Plans amidst the waves

I saw the house I want to buy. It is on a huge lake, and right next to its dock is a rounded large rock, that slides into deep water. What fun the kids and their friends could have on this rock, all the way till they smashed their head open with the inevitable wrong step. I bobbed in my kayak and called the number posted on the dock.

"Are you the person selling the lake front house?" I asked, peering up the hill into the plateglass windows where the owner stood, talking on the phone.
"Yes," he said, "It has the finest view on the lake."
I glanced around me, "I can see that. How much are you asking?"

As I considered how even $100 would be too much to a family currently unemployed, I realized that there was a way we could afford the dream house. I began visualizing the form Disney would send for movie rights to my book.
"One million," Disney offered.
I kayaked and considered the offer. One million doesn't go far nowadays.
"Two," I countered, "And my son the lawyer will need to be sure it is all in order, of course."
"You drive a hard bargain," said Disney, "But because we feel so strongly that this is the best book ever written, we will offer you $3 million."
"Is that your final offer?" I asked, bobbing on the waves.
"Ok, 4," said Disney.

My castle building evaporated as a large wave from a passing jet-ski threatened to capsize the kayak. I paddled back towards the car, thinking how much my parents would enjoy having lunch on that beautiful deck on the cliff overlooking the lake. You never know. God brings visions and hopes for a reason.

Later when I told Arvo about my dream house, he said he would never forget a statement by a preacher, Charles Stanley: "God is not interested in our ease, pleasure, or comfort."
"How about my parents' ease, pleasure, and comfort?" I asked.

I suppose he is right. God puts His people through some pretty vigorous wash cycles at times. Still, He tells us that He wants to give us the desires of our heart. As I kayaked back, watching osprey soar overhead, the water blue green reflecting quiet forests around it, and listened to the stillness, I did have a lapse in my selfishness. I paused to thank God for all I have been given, for how many desires of my heart He has blessed me with over the years. And back home, I clicked on Amazon.com to discover that Comer's book was newly available for purchase. I was surprised to see my name beside his, as editor. I had known, of course, it would be on an inner page- I didn't expect any other billing. I wish I had done a better editing job....And he had already sold one book! My old millionaire friend had just made $3!
And it struck me that my sweet senior friend had received this seemingly impossible desire of his heart at age 93!
You just never know where the purposes of God might land you, or when. Until then, keep paddling.

Psalm 37:3-5

 ³ Trust in the LORD and do good;
   dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.
⁴ Take delight in the LORD,
   and he will give you the desires of your heart.
 ⁵ Commit your way to the LORD;
   trust in him and he will do this:

The carrot or the stick

"First one packed and back to shore gets to dole out the oreos!"
I shouted.
The groaning teens, who did not want to leave the river and return to school work suddenly shot into action. Even the nearby Great Blue Heron perked up at the mention of Oreos.

"Oreos!" cried Josh.

He began racing around the sand bar, gathering his skim board, throwing on his life jacket, and hopped in the boat.
"What's the hurry?" asked Ben, who must not have heard me.
"I want to be the oreo doler!" cried Josh, shooting off into the current.
"Oreos!" said Ben, and he jumped in his boat and raced after Josh.
Asherel was slowly and methodically settling into her kayak. She had a secret weapon though. She knew the short cut under the low pier bridges along shore.

As the three kids raced each other back to shore, and I glanced happily at my watch, I knew that this time, we would beat rush hour traffic home. There was none of the usual dragging and dawdling. Why am I so dense to forget to use the "carrot" rather than the "stick" more often? The boats were unpacked, loaded in the car, and everyone settled with hungry faces in their seat exactly by my timetable. The oreo doler, who was not told he had to be fair, was fair...to some degree. There was one extra oreo and to avoid any semblance of favoritism, he ate it.
"Cause I'm just that kind of guy," he told the group glaring at him.

It was a wonderful day, as kayaking on the Catawba always is, but I learned (again) a very important lesson. It is perhaps the lesson most critical in raising happy children. Motivate and encourage with positives. Punishment and threats just don't build joy. Yet when I am at the end of my rope, patience, and energy, I reach for the easy solution, the "or else" solution.

God, as usual, knows best. We are made aware that Hell exists, and we do not want to go there. However, the overriding message of the Bible is that God loves us, and yearns for us to love Him and be with Him. He beckons continually with the offer of sweet mercy, forgiveness, grace, and eternal joy.

And I plan to keep a bag of oreos in my kayak kit.

Ruth 2:12
¹² May the LORD repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the LORD, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”

My Food

"If you have evangelized the world and lost your family, you have failed," said the teacher at Sunday school. His message is one that has always resonated with me. I see the mission field as big as I can handle without leaving my street. Everywhere around me are people with needs; spiritual, emotional, physical. And that is before I walk out the door to get the paper. I truly admire missionaries who brave extreme deprivation to minister to distant people no one else cares about. It is all I can do to be a faithful minister to the ones that depend on me in my own family. So I really appreciated the teacher's message. Sometimes, it is most important to do a little thing well in your own little corner of the world. You can not be all things to all people, or in all likelihood, you will be no good to anyone.

I thought about that, as I left Asherel with a friend for the day, and went to the river alone. I had to meet with the marina owner anyway to set up a kayaking party for our science olympiad group. After arranging those details, I headed upstream. The current was not terrible, and the sun was not too hot. A cool breeze was in my face. I kayaked till I was halfway tired. This is not always easy to gauge. Sometimes I think I am only halfway tired, but when I turn to head home, I find out I was two thirds of the way tired, and then I stagger to the finish with melting muscles and buzzards circling overhead.

However, on this occasion, as I turned to head back, the dam waters must have been released behind me. The river swelled, and the current became swift, and the tail wind added another few mph to my ride. It was exhilarating. I flew down the river effortlessly and returned in a third of the time it had taken me to go upstream. Sometimes life is like this. Not often, but sometimes. Sometimes, one's dear Dad doesn't have pneumonia, and sometimes dear Mom is not developing a sore throat that may portend her own illness creeping in. Sometimes, one's husband doesn't have to struggle to find a job, and children do understand that some of the rules we set really are in their best interests. Sometimes...but not often, life flows downstream with a tailwind and it is all effortless.

