Leaves Abound

We have a pile 50 feet high and still the oak trees are only half bared. Since it is almost Thanksgiving, I will think of the leaves in a new light. We are blessed with leaves, abundantly and overflowing with the blessing of leaves. Our yard runneth over.

My bible verse this morning was about loving each other. This is not always easy, in fact I find it to be often quite hard. I want to love others, and I especially want them to love me. But others can be such irritating schmucks.

However, the prayer at the bottom of my study struck me. It said to view others as Christ sees them. And then added another little zinger about how we are forgiven and loved while we were yet sinners.  My love should overflow like the leaves in my yard. And my heart should be filled with forgiveness. And my eyes should be focused on the person that Christ knows he or she can be, not necessarily who he or she is at the moment. This is impossible, like raking all those leaves. And yet, it is what we are urged to do. Loving well, like raking, is a never ending task.

Isaiah 43:4 NIV

Since you are precious and honored in my sight,

and because I love you,

1 John 4:19 NIV

We love because he first loved us.

Romans 5:8 NIV

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

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In the Autumn

Alzheimers seemed to be winning the game on this outing. Evelyn sat silently as her favorite CD of  Romantic Tunes from the 50s played in the background. When I turned to ask what she thought of the beautiful autumn leaves, she smiled, but she remained mute.

She had greeted me joyfully. Both she and Comer had looked as well dressed and eager as ever to go on our fast food foray through Charlotte.
"What shall we eat?"  I asked.
"Doesn't matter," said Comer, "Where would she like to go?"
He pointed to Asherel.
"Her favorite is ChickfilA," I said, knowing that Asherel would be too polite to insist on a place, but meanwhile she had been wildly gesticulating to me with a desperate face when the possibility of McDonalds was being bandied about.
"Then ChickfilA it is!" declared Comer. Asherel's face flooded with relief.
"Have any visitors lately?" I asked.
"No," he said, "Well, my son in law brought me to the dentist. Had a cavity filled."
"Oh, that sounds fun."

As we headed out the door to my car, the residents were singing an old hymn.
Evelyn suddenly perked up and sang a line. I joined in and we walked out of the Nursing Home singing about Jesus.
"I think the leaves may be close to their peak color," I said as we drove.
I had researched a ritzy neighborhood we had surprisingly not yet driven through on our year of weekly drives. It was heavily wooded, with lovely mansions tucked among the beautiful orange, red, and yellow leaves. It was the perfect choice for an autumn drive.

Red Sails in the Sunset came on the CD. Normally, Evelyn belts that one out, but she remained silent.
The only thing she had said thus far was when we pulled into the drive-in and Comer said he didn't want french fries.
"Would you like french fries, Evelyn?" I asked.
Comer was shaking his head, but Evelyn had quickly said, "Yes, I want french fries!"
I noticed she wasn't eating them, however.

Comer told me about a bird dog he had once owned.
"It was a great dog," he said, "But I couldn't for the life of me teach it to hunt. Back then, dogs were all trained to be watch dogs. If you walked out in the country, you were certain to be attacked by a guard dog. I would beat them off with a stick. The owners would sit right there and not say a word. They expected you to beat their dog."
"Times have changed," I said, cringing at the image.
Suddenly, we both startled to hear Evelyn's clear voice rising among the lingering scent of chicken sandwiches and fries. She sang, smiling at me as I glanced back. I didn't know the words, though I recognized the song.
"Remember," sang Evelyn.

As we returned to the home, I helped Evelyn unbuckle her seat belt, and slowly lower her feet to the pavement. She stood stiffly and I asked if she had enjoyed the autumn leaves. I held her elbow, waiting for the old joints in her hips to straighten and her tottering balance to settle to equilibrium.
"Enjoyed the leaves," she echoed.
On her seat, was the full container of french fries. It appeared she hadn't eaten any.
"Here," I said, cupping her hand around them,"You can have these for a snack."
She and Comer walked arm in arm up the walkway and through the front door.
I returned to the car, thinking how beautiful the leaves were and how soon the wind and rain would snap their clasp on the twigs, leaving the limbs empty.

