All Posts By

James C. Schaap

Essay

Small things

 There's just so much about what happened in Boston on Monday that's going to happen again.  Will people hate?  Yes.  For a dozen reasons or a thousand. There will be more.  They're already are, and some, I'm sure, are already…
Essay

Me and Norman Bates

Hey, I'm no purist.  Maybe I should be--after all, I've been a classroom teacher for my whole life, an English teacher too.  I've every right to be schoolmarmish.  Come to think of it, maybe I should shudder when some idiot, like talks…
Essay

Benediction

  On a plane, I'm a reader not a talker. In fact, I rather resent jabberers, warm-hearted folks, I'm sure, who make it their mission to discover wheres and whys about the bald man buckled uncomfortably into the seat belt beside…
Essay

Now Thank We All Our God

I don't believe I will ever sing "Blessed Assurance" without thinking of my father.  He never mentioned that hymn as being among his top ten or certainly his all-time favorite.  I don't know that he ever raised his hand to…
Essay

A Pentecostal Sunday

This is yesterday afternoon, a gorgeous February Sabbath, and that's my grandson writing a message in the light snow on the Floyd River with the butt of his Daisy Red Ryder BB gun (it was--I checked--uncocked). I like this picture…
Essay

Morning comfort, morning thanks

When my master's program was over, I wasn't enamored with graduate school, and I rather missed the high-maintenance life of a high school teacher. My chances of getting a college teaching job right then were slim and none, so I…
Essay

Education

I showed them this old picture, something the turn-of-the century on the Rosebud, most of the kids outfitted in blankets, traditional garb.  We talked about it for a while, about their blankets and whether the people weaved them or traded…
Essay

River Vision

  It wasnt' deja vu exactly.  I know that phenomenon, the distinct feeling that time and place is being strangely replicated; you're somehow sure you stood in the exact same spot in the universe, seeing a world you somehow saw before. Nope.…
Essay

The thing with feathers

Monday--I'm quite sure it was Monday--this fine feathered friend thought he'd sojourn with us for a while and determined to land somewhere in the vicinity of my desk, I guess. What he didn't count on was the fact that the…
Essay

Traveling Mercies

 I'm not unaccustomed to traveling, but yesterday, like a thousand times before, I came up on a huge strip of truck tire, something peeled from 18-wheeler, black as coal, big as a forty-year old Florida gator.  And I couldn't help…