When I returned at dinner time, Arvo was barbecuing some delectible smelling food. I was busily dealing with the backlog of the vacation week's neglected duties when he burst into the house.
"You are going to hate me," he said, "I just invited the new neighbor to dinner."
I glanced around the house- not a disaster zone, but not visitor clean.
"What will we feed her besides the meat?" I asked.
We had not done much shopping upon return from vacation yet.
"I don't know," he said.
I flew into action, made a salad, and microwaved some potatoes while Arvo scrubbed the back deck table.
"Do we have anything for dessert?" he asked, as I laid out the spotted, not quite clean placemats, thinking the plates would cover the spots.
"Freeze pops," I said.
The new neighbor knocked. We let her in, and opened the bottle of wine Matt had brought back from his Mexico honeymoon for us. Our neighbor was having a rough time, had been living with friends for 6 months in the midst of an unhappy divorce. All she currently had in her new house was a bed. She needed to do some work inside before she could move anything else in. She was tired of living with others. She wanted to be in her own home again, so with just her bed and her dog, she was slowly cleaning and readying her house. She had spent the day trimming the neglected trees in the back yard, and was tired.
"I didn't even have anything to bring over to offer you with dinner," she apologized.
"That's ok," I laughed, "All we have to offer you for dessert are freeze pops."

It was a wonderful evening. The flies were a little more numerous than I would have liked, but she is a lovely woman and I think we filled a real need for her with our thrown together meal and spotted placemats. I don't think she noticed the stains. I think she was just grateful for a place to settle among potential new friends and eat something that wasn't take-out.

 I have to admit, I would not have extended the invitation. I was too tired, and the house not in the condition I wanted a new neighbor to think I lived, and the placemats were not washed, and we didn't have anything ready to offer for dinner except the grilled meat. I am happy that my husband extended hospitality and kindness, however. Once we sat down together, it was like kayaking downstream with a tailwind.

John 4:34-36

   ³⁴ “My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. ³⁵ Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. ³⁶ Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together.

The Spirit of the Law

"I just have two rules," I told the kids, as Asherel and her friends, Josh and Emma, tied their kayaks to the reeds at our favorite swimming sandbar, "No diving- always hit the water feet first. Secondly, when you take off your life jackets, or put down your paddles, be sure everything goes in the boat. When they release the dam water, the water level rises and if it is on the sandbar, it will float away."
The kids all nodded.
"I am just going to kayak along the shore line, but I will always be in sight," I told them.

So, any of you who have kids know what happened next. First, I slid quietly up one shore across from them, and right away noticed they were skim boarding on the sandbar, and there were two life jackets on the sandbar, in the shallow water. I kayaked back.
"Remember rule number two. Nothing can be out of the boat or it will float away," I admonished.
Then I kayaked away up the other shore, but heard Josh say to Emma, as he was teaching her to skim board, "Have you ever had stitches?"
"No," said Emma.
"Then you have not really lived!" cried Josh.

I stayed close, watching them for a while. They seemed to be safe, so I circled in larger circles, keeping them in my sights, but loving the peace and beauty of the river shores. I saw a Great Blue Heron trying to remain hidden in the shore reeds. Then I heard a bird screeching and noticed a huge Bald Eagle in the top of a dead tree. At least I think it was a Bald Eagle. It had a white head. It was calling to another large bird swooping in the sky nearby. Then the eagle flapped enormous wings and began to circle with the other bird. They flew in tandem, in an elaborate aerial dance. Swooping, rising, turning, flapping all in synchrony. And then in the distance, the coordinated flight ended and they flew in separate directions. I sighed, filled with the peace and joy of it all.

I glanced back at the kids. They had overturned one kayak and were standing on it in the deeper water. I noticed with satisfaction that all the lifejackets and oars were inside the other boats. Rule number two was being followed. However, then I saw my daughter leap into the air and do a flip. She had never done a flip, to the best of my knowledge. I realized that I had not been explicit enough with Rule number one. Technically, if a flip is done correctly, one does indeed hit the water feet first, but otherwise, it has all the dangers of a severed vertebrae as the neck hits submerged logs as diving would. These are good kids, I thought as I paddled quickly over. I was sure that they had discussed Rule Number One before the three of them began flipping off the boat.
I am certain this is how the conversation went:
Josh: "Can you do a flip, Asherel?"
Asherel: "No, but I've never tried."
Josh: "Then you haven't lived!"
Emma: "Josh, I know what you are thinking. What about Rule #1?"
Josh: "Let's examine that. As you recall, the rule was we must enter the water feet first, correct?"
Girls: "Correct."
Josh: "When one does a properly executed flip, you enter the water feet first."
Asherel: "What if you do an improperly executed flip?"
Josh:  " We will only do properly executed flips."
Emma: "I'm not sure this is following the spirit of the law...."
Josh: "The spirit of the law involves keeping us safe and returning us whole to our parents, correct?"
Girls: "Correct."
Josh: "Someone who has never done a flip is not returning whole to her parent. She is but a shell of what a teenager should be, thus, it is only by doing the flip that we are following the full spirit of Rule #1."

As I was kayaking over, I was pretty sure the conversation I imagined had been accurate. Asherel later verified I had been correct. Josh is one of my favorite people on earth, but one must consider all wiggle room in setting rules with Josh. His parents must collapse at the end of the day. However, as I kayaked over,  I saw all three of them doing perfect flips. Asherel had mentioned earlier in the summer she wished she could do a flip. I remembered doing flips into swimming pools as a child, and feeling that if I could master a flip, I could conquer the world.
"Oh Lord," I prayed as I kayaked near, "Give me the right heart, the right words."

I pulled up to the kids.
"Ok, I am sure you all discussed this and decided that flips were ok, since you are entering the water feet first....right?"
They all nodded and waited for me to handcuff them and throw them in the boat and drag them back in a floating prisoner line.
"Ok, then here is the new rule. Before flipping, I want one of you to check underwater in the area where the kid is flipping into and make sure there are no submerged logs. Secondly, I want you all to tell your parents when I bring you home with a broken neck that it is not my fault."
"Deal!" they cried.
"And be sure you are only flipping in water over your head."

I kayaked off again, but not quite as far, and bobbed under the shade of an overhanging tree, watching them.  A whole flotilla of other kayakers had now docked at the sandbar, and other kids had flipped their kayaks over and were doing flips into the river.

I thought about laws and rules. I am a rule bound person. I know rules are in place to protect us, but rules can also become the source of life, rather than the appropriate containment of life. I don't think rules are made to be broken, but I do think sometimes rules strangle what they are meant to save.  Jesus recognized that when He was accused of breaking the sabbath to gather corn from a field to feed Himself and His disciples on the Sabbath.
"The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath," He explained to those who would hold the Rule more holy than the life the rule was made to honor and protect.

Being a parent is not easy. No child would survive without parental rules. But sometimes......
I watched my daughter do a back flip and found it more awe inspiring than the eagle circling heaven.