Genesis 40:14

¹⁴ But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness

Finding Balance

The problem with unlimited possibilities is that there are too many parameters for a limited mind to consider. This year, the Science Olympiad helicopter can be built out of any material, and the only limiting factor is the rotors can't be longer than 35 cm. The rubber motor (think: twisted rubber band) could be any length and weight. We could have a 500 foot rubber band motoring our copter if we wanted. The organizers were anticipating flights of 3-4 minutes. So naturally, our team set about building a copter with a long motor stick to handle the long motor we intended to use. Ben's copter flew well, though not as long as we hoped. The torque in the motor stick seemed to be absorbing the energy. He will need to figure out how to brace it without adding much weight. Asherel's motor stick was a good foot or so long, and very sturdy. She weighed her copter- over 7 grams! Almost double the weight of Ben's. In the rubber powered copter world, this is a machine that needs a little Lean Cuisine. We thought it was not likely this behemoth would leave the ground even with the huge motor. We were correct.

And this is the essence of the problem for the helicopter designer. Weight vs. stability. Strong helicopters tend to be heavy. Heavy weights require massive energy to lift off. This is why elephants don't fly. Light helicopters are immensely fragile. It doesn't take much to get them off the ground, but it also doesn't take much to snap their skinny little spars and motor sticks, sending hard working Science Olympiads crying weeweewee all the way home. In addition, light copters tend to flex, absorbing energy that is needed for lift. The perfect balance has to be found.

Balance in life... Every school year I struggle with the perfect balance. I know what it takes to get a kid through all those highschool courses, but I also know that when they finish highschool and head off to college, they leave me behind. This is how it should be, but still, I want those fleeting days remaining with us to be joyful. How can they be joyful when one is required to learn quadratic equations and the process by which ions in the thylakoid lumen are pumped throught the ATP synthase to become ATP? There just aren't enough hours in the day to learn everything that needs to be learned, or to do all the wonderful extra activities that one yearns to do. And not only was the helicopter not flying, but the trebuchet arm was now hitting the edge of the frame and it might take major re-engineering to correct this problem. Too much! Too much! Somehow, impossibly, in my opinion, one must find a balance.

There are countless examples in the Bible of God's leaders collapsing before Him, and saying, the task you gave me is too much. Many, including the great prophet Elijah cry out, Just kill me now. At one time or another, we all quake with the impossibility of life's demands. God agrees. Often it is too much. We can't do it. But He also reminds us, we don't need to do it by ourselves. Again, I am reminded that God's strength, added to my weakness equals success. He may define success differently, but really, as I look at the results of my labor, and compare it with the results of His in the glorious blazing background of Autumn, I know whose definition I better be using.


Mark 10: 26-31
²⁶ The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”  ²⁷ Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
 ²⁸ Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”
   ²⁹ “Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel ³⁰ will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. ³¹ But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”

Arguing with my Finer Self

I was lost in the story of The American by Henry James when the dogs began barking like maniacs. No one else was home, and it was dark. I had put on my PJs (yes...it was only 8:00 but my days are long and my throat has been sore) and was huddled under an afghan reading.
"Quiet!" I yelled to the dogs.
Then there was a knock.
What to do?
I was in ratty PJs, and from my seat where I sat, no one at the door could see me. But I couldn't answer the door like this! And if I tried to run to a back room and change clothes, they would see me dart across the floor like a scuttling rat. What to do! What to do!
The dogs continued barking, and looking at me. The people at the door could surely see the dogs glancing back and forth from the door to someone in the room. They must have heard me screech at the dogs to be quiet.
I sat there motionless, frozen in my indecision.
"It is rude not to answer a door," my finer self said.
"No, it is my door and they should have called first," my less finer self countered.
"Remember that low score on Hospitality you received on the Spiritual Gifts Inventory? This is why."
"I am wearing pajamas!! And I don't know who it is! I am not opening the door to strangers while clad in pajamas."
"Well what are you doing putting on pajamas before 8:00 in the evening anyway?"
"They are comfy."
I paused arguing with my self when there was a rustling at the door.
"Oh dear Lord, please don't let them be breaking in...."
The dogs watched expectantly and then there was the sound of car doors slamming, and the dogs returned to the rug to lie down. I scurried to the blinds and lifted one to peer out. It was a car I didn't recognize.
"You are pathetic," said my finer self.

