of us in our latter years. Writing down (or recording, or telling the kids) our memories helps us be grateful, work through and heal past traumas, begin to see the pattern in it all, and pass on a legacy to the next generation.

--I’m being faithful to my intention to include writing a poem in my morning time of reading and reflection.

--I’m continuing with my project of praying and writing my way through the Scriptures.

--I’m playing with words, always a good thing to do.

--I’m posting it in this blog, another commitment.

So I guess I’ve actually pulled a fiver, and it’s not even noon. Goody for me.

Here’s the One Thing. If the title of the poem offends you, ignore your reaction and just read it anyway.

Shittim
Joshua 2:1

I remember an adolescent Bible study
when my turn came and the portion
I was to read included
the town of Shittim. I stopped short
of the name. I couldn’t read it out loud.
The other kids giggled. The leader,
a no-nonsense grown-up, made me
continue and I somehow mumbled
my way forward. Later I learned
that Shittim meant acacia, that the town
in northern Israel was probably
nestled in an acacia grove.
A tall acacia tree stood in the front
yard of the house where I grew up
and I used to climb it. My secret place
was hidden in the upper branches
where I could peek through the leaves
across Wilson Road and see the far hills.
I loved that tree
without even knowing
its name.

The memory of my squeamish adolescent reaction to the name of that biblical town makes me laugh. But the mental picture of that acacia tree makes me grateful. The memory is showing me that a hiding place can sometimes be a place of greater seeing. And it reminds me of how important trees have been in my life.

And still are. I think I’ll go outside and take a walk.