Romans 7:
⁶ But now, by dying to what once bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit, and not in the old way of the written code.

Mark 2:26-28

²⁶ In the days of Abiathar the high priest, he entered the house of God and ate the consecrated bread, which is lawful only for priests to eat. And he also gave some to his companions.”
 ²⁷ Then he said to them, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. ²⁸ So the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.”

Why aren't the fish dead?

Having spent the morning working on my 93 year old friend's poetry book, editing, designing the cover, and setting up his account, I took Asherel and her friend Alex kayaking in the afternoon. We had a window of three hours before thunderstorms were due.

We kayaked to a rock in the middle of the lake. Undeterred by the goose poop all over the rock, the girls clambered up it's slimy sides and spent two hours leaping into the lake. I circled around them in my kayak, ready if need be to jump in and try to recover the body. I kept one wary eye on the sky. As the clouds began to roll in, I warned them it was time to go.

I got the predictable response when children are risking life and limb for thrills that cut their parents' lives in half.
"Awwwww, do we have to?"
"Yes, the thunderstorm is due by 5."
"But the sky still has blue in it."
There was a distant rumble.
"That was a car back-firing," said Asherel.
Mind you, we were in the middle of the lake, which bordered a deserted peninsula spit of land and nature preserve.
"Cars back firing sound like gunshots," said Alex, "I don't think that is what it was."
"Girls, time to go NOW. We don't want to be on the lake in a thunderstorm."
They did comply, though not with the quick and cheerful joy I might have hoped for. I heard another rumble as we raced back to shore.
"Oh Mom," said Asherel, "If it was so dangerous being on the water when lightning strikes, why aren't all the fish dead?"

Now, I hate to admit it, but I wasn't sure why the fish weren't all dead. So, during my sleepless 3 a.m. rendezvous with my conscience, I looked that up on the internet. I learned many interesting facts about lightning and discovered that we were not the only people who didn't know, and wondered why all the fish weren't dead.

Fish do indeed die when lightning strikes the water, but only the unlucky few that are swimming near or on the surface. It seems that lightning likes to hit the surface but it can't go very deep. Instead, it fans out across the surface. The sites I read didn't say how far it fans out, but anything in its path will be not so much electrocuted as "boiled" alive. That sounds fun!  Scuba divers, if they go down deep enough, are safe in a lightning storm. Snorkelers are not. And those stuck in small boats are in a particularly vulnerable situation. The lightning will strike the highest point in the immediate vicinity, and if you are in a boat on a body of water, that would be you. You will be fried. Your only defense is to huddle in the middle of the boat and don't touch any surface (thus quickly learn to self elevate), and then clasp your hands tightly together, and pray.

Furthermore, I learned, the most dangerous times are as the storm is rolling in, and as much as half an hour later. That is because no one is expecting lightning when the storm seems far off, but lightning can strike 20 miles from the thundercloud! Lightning can strike from a completely blue, cloudless sky if there is a storm twenty miles away.

Sometimes I wonder how any of us survive to adulthood. In the end, I thought about God and His marvelous creation. His creation is fearfully and wonderfully made, and every hair on our head is numbered....but still, He does subject us to many horrible and fearsome earth situations. In the end, I have to conclude the fish aren't all dead because that is the way God wants it.

Joshua 9:25
²⁵ We are now in your hands. Do to us whatever seems good and right to you.

Triumph

The sandbar where we kayak so Asherel and friends can swim has become my social outlet, my coffee klatch, without the coffee. Whenever we anchor for very long at the sandbar, I meet fellow kayakers and eventually, they all have a story to tell. I am always curious to see what person God floats in my path. Will I be blessed, or happy day of happy day, be a blessing?

The first to float in my world that afternoon was a woman with two young boys. I was sitting in the water, watching Asherel and her friend swim. The lady docked at the sandbar, and instantly the two young boys decided they wanted to take the kayak out alone. (She had been in a double kayak with the less skilled boy.) They pushed off into the channel. I had noticed the current getting stronger, which happens when the dam water upriver is released. Sometimes the current is very strong then. I could see the kayak caught in the flow, and begin to move swiftly. The two boys began to paddle, but the kayak moved away, with the current. The lady stood up and looked poised to run, but still she waited, watching.

I watched too. I would not have waited, had they been my boys. But I knew I was a strong kayaker with a tow rope, and if needed, I could rescue the boys. She moved forward, tense, and then said to me, "I am wrestling here.... I need to decide when to go in after them."
"Well," I said, "I did meet a kayak instructor here last time who said one of his group was playing in the water when they released the dam water, and the current carried him all the way to that bridge." I waved in the distance, where the freeway crossed over the Catawba River.
She watched the boys, still fighting the current, but now at least inching back to the very shallow water.
"They are in no danger," I told her, "I mean you may have to tow them back but they have their life jackets."
I admired her restraint...or perhaps it was foolishness. I would have long ago been dragging those kids back to shore.

But then she said something that really struck me.
"This is the first thing my son has ever felt confident about. He is a strong kayaker for someone his age. He is so shy and timid, and won't ever try anything, but I finally got him to try this, and he loves it. If I rescue him now, I am afraid he will lose that."
I sat in the water, watching the struggle of the two boys against the current. I was as tense as she was now, willing and praying those boys to overcome the river. Slowly, they began to paddle the boat back towards us. The river tugged and they tugged back, and finally, triumphantly, they pulled back to the sand bar. The mother and I both exhaled, and I wished I had met her and had this discussion when my children were babies.

I have a well developed ability to envision the worst that can happen. I don't know if that is because of my training as an Occupational Therapist where I treated quadriplegics who one day were diving and the next moment paralyzed for life, but I find it very hard to let best case scenarios play themselves out.

I remember Jonah's argument against the Ninevites, where God had commanded him to go. The Ninevites hated Jonah's people, they would never listen to him, and may indeed just end up killing him. Yet God is always in the business of strengthening us by forcing us to confront the situations we can't imagine enduring, can't imagine surviving. Sometimes, we don't, but the reward is still there. We just don't necessarily collect it before shuffling off this mortal coil. But sometimes, even here on earth, even when we are young and unskilled, and still stumbling towards maturity, sometimes even then we manage to overcome the current and plant our feet on solid ground again, and  know what it is to triumph.

"See Mom," called the boy, "I'm a good kayaker."
"Yes you are," agreed his mother, unclenching her hands.

Jeremiah 1:19
¹⁹ They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the LORD.

A True Peer

Our little goodwill ambassador sat in the kayak with her lopsided ears perked forward. People in other kayaks floated by and everyone smiled. There is something about a dog in a boat that produces happiness. You don't often see dogs in kayaks. We headed to our favorite swimming sandbar with Honeybun perched in front. One small boy and his mother bobbed on their kayaks by the sandbar where we always moor.