That day in our home school,  we had finally moved beyond Kreb's cycle into Photosynthesis in Biology. It was an appropriate section to cover at this time of the year because we learned what happens in the autumn when the leaves change color. During the shorter days of autumn, a chemical called auxin tells a band of cells leading to the leaf stem to close off. This reduces the water supply and the chloroplasts, which produce the chlorophyll, the photosynthetic green pigment of the leaves, rapidly disintegrate. The really interesting fact about leaves is that other pigments, carotene, and anthocyanin are always present in leaves along with chlorophyll, but the much more vigorous chlorophyll blocks those oranges and reds during the summer. When the chlorophyll dies, the reds and oranges and variations we see in fall can reveal themselves. For those few glorious weeks, the hidden aspects of the leaf are revealed and then the leaves die and the bare limbs of winter descend upon the trees.

Even in nature, the inner soul will ultimately be revealed! Nothing is hidden forever. All will be exposed.
"There are some people who would open the door with a smile on their face even while wearing ratty pajamas," said my finer self.
"That is true, I am sure," I said, "But surely there is something within me that is worthy upon closer scrutiny."
My finer self paused and looked me over, head to toe.

Then Asherel and Arvo returned. Asherel carried a bag of cookies in her hand and some literature from the church we are currently attending. We didn't really leave our old church- but Asherel loves this new youth group and never quite connected with our old church youth group. So for now, we are at a new church, so we can worship together as a family and Asherel can be in a place where she seems to be thriving. Apparently, the knock on the door was a visiting committee, and they left cookies. I was very glad they had done so, as I was feeling a little sorry for myself and the cookies were a delicious diversion.
"How do you feel about not answering the door now?" smirked my finer self.

Luke 10:
 ²¹ At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do.
   ²² “All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

The contest

I read the fine print. ohoh.  The beautiful and very creative art work Asherel had spent 8 months producing might not fit exactly into the allowable materials. As she slept, unaware of the mounting despair in her mother, I emailed the contest organizers. The State organizer wrote back to say she interpreted the rules as allowing the material Asherel had chosen, but she could not promise the National organizers would, should Asherel advance beyond the state level.

I looked more carefully at the rules of the two other art contests Asherel is entering, and realized that the questionable technique in one contest was definitely allowable in the other. And the other had a bigger cash prize. The other was also a much more challenging contest, at the national level, and I am pretty sure it is adults, not children producing the past winning art in that contest. I know that as a  50 year professional artist (read: has sold at least one piece of art), the winners in that contest draw better than I do. Still, this piece Asherel was working on was one of the most creative techniques I have ever seen, all bias aside. The problem was the due date was in 4 days, and Asherel was not done with the piece that had already taken 8 months. She had anticipated another month of work.

"Can you finish it by tomorrow if I let you work on it all day?" I asked, when she awoke and I presented the options. She nodded.

Her all day art marathon was interupted frequently- Bible study, math, Gavel club, lunch, dinner, dog walking job, dog training for the upcoming agility contest......

Autumn is beginning to sparkle in Charlotte. I took the dogs on a walk, leaving Asherel bent over her art, and  noticed the leaves were suddenly riotously colorful. Out of nowhere, after a few days of glum, grey rain, the sun had made a brief appearance and I had dashed out to a world with splashes of orange, red, and yellow dotting my way. How beautiful, and how suddenly it all appeared out of the drabness! When I returned, Asherel was still bent over her artwork.

When Daddy walked in the door that night,  and asked if she wanted to play Mario Cart, she heaved a deep sigh and said, "I have to finish this. I have been working on it 10 hours straight."
Now while that is an exaggeration, it is not far off, and I heard many more deep sighs as I sat nearby reading, trying to give moral support by my presence. I will not tell you what the technique is because the element of creative surprise is crucial in this work, and I wouldn't want to spoil that for her til all her contests are over. However, suffice it to say that the process is exceedingly tedious and labor intensive.

Around 9:00, she lay down, the work propped on her knees. She continued working from this supine position. More heavy sighs.
"You don't have to enter this," I reminded her, "If it is just too much, we can enter it in the other contest and you will have another month to finish."
"No" she said, "I can be done by 11."
So I kissed her goodnight, and I went to bed, dubious.

