Battles

Ferret care for a friend was on our list of Black Friday tasks. We brought Matt and his wife Karissa to visit the ferret with us. The ferret can ooze his long agile body through a space approximately 5 nanometers wide. Thus, it was no surprise to see the ferret, Leo, had escaped from his cage through a broken wire. He had had a heyday while the folks were away. The rabbit in a nearby cage had been terrorized- we could tell that by the spray of rabbit food all over the living room.  Then Leo had ripped open the ferret food bag and tossed it like confetti where the rabbit food hadn't quite reached. Next, he seems to have hopped the enclosure to the rest of the house, chewed up some small rubber things, and then decided the world was now his toilet. Little poop piles were scattered about like land mines. Not satisfied with the horror his family would feel upon returning to this mess, he had gotten in the potted plant and spewed dirt like projectile vomit all over that corner of the room. The strange thing is that unlike a dog, when we glared at him, he didn't look like he felt at all guilty.

Nonetheless, Karissa loved the ferret and wrapped him around her neck. She admitted she loves fur, but had made a pact with herself never to buy fur with a face. While holding the ferret, he went totally limp in her hands and fell fast asleep. I think there is a ferret in my son Matt's future.

What to do about the escape route? We rummaged in our friend's garage which is filled with tools, but not a thing that looked like it could fix the cage. Asherel finally found hose clamps which we unscrewed and straightend. Then clever Karissa spotted metal cooking spoons with long metal handles. We couldn't use duct tape or plastic or ties because Leo would chew through them. However, Karissa wedged the metal spoons securely in the bars, covering the gap and used the straightened hose clamps to criss-cross over the spoons and doubly insure they would stay put.

We returned that night with Arvo and a bag of tools,wire, clamps to make a more permanent fix, fully expecting the same catastrophe to meet our eyes. But Leo was asleep, the trap still secured. And a pile of poop inside the cage right near our fix confirmed that he had likely attempted escape and failed. Arvo decided the spoon fix was better than anything else we could have devised, so we left it. We had a nice visit with Leo and Bunny, and headed home victorious. In the battle of wits, we had beat a ferret. It is surprising how satisfying that was.

There are never ending battles in life. The battle to choose wisely, overcome greed, overcome pride, overcome anger, demonstrate compassion, give generously, love unreservedly, conquer illness, overcome the siren call of a 5 pound bag of gummy worms... The list goes on and on and on. Sometimes defeat pummels us far too often and victory seems to be only a dream others manage to grasp. We seem to fall short again and again.

I love the Psalms. I love them because the psalmists were realists. They were repeatedly felled by defeat, often the result of their own sin. They experienced and wrote about all the despair that continual failure wraps around even the strongest psyche. But the overwhelming message is that if they could manage to cling to God, however feebly through it all, they would ultimately taste victory. They recognized that their own efforts could only get them so far. With relief, they understood that their struggle was not just observed by an indifferent cosmic spectator, but was joined by a God who longed to help them. God did not always or even usually remove the battle, but He stood with them in the fray. And no matter the outcome, He would be able to gather their remains and lift them to a place of rest. They could curl around His presence, secure and confident that His solutions were the only ones worth having.

Leo burrowed under a blanket in his cage as we closed the cage door. He squirmed under his warm cave for a moment and then all was still. He was already asleep as we tiptoed out.

Proverbs 21: 30-31
³⁰ There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan
   that can succeed against the LORD.
 ³¹ The horse is made ready for the day of battle,
   but victory rests with the LORD.

Psalm 84: 1-3
  ¹ How lovely is your dwelling place,
   LORD Almighty!
² My soul yearns, even faints,
   for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
   for the living God.
³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
   and the swallow a nest for herself,
   where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
   LORD Almighty, my King and my God.

A Fine World War II Veteran

Right before asking a WW2 veteran out to lunch, I was at the computer and heard a loud  "clunk!"  I went to the back sunroom, thinking the sound had come from there, and saw a stunned robin sprawled on the deck floor. One wing was open and the bird was half on its side, its beak open and panting.

The dogs raced outside to investigate the clunk, but ran right past the fallen robin. I quietly cupped my hands around him, gently bringing his wing into proper position against his body. He didn't try to fight me or fly, just huddled in my hands. After showing him to Asherel, I brought him to the garden in the front yard (remember- whenever I use terms like "garden" in connection with my yard, you may get a better picture if you think more along the lines of "tumbled mass of hodge podge vegetation") and I placed him hidden among the foliage.

