Watching toenails grow.....

The highlight of my sister's week was a ride in the ambulance transporting her to a new hospital. She took pictures along the way, posting them to facebook, so we could all see how she spent her summer vacation. This summer vacation appears to be made up of scenes from looking inward, rather than outward. She had thought she would get a whole hour of freedom from IVs and medical jargon and medical staff. She had thought she would be allowed an hour drive to her new digs with her husband in their own little car. But I think the nurse overheard them plotting a trip through the McDonald's drive- through on their way to the new hospital. (Amy has had only ice chips for 2 weeks or so now. Her pancreas cannot process anything but that at this point.) So she was stuffed into an ambulance instead where she snapped pictures of the scenery along the way, and her toes.... toes she has spent weeks lying in bed contemplating.

This hospital is better acquainted with the procedures that may be necessary. It affords her at least new ceiling tiles to count. She is in too much discomfort and on too many pain pills to be able to read, or watch TV long. Visits are tiring, and she doesn't really feel up to them. The hours drag on as the doctors wait to determine that the pancreatic pseudocyst has hardened enough to drain. From what I could glean from the little research I did, it really is better to wait for the portions of the pancreas that die in pancreatitis to fully differentiate themselves from the healthy pancreas cells. This apparently does happen if the surgeon waits a few weeks, and the patient outcome is far better. But the waiting is not fun. Of course, it rarely is....not when the waiting includes deprivation.

I am flying out in a week and a half. At that point she should be done with her operation, home recuperating and I will come and be her slave for a few days. After going on a month in the hospital with a brief interlude between the two visits there, it is likely she has some chores that I could help with. Of course she told me not to come, to stay home and deal with the wedding plans of my son in a month. But all my obligations for that are almost done. I just had to finish the wedding painting which took an unfortunate turn yesterday.

I had sent photos of it to Matt and his lovely bride to be, Karissa, asking them for final critique. I wanted it to be perfect in their eyes. No one else's really matter. After writing down all their suggestions I had a two page list. Nothing was too major, but any one who has ever painted knows that if you change one thing on a painting, it sets off a creative domino effect. Slowly, every thing else has to change to support that one change. At one point yesterday, Asherel walked by and saw me lying on the floor pounding my head against the rug.

"How's the painting coming?" she called in.
"Don't look!" I cried, "Please don't come in!!!!"
She of course came in. And laughed. I had to laugh too. At that point, Matt looked just like a chipmunk. I had removed his lips to shorten his nose which I suddenly realized was a shade too long, and his teeth a little too crooked, and had not yet returned lips to his face. However, two massive Beaver-like front teeth gleamed unobstructed from any semblance of a human mouth.
"I've ruined it," I told Asherel. Nine months of painting down the drain.
Still chuckling, she walked away.
I felt almost as bereft as Amy.

So I went back to work. I worked all day on it, about 9 hours straight. Karissa had thought Matt looked fine before I had made the changes. It was Matt that had suggested the changes. So I sent them both the revised portrait. Karissa's mom, who was roped into consultation, thought perhaps I should ignore their suggestions as she felt it might have captured more of Matt's essence before. Matt however loved the revised Matt, and had one more tiny suggestion.
"Forget it," I wrote back, "I am done."

So the painting is finished, and for the record, I will never ever ever ever do another wedding portrait. And for the record, Amy will never ever ever ever have another ice chip after this ordeal is over.

I suspect looking back on both events, both of us will find the humor, the lessons learned, the silver lining. Retrospect is God's gift to the patient.

Deuteronomy 8: 2-3
² Remember how the LORD your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. ³ He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.

Hibernating

"I remember now why I left New York," I mumbled, sprawled on the icy driveway rubbing my sore hip.
I had mumbled similar thoughts for the past hour as I chipped away the sheet of ice from our treacherous driveway.
("You have used that word 'treacherous' four times today," Asherel told me later that evening.)

