Day Marks

Memorial Service for Mary Ellen Ryder 6 September 2008 * Boise State University Student Union Building Friday, September 5, was a late summer day, with searing sunshine, cool breezes, and pure blue skies. It was a good day for the drive north on I-15 and I-84 from Salt Lake to Boise. There was no hint of the recent tragedy, no sign of the disaster, except for small stretches of scorched land near the freeway in a few places. At a rest stop near Boise, a “Biker Mama” said that she used to live in the Columbia Village where the fire occurred. She said that news reports stated that the fire spread very quickly, that homes just exploded one after another as flames devoured dry brush nearby. After I got settled in a hotel near the Boise State University campus, I took a drive north on Highway 55, winding my vehicle and my thoughts up the beautiful Payette River canyon in the evening light. I wanted to have a sense of Mary Ellen’s landscapes in Idaho, to see some of the places she had...

"I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him." Noah Webster inscription from the sculpture behind the Frost Library at Amherst College in Amherst, Massachusetts. (born October 16, 1758; called back April 28, 1843).

The one whose weakness seems so obvious has strengths that will astonish you.

"There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do."

"Of our greatest acts we are ignorant – " (Emily Dickinson Letter 330, June 1869)

Feeling a little dispirited one day, I took a hike in the Rocky Mountains of southern Alberta . I was not very hopeful about my progress towards perfection, and my weaknesses lay heavy in my heart. It was late spring in the valley. The flowers were out, the trees full of leaves, and warm breezes were blowing. The higher I climbed, the less green I saw. Snow lay in patches on the trail. After a few hours of climbing, I saw very few signs of spring. All around it was still cold, still winter. I sat down on a rock to rest and began to ponder and pray. I noticed a little bush in front of me; it had tiny green buds on it—just the promise of spring. As I stared at it, the little plant seemed to whisper these words, “In the highest mountains, spring comes late.” I wondered what these words meant until I had studied the green buds long enough to realize that our lives can be much like that little bush. We’ll never be content with the valley and the spring that comes early at the foot of th...

. . . Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness . . . Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom. (James Wright)