Then I drove over to the Senior Living Center, arriving fifteen minutes early. Already waiting in the foyer, Comer sat with Evelyn, who he had fetched even earlier from the Alzheimer's floor. I had called to surprise them. It was not our planned lunch outing day, but it struck me that on veterans day, this kind old WWII vet should be treated to a special day. As I walked up to them, Comer handed me a dog training book. It had a red sticker on it and had obviously been pre-owned.
"Got this for you," he said.
I know he never goes anywhere so the home must have had a rummage sale and he had thought of me and wanted to give me a gift.
"Oh how sweet of you," I said, "But I am the one that should be giving you a gift. I want to thank you right now for your service to our country."
"What for?" he asked. Evelyn beamed at me, happy to see the stranger that always bought her french fries.
"Today is Veteran's Day!" I said.
"Oh...that," he said.
"So has the home made a big special to-do for the veterans?"
"Not a thing," he said, "You are the only one to mention it."
"Evelyn," I said, "You be nice to him today. This is a day that honors Comer."
"Me and 15 million others," he laughed.
"Well I am not taking 15 million others to lunch," I said.
When we got in the car, I put a 50's rock and roll CD on the tape player. Evelyn instantly began singing and Comer laughed, patting her hand. It was going to be a good day. Evelyn was smiling and singing every word. On our last outing, she had remained silent most of the trip.  Even during the  "weem-a-whep, aweem-a-whep" section of The Lion Sleeps Tonight, Evelyn was singing. She looked straight ahead, a serious look on her face as she sang that silly refrain. I glanced back at her, laughing.
"You know everything!" I said.
Comer looked lovingly at her, entwining his fingers through hers.

"When I was in Papua New Guinea, there was a Salvation Army man that would fly over regularly from Australia. When it was almost Thanksgiving, I gave him  $100 and told him to get me as many complete turkey dinners with all the fixins' that he could bring back. And he did! He came back with enough dinners for 23 people. So I gave my entire gun crew a full feast on Thanksgiving."
"Didn't the army do that for them?" I asked.
"Oh no, not then. We were blockaded at least part of that time by the Japanese. For two weeks, all we ate was chocolate pudding."
"Chocolate pudding?"
"The Japanese destroyed all our other rations, but for some reason they didn't touch the chocolate pudding."
"You were kept from starvation by chocolate pudding?"
"Yes."
"Do you still like chocolate pudding?"
"Love it," he said.

Arby's is one of Comer's favorite places. As I pulled up to the drive-through window, I tested Evelyn. In her bad days, all she can do is echo the last word I say.
"Evelyn, do you want a chocolate milk shake or a coke?"
"Chocolate milk shake!"
Yes, it was a good day.

When I got back home and was settled back to my book editing at the computer, I heard another loud, "Clunk!"
Impossible, I thought. Birds never fly into our window. That could not have been a second bird in one day smashing against the window. I resumed my editing, but my conscience gnawed at me. What if it had been a bird, and the poor thing was out there suffering?
With a sigh, I went to the back door. In the exact spot where the robin had been, a little wren now sprawled on the deck. It's head was bent at a strange angle and I feared its neck was broken. I carefully cupped my hands around it and straightened its wings. Like the robin, it nestled in my hands. It straightened its head and blinked but didn't struggle. I took it to the side yard, outside the dog fence, and nestled it in some thick soft leaves under the bushes. Then I stood up and smiled encouragingly at the little bird.
It looked up at me, its neck seemingly fine.

I know everything has a purpose. In every event, God is sending a message that ultimately points back to Him. It is something I have believed since I was a very young child. This Veteran's Day, I had been thinking about war. I know there is war in the Bible, and even nations that God helps win battles. But my heart is fully convinced that war is not what God desires. It is an abomination. But are there things worth dying for, worth fighting for? I can list quite a few, not the least of which is protecting my beloved family from harm. Iit may be the way we are forced to confront evil, but it is not the way I wish the world was. It is as unsettling, as jarring, as abhorrent as a beautiful bird in flight smashing against what it thought was clear air into an impenetrable , taunting facsimile of open space. Some survive the collision; some don't.

When I helped Evelyn out of the car, she began shuffling immediately towards the front door of the Home. Comer came around from his side of the car, and I hugged him goodbye.
"You enjoy the rest of this Veteran's Day," I said, "And thank you again. I really appreciate your sacrifice on my behalf."
"War is awful," he said, "You may think you know that, but until you have been through it...."
 He shook his head.
"Well I am glad you survived," I said.
"Almost didn't... the time I..."
I glanced at the front door. Evelyn had opened it and was squeezing through.
"Ohoh," said Comer, "Better go catch her."
I watched the WWII Veteran who had once bought his entire starving gun crew a Thanksgiving Feast now hobble as quickly as he could after his wife. I knew he would catch up with her, and arm in arm they would return to the "Reminisces" unit.  The war zone had changed, but he was still in a battle, I thought.
When I returned home, the bird in the front garden stirred, and then flew to a tree top.

1 Samuel 17: 47
⁴⁷ All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.”

Psalm 55: 17-18
¹⁷ Evening, morning and noon
   I cry out in distress,
   and he hears my voice.
¹⁸ He rescues me unharmed
   from the battle waged against me,

Hosea 2: 18
¹⁸ In that day I will make a covenant for them
   with the beasts of the field, the birds in the sky
   and the creatures that move along the ground.
Bow and sword and battle
   I will abolish from the land,
   so that all may lie down in safety.

