Guayacan

"I like to carve when I have some time on my hand."
He looked at me thoughtfully.
We were both stuck behind a long line at Bank of America.

"One time a friend gave me a piece of guayacan. It was a pretty thing. It called out to become a crucifix. Once I was done, I wanted to make a little placard to go with it. I usually give my carvings away. Do you know what I found out?"

I shook my head slowly.
I did not want to disturb his reverie. He seemed to be in another time.

"Guayacan is the toughest wood out there. It's used to make cricket bails, the belaying pins in sailing ships, and even used as a lap to cut gems. What got me though (he paused slightly), was its latin name: lignum vitae. Wood of life. And I had carved Jesus on it, the Author of Life. The Spanish call it holy wood because you can use it to treat stuff life coughs and arthritis."

"Do you think it was a coincidence?"
I met his steady gaze.
"Only if you want to call it a coincidence," I replied.

Photo credit http://www.stri.si.edu/english/site_tools/photo_of_the_week/index.php?id=156

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life with Ashes

Image
It was time to move. Goodbye to Allen Parkway and hello to Florin Wood. Our family was moving from Houston to Sacramento. This was over 20 years ago and the day comes back with ashes. And a smell. My dad had piled all our old clothes, furniture, and knick knacks into a huge heap in front of our yard. He poured gasoline generously and lighted it with a smile. My mom looked on regretfully. All seven of us kids were delighted with the dancing flames. The neighbors didn't care. We lived in what they called the ghetto part of the world and since we were not shooting at anyone, we were okay. "We're starting a new life," my dad reassured mom as our van entered the highway. "No need to hang on the old stuff." "It was pretty dinky, wasn't it?" my mom replied hesitantly. Our years in Houston were our first years living in the United States, far away from the land of our origin, Vietnam. What dad burnt was the few possessions we accumulated fro
Read more

To Die

Image
After her husband was executed, Bùi Thị Xuân and her daughter was sentenced to death by elephant trampling. Both she and her husband were skilled generals, faithful to the Tây Sơn dynasty, and the rebels waited for this moment to exact their revenge. Before the herd of elephants stampeded her only daughter's 16-year-old body, she turned and cried out to her mother. "I cannot help you in this moment. Die worthy of a general's daughter," Bùi Thị Xuân fearlessly counseled her daughter as she watched her daughter die before her eyes. After Bùi Thị Xuân suffered the same death, the soldiers fought among themselves to eat a piece of her liver. They believed she was "gan lì" which meant unwavering intrepidity and eating her liver, or "gan" would make them just as dauntless. Fr. Châu opened his homily for the Mass of the 117 Vietnamese Martyrs with this heroine story from our history books. He said anyone can die for a dream, an ideal, a vision. Yet,
Read more

Kippah

Image
" 'Do you have a kippah ?' That's what this visitor asked for." One of us pointed to our head. "Yes... yes, you know kippah is Hebrew for a head covering for men." My class and I was at the Dallas Holocaust Museum for an on-site learning experience. Or a field trip for college students. "Does anyone know why traditionally Jewish men wear a kippah ?" the docent continued. "It's a sign of respect and fear for God, acknowledging that God is above us," one of my classmates offered. "Right before your group walked in, this man asked for this. This was the first time in all these years I heard someone asking for a kippah. I think he recognizes some thing of what is here, some thing of why are here. We are in the realm of sacredness," she continued. None of us spoke much on our way back. We had been full of comments and observations on our first field trip to the synagogue. We knew we didn't have a kippah to wear. But w
Read more