"I am entirely waterproof," said the boy, "From head to toe everything I am wearing is waterproof."
"That's good since you are in the water," I said. I could tell within 3 words from his mouth that this child was a genius, and probably had some extra labels thrown in as well. As an Occupational Therapist in my life before homeschooling, I had worked with many gifted children with varying disabilities, including autism and Aspergers- the spectrum of autism of the genius with few social skills. Besides that, having a genius as an oldest son, my radar for genius is finely tuned. Even the cadence of speech seems to give them away. There are a whole host of issues with any difference in intellect from the norm. I knew it from my work, and I knew it from my life with my own son. Much of it is wonderful, but much of it is very, very hard.

"And would you like to see my shell I found? It has shades of purple in it," said the boy.
"I'd love to," I said, taking the shell from his outstretched hand.
Then he turned and disappeared under water and splashed off to pet Honeybun.

His mom began chatting with me, and soon was telling me her woes about finding a school that fit the needs of her son.
"He was just diagnosed with Aspergers," she said. I could see she was still reeling from that news.
"Is it hard to find him friends?" I asked.
She nodded vigorously, "I thought in a smaller school setting he might do better."
"Well, I have a son who is now graduated from college, but he is a genius, and finding true peers for him was one of the hardest parts of growing up for him. I prayed and prayed about it, and he always managed to have one good friend nearby. If you can help him find one really good friend he can relate to, it might help him alot. How old is he?"
"Nine years old today!" she said, smiling at her son. It spoke volumes that this 9 year old was celebrating his birthday without a friend in sight....just him and his mom.

"Did your son go to college....graduate.....and now.....Is he ok now?"
I could hear the depth of worry in this devoted mother's voice, starting off this uncharted journey with a 9 year old that most people didn't understand, and was already on a road to isolation.
"Yes," I said, "And in college he did find true peers. He loved it there. He works in a business he helped start, and has a wonderful girl friend. He is happy now and doing well."
"I am so happy to hear that," she said, sighing, "It gives me hope."
"Try to find him a friend," I encouraged her, "Someone of his intellect who accepts him. Just one is enough."

We talked quite a while, and then she told the boy it was time to head back. Without a moment's hesitation the boy pulled his kayak off the sandbar, settled in place, and headed down stream.
"Well??? " he called back to his mother, "You said it was time to go. I am going."
She stopped her chatting with me abruptly and said, "He's always so literal."
I watched them kayak away, and said a little prayer for the journey of joy and heartache those two were on.

I remember hearing a show on the radio once of a mother with a genius child who was sadly telling the Christian host, "I just want him to have a friend."
"He always has a friend in Jesus," said the host gently.
"I was hoping for someone closer to his age," said the mother.

I suspect Jesus would be hoping for the same.

Honeybun sat back in the kayak as we started back upriver to our car. Invariably, every kayaker that passed us said, "Oh look! There's a dog in that kayak!"  Asherel was paddling a little slower against the current than she had on the downriver trip earlier. Honeybun wriggled and seemed anxious to get back to fresh cold water and dogfood and AC.
Being different can be a good thing....but sometimes there are spots of upstream struggle along the way.

Romans 15:
 ³⁰ I urge you, brothers and sisters, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me.

In the River

There was a dead body along the very same section of the very same river we kayaked on the very same day we were there. The body was found, reported the newspaper, by recreational kayakers.

I put the paper down. I had just returned from that part of the Catawba. I had been largely alone for the hour I kayaked upriver. Funny, as I had been paddling, thinking how quiet and peaceful it all was, how wonderfully still and isolated, it had also flashed through my mind that it would be a good place to stash a dead body.

This body appeared to be there because it wanted to be. The corpse had been involved in a hit and run accident earlier in the day, and had been seen leaving the scene of the crime. Of course, at that point it had not yet been a corpse. An autopsy would be performed to determine cause of death,but my guess was the conscience of the man had gotten a hold of him,and he could not live with what he had done. Who knows what other demons were torturing his soul that made him throw himself in the river, the place of refuge where I go not to die, but to live!

I had gone to the river all alone, unable to entice my family to go with me. I am working on getting the e-book ready for publication as a paperback, and also working on my next book. I needed a break. So I blasted songs from my new Rodgers and Hammerstein collection on my portable CD and sang along as I drove to the river.

Once I was out of earshot of the few kayakers I saw on the river (were they the ones that discovered the corpse?), I began to sing. Softly at first, furtively glancing around to make sure that no one but the crows were listening and then began belting out such classics as "Can't help lovin that man of mine," and "We kiss in the shadows". I glided along, feeling my mood rise with each dip of the oar. I could almost see Asherel rolling her eyes and wincing as I screeched to the high notes. I saw a bald eagle fly right over me, and no one told me, "That's not a bald eagle; it's too small."

Once home, refreshed and re-spirited, I thought about the poor corpse. Nothing is ever so bad that it is worth sullying the waters of such a beautiful river with something so tragic as a suicide. There is always the potential for change, the chance for redemption, the promise of tomorrow. It is the message of the Gospel- we are all broken, we are all headed for destruction, but it doesn't have to be the end of the story. Our loving God is waiting at the end of the river, and He is probably even singing along quietly with us.

Isaiah 66:12 NIV

For this is what the Lord says:
"I will extend peace to her like a river,
and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream;

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Against the Current

I always try to arrange our kayak adventures with friends such that if we are on the Catawba River, we time any upstream returns to dock such that the current is not amplified by the daily dam water flow release. When the dam is opened, the current becomes very strong, the water level rises, and those of us in the otherwise slow but steady inflatables now are slower and unsteady. Inflatables, being light and airy like marshmallow puffs, do not do super well in strong winds, or strong currents.

So the four of us were playing in the river and I was just about to warn them we had better head back upstream now, when Danielle pointed at the visibly rushing water swirling by.
"I think they opened the dam."

It was only 3 pm, and I had been told the dam is opened around 3:30.  I guess from now on I better head back at 2. Danielle and Asherel on the hard shell kayaks did fine, but Ben and I were straining like draft horses pulling a tank in our inflatables. It was slow and exhausting going. The last few hundred feet, Ben said, "I can't do it."
"You have to do it, Ben, " I warned, "You stop paddling now, you will just be swept back down the river."
We finally rounded the corner to our dock, where we saw Danielle and Asherel lying on their backs on shore, watching the birds fly overhead.