Not only the arm of flesh with us

Per the agent's instructions, I downloaded her template for my "updated proposal" and began to cut and paste from my apparently outdated proposal. Fortunately I had all the information, so it was not as though I were starting from scratch. Still, it is an overwhelming process. Especially when I reach sections like "Published Work."

I have to be very creative in these sections, because I have only sought publication with my two books I have written. I included "letters to the Editors" in this section. I realize this is a glaring deficiency but I did the best with what I had.

I finished reworking the proposal after a full day of hard work. What made it hard is the last vestiges of the nasty cold were still hanging on, and I had to blow my nose every few seconds or risk dripping on the keyboard. My head pounded, and really, I probably should have just spent one more day recovering instead of pursuing my life dream. But I finished and then wrote the agent telling her I would send it after I had looked it over more carefully. I did have a question. From what I could see, there was no section for a book synopsis. I found this strange since one would think publishers would want to know what the book was about....wouldn't they? Perhaps this was what made my proposal outdated? At any rate, was I missing something?

I sent the email and tiredly went to bed, eyes aching, throat raw.  In the morning, I felt much better and opened the agent's proposal template again to make sure I had included all the elements in my revised proposal before I sent it. And I had.....except I had completely missed the first 5 pages of the agent's template, including of course, the section for book title, author name, and synopsis.

Laying my head down, I softly pounded my fist against my numb brain. How had I missed that? I can see overlooking a paragraph....but 5 pages? I just didn't see how even in my compromised state of health I could have missed 5 pages....and the first 5 pages at that. Where all the critical introductory things appeared like a synopsis.... the same synopsis I had written an email to the agent about....wondering why her template didn't include a synopsis.

"I have just blown it," I groaned, "My last shot. The one agent who seemed to really want to give me a chance....despite my weak platform and my published work including letters to the editor."
I quickly wrote the agent and told her I don't know how I had missed it, but somehow I had. Chalk it up to illness. I would continue to rework my proposal and send it when done.

She didn't write back. I know she is busy- busy with authors that read carefully and thoughtfully and know that a proposal has to have a synopsis. Still, as Asherel reminded me, it is done and I can't take it back, so just move on. Today I will finish reworking the proposal, and pray it is not an exercise in futility.

While I was working, so was Asherel. She was concentrating with furrowed brow, hair falling across her face, and sanding the motor stick of the new helicopter she is designing. Her goal is to keep the helicopter to the bare minimum weight allowed by Science Olympiad, which is 4 grams. In case you have no concept of how light that is, that is the weight of 4 paper clips. Her helicopter that flew so well was 4 1/2 grams, but it broke. It is very hard to make something so light also be strong. That is the engineering challenge before the team,  with the added caveat that it has to fly. There have been many failures, many set backs, many tears.
It is very tempting to bag the whole thing, and just settle on the couch and eat potato chips.


King Hezekiah of the Bible is one of those kings that I relate to. He had moments of inspiration and greatness, but then plummets to depths only ingrained character flaws can carry one. He is someone who struggles mightily in his faithful walk, and sometimes he succeeds, and often he fails. I love characters like Hezekiah. It is not that I love imperfection- actually I hate it- but it is something I can honestly aspire to. Hezekiah is real.

In 2 Chronicles, the evil king of Assyria, Sennacherib has laid seige to Jerusalem. His army is far more powerful than Hezekiah's army. He is a savvy antagonist, and while laying seige to Jerusalem, taunts the people inside trying to undermine their hope. He understands that hope is sometimes all that keeps us fighting on.  So he calls out to the beleaguered Israelites:
 ¹³ “Do you not know what I and my predecessors have done to all the peoples of the other lands? Were the gods of those nations ever able to deliver their land from my hand? ¹⁴ Who of all the gods of these nations that my predecessors destroyed has been able to save his people from me? How then can your god deliver you from my hand? ¹⁵ Now do not let Hezekiah deceive you and mislead you like this. Do not believe him, for no god of any nation or kingdom has been able to deliver his people from my hand or the hand of my predecessors. How much less will your god deliver you from my hand!”

He plants doubt firmly in the minds of the beseiged. But here, Hezekiah rises to one of his scattered moments of greatness.  He understands the source of his strength and his hope and reminds his people:
⁷ “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged because of the king of Assyria and the vast army with him, for there is a greater power with us than with him. ⁸ With him is only the arm of flesh, but with us is the LORD our God to help us and to fight our battles.” And the people gained confidence from what Hezekiah the king of Judah said.

As I settle down to finish my proposal today, and Asherel slowly sands micrograms off her helicopter motor stick, it will be good to meditate on that verse....there is a greater power with us and He will help us fight our battles.

2 Chronicles 20:12
For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”