And I as I was splayed on the recliner later, a heating pad over my bruised muscles, rubbing my sore wrists, I decided winter is a season for young people. Of course, raking leaves is no picnic for back and arm muscles either, and I guess cutting the grass in the spring and summer takes its toll on ancient joints and lungs too.  I think it is possible I am crossing the bridge into wimpdom. My mom was running marathons at my age..... I dread to think what I will be like in a few years.

 And it is not even just that the spirit is willing but the body is weak. If I must be honest, the spirit is not all that willing. Chipping icy driveways and falling on cold hard concrete is just not as riveting as settling down with a cup of tea and a good book. I used to be a bundle of energy, but I am becoming lazy.

As I was moaning and settling into the warm recliner, I read an article about the overdriven aspect of modern life. Everything is competitive to the point where students of educational institutions that once used to center on the joy of learning for the sake of being well-learned now center on cramming whatever facts they need into their bursting brains to get the best grade and best job and best house on the block by beating out all the other students. A spirit of communal joy in knowledge and cooperation has been replaced by cut throat competition. The author pointed out in counterpoint that "Lions sleep 20 hours a day."

I thought about that. I don't know what to do about the competitive nature of education, so went straight to thinking about the lazy lion. Why would God have designed a creature that only really lived for 4 hours a day? For that matter, there are tiny frogs in the Sahara that will sometimes burrow for years until a good rainstorm finally shows up. Then they pop out of the ground like pimples on a teenager and start racing around to eat, mate, and hop. As soon as the rain ends, they head back to burrow their life away. And some frogs hibernate in the winter and their bodies, which possess a natural antifreeze slow down so they can last all winter long without needing to kiss a single princess. Some can even withstand their bodies being frozen solid and still thaw out alive in the spring!  My tired mind meandered on pondering these strange facts. For someone who knows all creation points to the Creator, I had to wonder, "Why?"  Why would God create creatures who only reached the potential of liondom, or frogdom for such brief flickers of time? It just didn't make sense to me.....

Except, I realized, in the monumental and everpresent lesson of patience and perseverance. If anything can teach us about that, it is the lion and the Sahara frog. So much of life is spent learning how to wait and while waiting, learning how not to despair.  For example, after six full months of waiting for my book proposal to be read by the agent I am hanging my hopes on, she just wrote to tell me she lost it! (I wrote about this in an earlier blog post.) Then she said if I would resend it, she would read it by Friday....this past Friday. I know all of you who like the lazy lion sleep 20 hours a day while waiting for news about my life were wondering when Friday came and went, why I didn't mention what she said about my book. Well, Friday came and went with no word from her.  I agonized about whether I should bug her, or just wait patiently and while waiting, what should I do? By Tuesday, I was sure that blood vessels were slowly exploding as I held my breath, so I finally broke down and wrote to her.

"I don't mean to bug you....well actually, truth be told, I do mean to bug you...." I wrote.
It turns out she was deathly ill, and ordered to bed and rest for a solid week. She had not forgotten me. She gave no timeline this time on when she would read my proposal and I realized, I must look to the Sahara frog as my guide, and hunker down for perhaps another long season of drought.

I think one of the best Biblical examples of expectant, faithful waiting is Noah. Noah was told to build that big boat, the Ark, in a land that had never seen rain, hundreds of miles from any water. For three years he built a boat while his neighbors all came and laughed at him. So he built and he waited.... and finally the rains came, and he definitely had the last laugh.

So this season of waiting, and resting, is not just a great cosmic flub. It is planned, and ordained, and even blessed! God is always preparing us for something. Sometimes it requires that we hunker down for a good long while, nursing aching joints, or flagging energy, waiting for His call to rain down on us, prompting us to hop into His arms in the fullness of life when to every onlooker, we seemed half dead.

Proverbs 8: 34-35
³⁴ Blessed are those who listen to me,
   watching daily at my doors,
   waiting at my doorway.
³⁵ For those who find me find life
   and receive favor from the LORD.

Seeing What I Could Be

The idea of building a 6 gram helicopter was disrupting my sleep. How on earth were the kids going to do it? As I read over the Science Olympiad forums though, it was clear that the best helicopters came very close to that minimum weight. With the model of my double plastic cup rubber band powered helicopter in mind, I headed to the Hobby store. I would consult with the experts.