Fortunately, we had had enough fun up to that point that I think Ben still thought it was worth accompanying us that day.  But I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt it is more fun to paddle downstream than upstream. Normally the section we paddle is calm, and the current is barely noticeable,  but it cannot escape notice when the dam is opened.

As always, I think God was sending me a little reminder. There are times when despite our best preparation and organization, the dams in life open early, and we find ourselves struggling upstream against an unbearable current. The temptation is to stop paddling, stop trying, give up and cry and suck our thumb. But if we do that, we get swept back to places we are no longer supposed to be. The only hope of reaching shore is to just soldier on, ignore as best as possible the aching muscles, the growing thirst, and the rumbling stomach. And it is also not wise to watch the progress as we inch our way up the shore. It is best to keep our eyes on the goal and keep paddling as steadily as we can, however slowly. Perhaps one of the greatest discouragements is to compare our progress with that of travelers in different boats. Everyone reaches the shore at different times depending on a whole host of factors. We will reach the shore when we get there in the boat we began our journey. Wishing we were in a different boat only causes envy and despair on top of weariness. The parallel to life is hard to miss.

As we pulled into shore and with our last ounce of energy dragged our boats ashore, I looked up at the sky.
"A bald eagle!" I cried.
"Yep," said Danielle, "It sure looks like one. It has a white head."
"It's too small," said Ben.
I ignored him. I had just made it to shore and the eagle was my reward.

Jonah 2:3-6 NIV
You hurled me into the depths,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me. I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.' The engulfing waters threatened me,
the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head. To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath barred me in forever.
But you, Lord my God,
brought my life up from the pit.

The Kayak I Don't Love

I am a walking time bomb. My molar fillings are 50 years old. They will not last much longer. So every dentist visit I live in dread of the news that they will all need to be replaced. Nice as my dentist is as a human being, I hate visiting him. But yesterday, I dragged myself step by wretched step to his office for my cleaning appointment. I knew it was going to hurt...it always does. I have a couple of spots with receeding gums and I shoot through the roof when they try to scrape any tartar off those areas. I warn them, and they put the numbing gel on, but it only takes the edge off. It still hurts. And I feel bad that I react because the hygienist always is so apologetic. I wish pain were more easily contained.

I don't handle pain or really any stress well. Some people, like my son Anders barely notice when they are hurt. When he was a little boy, he once sliced his foot open to the point where it required ten stitches. He came toddling over to me and said, "Mommy, I think I might have hurt my foot."  Might have? I almost passed out just looking at it, let alone living it.

But as I tried to engage the hygienist in conversation to delay the inevitable, I found out she was a fellow Christian and her goal in life was to spread encouragement and joy. Despite the pain, I found myself glad that she was chattering away to me with her fingers in my mouth. As I left, shaky but alive, I wondered what it is about some people that they just glow with acceptance of me. Maybe it is just that she doesn't know me. Still, it is a quality I long to hold within myself. I don't know if one cultivates that kind of character, or if it just flows more easily out of some people. If I could buy it and pour it into my soul, I would. But I suspect it is one of those things you can't manufacture.

After the dentist appointment, we took our beloved friend Polly and her visiting three grandchildren kayaking. I brought all my kayaks, and assigned poor grandson Nicholas the kayak "I don't love."
I have a total of 6 kayaks, though 2 belong to Matt and his new wife. Two are hard shell kayaks that we put on top of the car at much expense to my vertebrae. The rest fit inside the car when deflated. 3 are the fantastic inflatable ones that are very well made and a joy to paddle, and one is the kayak I don't love. The kayak I don't love is actually a two person kayak and is really too small for any but the smallest of two people, but too big for any but the biggest of one people. Since Nicholas at age 16 was the biggest of us, he was given the kayak I don't love.
"Why don't you love it?"
"You'll see."

So the 6 of us set forth, like a gaggle of geese floating off on our kayaks. I had figured these kids would last maybe forty minutes. Two hours later, we had kayaked to a sandy shore and jumped off a dock, kayaked to two enormous rocks sticking up out of the middle of the lake and moored there, played like otters scampering and leaping from the rock, and kayaked back exchanging stories of lives that intersected just for a moment at this little point in time. Nicholas led the pack most of the way in the kayak I don't love.

They were delightful kids- friendly, smart, polite, and found joy in every part of our lake journey. They clearly loved and respected Grandma Polly, and her lovely face sparkled with the delight of these precious souls in her presence. I had one of the nicest afternoons I had had in a long time just being in the presence of people who appreciated simple pleasures of life, and of each other.

As I deflated the kayaks and rolled them up to pack them in the car, I carried the kayak I now loved with a little more respect.

Romans 15:7
 ⁷ Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.

Wobbly Weebles

Consumed with all the work surrounding my book publication, our summer that was meant to be calm and fun was taking a disturbing turn. So I carved out a few hours each afternoon this week for us to do something happy, something summery. Yesterday we snatched two of Asherel's friends and scurried off to Lake Wylie. It was supposed to be a record hot day, around 104 or so heat index. It was like stepping outside onto the surface of pizza fresh from the oven. Nonetheless, armed with water, kayaks, and skimboards, we headed off to Ebenezer Park. From the park we can kayak just a few minutes across to a little island. We usually dock at the island and the kids swim while I kayak along the shore and pretend I'm Gilligan from that old TV show Gilligan's Island, forced to survive having shipwrecked on this distant and unexplored land. I have it a little easier than Gilligan since I have a smart phone with which I can google the nearest take-out restaurant.

Before leaving, my friend Nicole suggested I develop a website for my author and book information. Several people suggested I do this, so I knew I should. One person told me it needed to be professional....not like my blog. Smarting a little from that compliment, I reeled into the world of web site development. As though figuring how to publish and market a book were not taxing enough on a brain accustomed to daydreaming about how to survive when shipwrecked on islands 500 feet from the mainland, I now applied its remaining 4 brain cells to this new task.  I found a free web host, and prayed that it was not riddled with viruses that would noodle their way into my hard drive. I was very pleased with myself as I filled out the necessary forms, gave myself a domain name (though I had to run and ask Arvo- "Before I do this....what exactly is a domain name?"), and then accepted their terms. Pushing the button "Accept terms" is as terrifying as "submit" which I discussed in yesterday's post. However, these terms were brief and I had no obligation to do much of anything, as far as I could tell, and those are the kinds of terms I can most readily accept. But then when I tried to do anything on my new website, I could not figure out how to even put my name on it.

Nicole wrote and offered to help. She told me while I was out kayaking to think of font style, colors, and content I wanted on my web page.
"Just make it green," I advised, "That's my favorite color."
That gives you a proper sense of how well equipped I was to tackle web development.

