Tribute to Carver Christian High School

The word evokes images of a workshop
Sawdust floating softly through the air
Caught in golden rays of sunlight falling beautifully through the window

A craftsman
Shaping, trimming, refining with design in mind
Making things of beauty out of organic materials

We are those organic materials.
The parents and students and teachers of this place
Human beings created by his grace
To breathe and live and love and create in the Spirit of Christ

He’s in the middle of our name
He’s one of great fame
Our perfect example
Our mission, our purpose, our vision
Our healer, our leader, the Great Shepherd of our souls
Is the Carver of our lives

Is more than the cobbled collection of buildings
Located at 7650 Sapperton Avenue, Burnaby, BC
Is more than the neverending cream of cinder block walls that line our halls
Is more than the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights that blind our eyes
Is more than the dilapidated curtain that hangs so forlornly from our gymnasium ceiling
Is more than the depressing windows so high on our basement walls that all we can see are grey and clouds

Is like our second home
A place where we are known
A place where we are grown
Where together we all transform and become something we were not before
Like the dust of this place, the spirit of Carver will never leave us




A little girl
Born of love
With future bright
Filled with laughter
Enjoying play
Embracing life

Becoming woman
The bleeding came
With some fanfare
But never left
This rite of passage
Would never stop
Incredulous at first
Hidden horror
Permanent pain
Silent shame

This flow defined her
Discredited by family
Disdained by friends
Dismissed by men
Denied the temple
God seemed silent
Invalid entry

Of many physicians
Touched only by strange men
With stranger solutions
Unable to help her
She suffered greatly
At their incapable hands
Their familiar disgust
This must be God’s doing
The sin of your parents
Her resources exhausted
Broke and broken
Her emotions numb

12 years of sorrow
Rumours flew
Of a rabbi from Nazareth
Teacher of thousands
Provider of bread
Calmer of storms
Healer of the blind
Physician of the lame
Could healing be found
In the touch of his hands

Pressed by urgency
She entered the crush
The teeming masses
Clamouring for attention
They would quickly turn on her
If they knew her secret shame
Nothing to lose
She pressed forward

The packed procession
Was headed her way
There he was
This rumoured rabbi
Now in sight
Amid the noise
The busy commotion
The jostling bodies
She nudged toward him
Heart pounding
Doubts screaming
Fingers shaking
Twelve years of pain reached out
Stretching for deliverance

Fingers made contact
The change was instant
The impact was visceral
Power poured into her
Alone in the crowd
They were oblivious
She could feel it
In ripples
Her body awakened
Her suffering over
Her stigma removed
Her hope reborn
Light poured in
Tears streaming
Heart rejoicing

Who touched me?
The rabbi had stopped
The crowd surprised
The bedlam reduced to a whisper
Onlookers expectant
Somehow he knew
His gaze took her in
She was discovered
How would he respond
Would he call her out
Would he recall the gift
Would he demand payment
Used to humiliation
Used to rejection

She edged through the crowd
Toward the rabbi
Toward the light
Toward the power
A secret no more
She crept forward in fear
Falling down before him
Kneeling in worship
Confessing everything
Her undeservedness
Her silent shame
Her agony

Finally safe
He took her arm
No fear
No condemnation
Gently helping her up
His eyes embraced her
His love washed over her
And then his first word to her



*see Mark 5:24-34