There are clearly some people who should not be in customer relations jobs. I think if you don't like people, you should work with sharks or maybe gardens.... but you shouldn't own a Hobby shop. Because HELLO, guess who is doing the hobbies? People!

But I had the ill fortune to walk into a hobby shop where the owner clearly did not have the patience or inclination to deal with beginning hobby-ists.  As I grow older, I must rely more on my wit and charm to help people get past my inanity. My good looks just don't seem to cut it anymore. Unfortunately, my wit and charm is not always all that it could be either.....

"Hi! " I said cheerily, noting I was the only one in the empty shop, yet the owner did not bother to look up or move towards me in any kind of welcoming stance.
"I need to build a helicopter," I began, sure that would elicit some response.
"Just sold the last one," he grunted without glancing my way.
"Well I need to build it myself, and I would like some advice on materials. It can only weigh 4 grams."
That did make him look up.
"4 grams?"
"So I am thinking balsam wood."

Later when I recounted the story to Asherel, she cringed and said, "You didn't say balsam wood, did you? It is BALSA wood."
I looked it up and indeed it is balsa wood, though there is a Balsam wood also:

Balsam Wood. Palo Balsamo.—This is a South American wood, derived from an unknown tree, which is believed to contain guaiacin, and which yields to distillation nearly six parts of a thick viscous aromatic oil. This contains as its chief constituent a crystalline solid of alcoholic character, melting at 91° C. (195.8° F.) and corresponding closely to the formula C₁₄H₂₄O. It has found employment in perfumery. (Schim. Rep., April and Oct., 1892.)

Balsam is useful in making incense. Balsa, on the other hand, is a very light wood and is what I did indeed mean, but the Hobby Shop man overlooked my mistake and waved me in the direction of the Balsa.
He called out to another morose and rather unfriendly fellow in the back to help me find the Balsa.
This man looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and perhaps that explains his taciturnity.
He showed me the balsa strips and I asked him how we would shape the strips to form a helicopter rotor frame. I knew we soaked them, but asked him how long.
"Til they bend," he said.
"How long is that, though?"
"Long enough to get what you want," shouted the most disagreeable owner from the front of the store.
"I read that I will need a bearing also," I said.
"For what?"
"For the rotor to spin against," I declared.
But then he felt the need to clarify what this bearing would be attached to and how. Of course, I didn't have the foggiest notion but tried to bluster my way through it, the way my dad taught me. Use a lot of words and hand movements and say things like, "Of course" and "obviously".  In the end, Mr. Taciturn said, "I suggest you draw up some plans and then come back."
"Oh we will," I assured him, "I just want some materials for them to play with and practice, trial and error.... you know how useful trial and error can be."
He didn't answer and I think the Hobby Blobby in the front shook his head.
"But we won't get the bearing for now, just the balsam and the tissue paper covering. Will that rip? It doesn't look very sturdy."
No it was not very sturdy, but if I was careful, it would not rip. They rang up my supplies and hurried me out the store. Mr. Hobby Blobby didn't look up as I said, "Goodbye now! Thanks for all your help!"

When I left the store, I realized that I felt bad... and stupid.  Now while this might be true, there are some people whose company I leave, and no matter what I say or do, they make me feel encouraged, hopeful, and respected.  I wondered what  people feel upon leaving my company. I am often irritated by incompetence and carelessness. I do not respond well to people who exhibit those traits. But I remember a Bible study once where we are admonished to treat others as though we see them with God's eyes, with all the potential of what they could become. That attitude gives a whole different perspective on what we are viewing.What might have happened if instead of seeing an ill-prepared, uninformed, and bumbling neophtye, the store owner had seen an aeronautic engineer in the making? What enthusiasm might he have sparked, and latent genius uncovered?
I left with a prayer for my own attitude, "Oh Lord, let me see the potential in every creature you have made, and treat them as though they have already become what you designed them to be."

Mark 10:20-22 (New International Version)

 ²⁰"Teacher," he declared, "all these I have kept since I was a boy."
 ²¹Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said. "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."
 ²²At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.