So off we went into the leaden heat. We brought Josh with us, which guaranteed that we would have nonstop entertainment of one type or another. While Alex and Asherel submerged themselves up to their eyeballs in the cooling water, Josh ran up and down the shore for two hours skim-boarding.
"Come on Asherel, Alex! Ready, this is all you do, drop the board, run, jump on.....see? It's easy. Now ready, GO!"
Occasionally, Asherel would make feeble attempts to follow the steps up to the point she was to leap on the board and skim, but usually opted out of that part.
I kayaked back and forth off shore from them, ready to leap in should there be any need to dial 911. The only emergency was when Josh got a little cut in his foot, and then a little pebble embedded itself in his cut. While I sat nearby, he gouged the pebble out, giving me step by step analysis of the treatment procedure, and then ripped the flap of damaged skin off.
"There!" he said, and was back to his skim boarding. I admire someone who knows what needs to be done, and just does it without flinching. The girls continued to submerge like hippos hiding from the African sun. Josh continued to beg and cajole and demonstrate how easy it was.
Finally Josh called out, "Come on Asherel- you are making me feel bad that I am so good!"

I returned the kids largely in one piece, minus a small flap of skin on one, to their parents, and settled back in front of the computer to have another go at my web page. My friend had sent me a new web hosting server and suggested I try working a web page from that host. I was happy to take her advice for two reasons:
1. She had developed web pages before and was knowledgable, and I was not, and
2. The web host was called "weebly" and my web page would be vickykaseorg.weebly.com . Who could pass up a name like that? Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. 

With that encouraging refrain in my head, I followed the directions, and downloaded 4 pictures successfully and then put a page of text on my new web page. It looked horrible and crowded, and I could not for the life of me figure out how to make the paragraph stay in a nice little contained space instead of sprawling like spilled milk across my page. And most disturbing was when I showed the site in progress to Nicole, she told me the author photo looked like I was wearing no pants. I was kneeling beside Honeybun in that photo, and since my shorts didn't show, just my huge foreshortened knees, I could see where one might think that. This would not have been at all a big deal....it would be easy enough to change the web page photo....but it was also the photo on the back of my new book....the proof of which was coming tomorrow. Since nudity is not the message I am hoping my book will convey, I saw that there were already going to have to be changes to my book, and publication date was going to be delayed even further. Unlike Josh, I was not so good at this that I was making my friends look bad. And I had unhappy thoughts that in this case, the weeble might very well fall down.

Nicole quickly discerned that my skills were not finely honed in this area, and offered to work with the site a little and see what she could do. An hour later she sent me a beautiful, elegant web page.
 It was her first stab at it, and "not even close" she said, but I could have an idea of what was needed.
And I did now have an idea of what was needed....someone other than me doing it is what was needed. I was like the girls submerged in the water watching the master skim board past me. No one was in any danger of feeling bad because I was so good.

But I also remembered Josh ripping that piece of skin off without a moment's hesitation and I told Nicole that it was gorgeous, a wondrous start of my web page, and I would play with it today to add the necessary text. I didn't know how to train a dog with intense fear aggression when I started with Honeybun, but Nicole helped me then as well, and in the end, we succeeded. I didn't know how to write a book or try to publish it, but several agents offered free advice, and in the end, we succeeded. I didn't know how to walk at one time,  but my mother held my hands and supported my first few steps, and in the end we succeeded.

Life is too hard. Way too hard. But fortunately, I am not all alone on the island. While daydreaming about being all on my own trying to tackle the trauma of survival on a distant island, I was surrounded by friends willing to put themselves out on my behalf.  I think there is no better expression of God's spirit within us and around us.  Wobbling, I signed back into my weeble account.

Exodus 23:4-6

 ⁴ “If you come across your enemy’s ox or donkey wandering off, be sure to return it. ⁵ If you see the donkey of someone who hates you fallen down under its load, do not leave it there; be sure you help them with it.

Strangers

The lady had to be at least 60, and yet  she pulled her kayak out of the lake,  dragged it to her car, and singlehandedly hoisted it atop the roof.
I was pumping up my 12 pound inflatable kayak with my nifty little foot pump. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the lady strapped the kayak down, tightening the buckles while varicose veins popped out against her sun damaged arms. I felt inexplicably silly standing there with my rubber boat slowly expanding under the patient pumping of my foot.

"How much does that weigh?" I asked. Her skin was bronzed to an unhealthy leathery tan by the sun. This was someone who was not well acquainted with Coppertone.
"28 pounds," she said.
"Wow, that's pretty amazing that you can handle that yourself."
"I brought men with me to help before," she said, "Bunch of wimps. I ended up doing it myself anyway."
She pointed to the two kayaks on the roof of my van.
"Who got those up there?"
"Oh my daughter and I, but we nearly killed ourselves doing it. It's hard with such a tall roof. That's why I use my inflatable when I go alone."
We chatted a little longer and as I carried my kayak to the lake, she called out, "Someone know you are out here?"
"Yes, thanks," I said, touched that a total stranger would care enough to be sure I had exercised proper safety caution. (which I had....but only as an afterthought.)

I had sent my announcement about my book publishing that morning to the many agents who had read it, given wonderful feedback, encouraged me, but in the end decided they couldn't take a chance on an unknown new writer. They wrote back, sounding truly delighted for me.
"You go girl!" wrote one.
"I love happy endings!" wrote another.
"Great marketing!" wrote a third.
All strangers. All in their own way cheering on a fellow co-conspirator in the mystery of life.

As I kayaked, I wondered why the lake was empty. It was hot and muggy, but it was a Saturday afternoon. I passed a few people on their docks, sitting in the shade of an umbrella. Children were jumping from the back of a boat at one dock, trying to touch an American flag fluttering from the dock as they leaped into the air.
They waved, and we all agreed it was hot hot hot.

I thought of Honeybun, our little dog and heroine of my book, as I kayaked along the shore of the silvery lake. I was a stranger when she first saw me. And she had run from others who had tried to help her. For whatever reason, she had let me approach, and tolerated a stranger's hand upon her, a stranger's offering of a drink of water on a similarly blistering hot day.

A vet who had never met me, a total stranger, offered to look over the abandoned dog for free, and split the cost of a heartworm test with me. A total stranger saw my internet posting of Honeybun and offered a list of trainers that might help me with her impossible issues. And a total stranger emailed me and said if I was willing to save the dog, she would help....for free.

We are all sojourners at one time or another, all strangers in a foreign land at some point in our life. Some of us feel like strangers no matter how long we have known those around us. But sometimes strangers make marks in our lives that even we don't recognize are lasting, with eternal repercussions. You just never know when someone aching for encouragement might cross your path, and a simple word of reassurance, of kindness, of caring might be a sip of water to a dehydrated spirit.