This morning, though it was only 6 am, I couldn't sleep anymore. I had to get up and see if she had finished. I knew it was hardly possible given the difficulty of the process and how much she needed to do in so short a time. I dashed out. There it lay on the table, complete. Splashes of beautiful color and perfectly rendered form with exquisite detail, as lovingly and carefully completed as it had been started. I wished I could write the judges and tell them what monumental effort this art work had taken, the months of labor, and then the impossible spurt at the end. But it is not a character contest; it is an art contest and by artistic merit alone will it be judged.

I would not want the job of those judges- sorting through the gifts of so many young artistic souls. I could no more judge the beauty of one fall leaf over another than attempt to judge the lovely offering of one child over another, especially knowing what I know of how one child struggled to do her best. I know she may not win, and in some respects, it might then feel like it was all in vain. But excellence is its own reward and I am quite certain that the artist of the Autumn is smiling His approval.

 Colossians 3: 23-24
²³Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, ²⁴since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Terricopters

The mornings are cold again. Leaves are slowly swirling to the ground, and remind me of helicopters. Science Olympiad helicopters. Science Olympiad helicopters that we have thus far been unable to keep aloft for even as long as those pretty leaves drift lazily to earth. But the season is young. In fact, I met with my team for the first time yesterday.

"This," I told them as I held up the helicopter I had made, "Is a rubber powered helicopter. We will start our lesson with why it doesn't work."
"Well that's a cheery opening," said one member, Ben.
"You can learn a lot from mistakes," I explained.
Asherel was burying her head in either dismay.... or laughter.   But I was to have the last laugh. My helicopter flew about 5 seconds. I had them begin our time together by building their own. Neither of theirs flew at all.

"Your homework is to take this home and improve the design so it flies," I told them, "It is an open book test. You may research, consult witch doctors, or find a teacher who actually can teach all about the principles of flight."  Actually, I only said the first part of that statement. I only thought the second part.

"Next, we will discuss wing design and why they help lift the aircraft. Does anyone know what an airplane wing shape is?"
Both team members did and quickly drew one.
"Who can tell me why they are designed this way?"
And then I sat back and took notes. Thank the Good Lord, both kids are smart and resourceful and I should have no trouble reverting to my favorite form of teaching- non-interference. We are hopeful that our rotor blade design might need similar properties to an airplane wing, but I don't need to worry about it because it is also assigned as homework. In my own prep research, I did discover there is an optimal curve/shape of the blade, and that the dynamics of airflow and lift are actually much more complicated than the simple Bernoulli effect I learned about when I was in class with the Wright brothers.

Our biggest hurdle will be that our "motor" (aka rubber band) can't weigh more than 2 grams, and our helicopter should weigh as close to 4 grams as possible. This means it can weigh the equivalent of 6 large paper clips all together. Asherel suggested we just throw a paper clip in the air, as it would stay aloft longer than the helicopters we had just made.

"Next," I said, "Take out paper and a charcoal pencil."
"Why?"
"Because we are going to draw a helicopter."
"Why?"
"Because I am playing to my strengths."
"Mom. you are getting distracted again. This is not an art contest."
"Well ok, spoil sport. I strongly suggest however that we illustrate our flight log. Presentation is everything!"

Ben raised his hand,"Will we at any time build a helicopter that actually flies?"
"I certainly hope so," I answered, "But you realize you get some points for just showing up with a flight log, so we will give that our full effort."

Ok, now for all you folks out there that think my blogs are always the literal truth, I have stretched and exaggerated some of the conversation. But it is true that our helicopters thus far are not heli (towards the sun) but terre (towards the ground.) We have very fine terre-copters and I am confident that we will transistion to heli from terre given enough time.

And who can fail to notice the spiritual analogy here? We are all terre-humans longing to be heli-humans. We want to take flight and soar towards infinity and beyond, to outdistance time and space and find God. But alas, we find ourselves stuck to the ground, our souls bound by mortal flesh and bone and gravity. The wing design I need is actually much less complicated than the airplane. I just need to believe that Jesus asked God to let Him take the punishment I deserve and when a holy righteous God looks at me, He no longer sees how I have separated myself from Him through my sin..... He sees the effects of Jesus' sacrificial love and my soul can then take flight.

Psalm 55:6
⁶ I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
       I would fly away and be at rest-