Tribute-ary: Steve Baker
St. Andrew's Day. It's a pretty disjointed narrative that connects the Jewish fisherman that became Jesus' first called disciple to a day of national Scottish pride. It's a little unnatural to toast a man who was crucified in Greece in the shape of an X with a single malt whisky that wasn't even part of Scottish lore until the last 300 years.
But I had a gratifying day at work, setting up a little demo at the tea bar of Scottish shortbread and Assam breakfast tea. I even took some plaid ribbon from the floral department and make a St. Andrew's cross on the counter. There was one elderly man with a white beard and an argyle cap. Otherwise, my "happy St. Andrew's day!" greetings from the tea demo were met with complete bewilderment. It's particularly fun to celebrate a holiday that no one else seems to notice. And it's always rewarding to tell a story that is rooted in Christ's story.
I was even more gratified to hear my friend Steve Baker's voice (mail) when I called to wish him well on my lunch break. Steve is the most Scottish man I know. And his fingerprints are easily tracable on my soul.
The Rumble Bass. A Rickenbacher riff-off, with the word "Bad Ass" printed on the headstock.
The infinite supply of Polo mints.
The inconsistent Jaguar.
The daily prayers at 4:00 a.m. to claim wholeness for a son with cystic fibrosis.
The greying steel wool haircut.
The trips to South Carolina.
The tears of pain for a family nightmare, and the tears of joy for restoration.
The utter disregard for material comforts.
The daring to find meaning in Old Testament prophecies.
The unwavering trust in the Almighty.
"Did you know the word 'whisky' is gaelic for 'living water'? But it's not; it's only a counterfeit."
"Your grass - it waters itself. And your streets - they sparkle."
"Satan, you have been defeated, you bloody, bleedin' bastard!"
May the bones of St. Andrew continue to raze noble highlanders at least half as faithful as Steve the Baker.
And may Jesus fill you, my friend, and your kin, with an unnending spirit of love and good deeds -- until it comes out your arse!
But I had a gratifying day at work, setting up a little demo at the tea bar of Scottish shortbread and Assam breakfast tea. I even took some plaid ribbon from the floral department and make a St. Andrew's cross on the counter. There was one elderly man with a white beard and an argyle cap. Otherwise, my "happy St. Andrew's day!" greetings from the tea demo were met with complete bewilderment. It's particularly fun to celebrate a holiday that no one else seems to notice. And it's always rewarding to tell a story that is rooted in Christ's story.
I was even more gratified to hear my friend Steve Baker's voice (mail) when I called to wish him well on my lunch break. Steve is the most Scottish man I know. And his fingerprints are easily tracable on my soul.
The Rumble Bass. A Rickenbacher riff-off, with the word "Bad Ass" printed on the headstock.
The infinite supply of Polo mints.
The inconsistent Jaguar.
The daily prayers at 4:00 a.m. to claim wholeness for a son with cystic fibrosis.
The greying steel wool haircut.
The trips to South Carolina.
The tears of pain for a family nightmare, and the tears of joy for restoration.
The utter disregard for material comforts.
The daring to find meaning in Old Testament prophecies.
The unwavering trust in the Almighty.
"Did you know the word 'whisky' is gaelic for 'living water'? But it's not; it's only a counterfeit."
"Your grass - it waters itself. And your streets - they sparkle."
"Satan, you have been defeated, you bloody, bleedin' bastard!"
May the bones of St. Andrew continue to raze noble highlanders at least half as faithful as Steve the Baker.
And may Jesus fill you, my friend, and your kin, with an unnending spirit of love and good deeds -- until it comes out your arse!
posted by gdwill at 10:23 PM
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