I love how the Bible reminds us to not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing, we may be entertaining angels unawares. I am pretty sure I have been in the company of angels more times than not. 

As I kayaked around the bend from the parking lot, I glanced back. The lady with the kayak now firmly tied to her car stood on the shore, watching me as I crossed to the open water.

Hebrews 13

 ¹ Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. ² Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. ³ Continue to remember those in prison as if you were together with them in prison, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.

You are Mine

For about two hours, I stared at the same image on the computer. There it was, after three years of working towards this end, my book was on Amazon, with my name beside the word Author. Within minutes of it appearing on the Amazon e-book store, several copies had sold. And no, I wasn't the sole customer. I only bought one copy.

When I told the friend who had been a huge part of the story, the rescue farm volunteer who had helped me with our vicious dog, she told me, "See? You want to get something done, you do it yourself."
That was what I had learned in rescuing the dog, and it was what I discovered in publishing my book.

I spent the morning reading a second time the agreement between me and the publisher, and then spent a few hours getting the book uploaded and ready. After a year of writing and two years of peddling it to agents hesitant to let a nobody in the door, my book was published. I was a published author, a dream I had nurtured since writing in my dairies at age 5.

To celebrate, we invited Asherel's friend Alex kayaking with us, and took off to a wonderful section of Lake Wylie.  It is a favorite kayak place. We kayak from the shore to a little sandy beach island and swim off the island. Right before  I walked out the door, I got some very bad news. It is not insurmountable, but it was bad enough to take my breath away. I left for kayaking as the girls chattered happily with one side of my face dancing with joy over the book, and the other side struggling not to slide off into my feet in despair.

As soon as we unloaded the boats with only a minor ripping of some crucial back muscles, the sky clouded over. We zipped out to the island but I kept a wary eye on the sky. It had the dark purply color tinged with green that means massive thunderstorms are hiding nearby. We squeezed out one and a half hours of swimming at the island, and the rain started.
"I think we better head back," I said.
Then the deluge started. Alex stretched out her arms and lifted her face to the pounding rain.
"I love the rain," she cried, her kayak bouncing on the waves, while the rain fell so thickly that she was obscured in grey opaque sheets of water.

That image described my day. My beloved kayak bobbing on waves, gloriously gliding on the beautiful lake,  ....and the raging storm closing in on me. Delight and Despair all in a single moment. Victory and Defeat. Hope and Worry.

As we raced to shore, I heard that little whisper in my soul that sustains me when I threaten to crumple.
"I know what I'm doing....," He said.
"You do?" I answered, "I mean, you DO!  But I don't, and sometimes that makes it hard."
"If you can trust me in the little things, you can trust me in the big ones," He reminded.
I let the rain beat that message into my pores.

When I got home, I gazed another few hours at the Amazon site with my book on it, and my name beside the word Author.  It was mine, that book that could be viewed by millions was my book, written by my hand, of my experiences. I felt such pride and love for my little book that I could hardly contain myself. And then the very bad news came tumbling back into my thoughts.

"And you are mine," said the still, quiet voice, "Trust me."

http://www.amazon.com/Im-Listening-Broken-Ear-ebook/dp/B005BRF2UU/ref=sr_1_fkmr1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1310165479&sr=8-1-fkmr1
kindle edition but kindle app can be downloaded to any smart phone, ipod, ipad, iphone, MAC or PC, or reading device.

Ephesians 3: 20-21
²⁰ Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, ²¹ to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

Untying the tether

When I got home from the glorious wedding, the least favorite part of any journey awaited. The unpacking. I hate the unpacking so much that I am almost willing to just throw all the unpacked suitcases in the trash and begin the needed decluttering of our home. But instead, I began the rather depressing task of putting away the 95% clean items I packed and never needed, and the 5% that had to go in the wash which were all I needed to pack in the first place. As this always happens, you would think I'd learn, but no, "Be prepared" is one of my guiding principles and I pack accordingly. I thought of how my son, Matt and Karissa were now off to the honeymoon, to a new life, and I had to try to not interfere, ever. I wasn't even their Facebook friends, though I asked them a few weeks ago if I could be. They never answered. It is fine, I thought, it is the lot of mothers.

As I unpacked, I reflected on some of the highlights of the week. One of the unexpected joys had been towing my niece Caroline in a kayak.  At age 5, she was too young to paddle a kayak alone and I had no tandem kayaks. She watched the others from shore as we left on our kayak jaunts on Smith Mountain Lake, and told me one morning as she walked with me, "I'd like to go in a boat."  I realized that perhaps I could tow her in a kayak tied to mine, at least a little ways. I gave her a paddle and some lessons, and off we went. As it turned out, it was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be and Caroline became my faithful kayak buddy the whole week. We were able to kayak far and long. I gave her a duck caller we keep stashed with the kayak wet bags, and she would happily honk at geese as we chased them across the lake. Sometimes she would paddle. Often she would rest. On our last day of kayaking, she told me she was tired, and at first didn't think she would accompany me. Then, she changed her mind, and at the last moment, decided she would go. She never dipped her paddle in the lake. Instead she lay down in the kayak and I towed her around the lake while she rested her head on one arm and trailed the other in the water.

It is such a picture of motherhood. There is a season when the mother is putting forth all the effort. Saying all the words the child will one day utter, modeling all the behavior the child will someday adopt, guiding in all the life skills the child will one day need. At first, the child just lays back and watches. One day she will take a paddle and occasionally offer an independent stroke of the oar. Ultimately she will captain the kayak alone. That is the day the mother unties the tether, and watches prayerfully as the child paddles to the horizon, the sun casting rays of gold and sparkle across her shoulders.

I finished unpacking, tired and a little dispirited. You know how it is after the rush of adrenalin and joy at momentous events. I went to the computer to begin downloading the hundreds of photos I had taken. As the screen lit up, there was a message from Facebook. Matthias and Karissa Kaseorg had just accepted my request to be their friend on Facebook. They had done so early the morning after the marriage. They had taken the time and effort and thought to grant me this gift of love and acceptance on the break of their first full day of married life together.

Sometimes as children first paddle to the horizon, they wave an oar in the distance, and the mother waves back.

Genesis 40:14

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

Essentials

The kids with me shot through the rapids fine, and I followed with no trouble except for momentary cardiac fibrillation. However, the double kayak in our group hit a large rock sideways and the water washed over the two novice kayakers, filling the boat, and dumping them out. The guide shot over in his kayak and told them to just float with the current keeping their feet up. I kayaked near them as they bobbed like corks in the refreshing water of the Catawba. It took the guide twenty minutes to free the boat, dump the water out, and retrieve the human corks. He lost his glasses in the process. This is why one should never kayak alone.

There were only two sets of rapids on the section we kayaked, but I am not sure I would want to do it if I were the only adult. Later as the guide was walking with me back to my car, he asked if it had been fun for someone who had as much experience as I did kayaking.
"Oh yes," I said, "I would not have wanted to do those rapids alone with the kids. I mean most of the time, nothing goes wrong...but look what happened to the tandem kayak. What if I had been alone with the kids and that happened?"
"Things can happen," he nodded.

While the kids had a great time, they all found the flat water sections somewhat dull, and wished there had been more rapids. I enjoy the thrill of not smashing my skull against the rocks, but my favorite part of kayaking is the peaceful, flat water surrounded by wildlife one might not ordinarily see from the living room recliner. That is as much excitement as I can handle. We saw several herons and osprey. Bald eagles live along the river, along with mink and foxes, but we didn't see them this trip. It was a beautiful after dinner glide down a sparkling, swift river.

Afterwards, I settled back in the car with relief. One dream fulfilled and the entire group in my charge would be returned whole to their parents. I was glad I had done it, and I was glad it was over without mishap.

Now the craziness begins. I have a room covered with all the things I need to pack for the wedding trip to Virginia Sunday. We are staying a week at a condo on a lake, and have to bring all the linens, towels, soap, toilet paper, paper towels, dishwasher liquid, laundry detergent, wedding clothes, and of course the two very large boxes of the very specific vases I picked up at the mother of the bride's request. Then, there are the 6 kayaks. 3 are single person inflatables, 1 is a tandem inflatable, and must fit in the car.The two hard shells can go on top of the car. Of course to go with the kayaks, I need to pack 7 life jackets, 7 sets of oars, an anchor, wetbags, watershoes, locks, and emergency kits. Then naturally, we need to pack games for all the cousins to play, and there is some talk of packing the Wii and the rock band guitars. This pile of necessities is now sprawled like a homicide across the floor. Shooting the rapids is child's play compared to the daunting task of fitting all this in our car.

Funny how much is needed to survive just one week away from home. When I was younger, Arvo my husband and I bicycled across the country. We carried everything we needed for three months on the back of our bikes. I still remember how I vowed that I would always remember how little I really needed, and try to live like that for the rest of my life. Moses and the Israelites traveled 40 years in the desert and all they needed, God provided. He sent manna from heaven, and when they tired of that, He sent them quail. He produced water from the rocks to quench their thirst, and parted the sea so they could journey unhindered on dry land.

I looked at the pile of essentials spewed across my floor. I remembered the peaceful flow of the river lapping at my kayak, and the osprey circling overhead, and thought of the refrain from a song we sing in church, "All we have needed, you have provided."

Deuteronomy 2:7
 ⁷ The LORD your God has blessed you in all the work of your hands. He has watched over your journey through this vast wilderness. These forty years the LORD your God has been with you, and you have not lacked anything.

the Desired Haven

"Quick! The sun is out- let's go for a bikeride."
"Wait, the sun is gone...."
"Batten the hatches! Looks like a tornado!"
"Quick! The sun is out- let's go for a bikeride."

And so it went, all Father's Day. In the end, we never did go for the Father's Day bikeride, never did get Pistachio frozen yogurt, and spent the day wondering what Mother Nature was up to. Summer in Charlotte is often like that. Late afternoon storms have a way of popping up and throwing trees around like toothpicks. In the end, we spent an uneventful day in the living room, waiting for a storm that never came.

Our 6 pm "after dinner" guided kayak trip tonight down the Catawba is going to undergo a similar scenario. Right now, thunderstorms are predicted, starting right as we are due to settle our derrieres into the kayaks. Once on the water, we don't have a lot of choice but to stay on it til we reach the take-out point 2 hours later. It is all but impossible to kayak upstream in that section of the Catawba. The river is fast, and filled with fun riffles of white water rapids. They are little ones, just class 1 rapids....or so I have been told. Having never traversed that section of the Catawba, Asherel and I are finally fulfilling a dream I have had for two years, to kayak an easy white water section near our home. But since I am not foolish, at least not this time, we are going with a paid guided group for this trip. If it doesn't kill us, we can do it again on our own. 

But those pesky thunderstorms are lurking. After our day of indecision, and finally not going on the bikeride, the thunderstorms never did materialize. We could have gone....but we chose to be safe rather than sorry. Now we are safe....and sorry. That is often the trade off.....

It seems I am often in the same dilemma as the thunderstorms. Do I stay or do I go? Do I risk the unknown and race off to a potential storm, or do I sit safe, fat, and regretful right where I am? Even my vacillating feelings over this kayak trip follow that pattern. The kayak trip is not without danger.... all one has to do is look at the three page fine print release we must sign before the guide will take charge of us. All kinds of awful things could happen.... and right on the cusp of my son's wedding day! What if I smash my face on rocks, get stuck in a copperhead nest, and subsequently have to hobble down the aisle with a ventilator strapped to my beautiful gown? It could happen....

But, I have wanted to do this trip for two years, ever since I discovered that other people have done that section regularly, and rave about it. So often, experiencing life's joy to the fullest involves taking a leap.... a leap of sanity, a leap of courage, a leap of faith. Not all things can be reasoned through with calm rational pros and cons.Sometimes one just has to throw the kayak in the water along with caution, and hang on for the sheer thrill of being carried to a place otherwise unseen.

Psalm 107:23-31
²³ Some went out on the sea in ships;
   they were merchants on the mighty waters.
²⁴ They saw the works of the LORD,
   his wonderful deeds in the deep.
²⁵ For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
   that lifted high the waves.
²⁶ They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
   in their peril their courage melted away.
²⁷ They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
   they were at their wits’ end.
²⁸ Then they cried out to the LORD in their trouble,
   and he brought them out of their distress.
²⁹ He stilled the storm to a whisper;
   the waves of the sea were hushed.
³⁰ They were glad when it grew calm,
   and he guided them to their desired haven.
³¹ Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love

Wise Scheduling

As soon as Amy's pancreatitis ordeal is over and done with, she is going to need to come help me clean out my house, I thought as I returned from the airport. I had spent the past four days helping my recuperating sister whip her house into shape in between doctor appointments and hospital stays. It was a sore disappointment to walk through the door of my own house, greeted by dust balls the size of small dinosaurs. All the papers and to-do sticky notes I had left four days ago were still there... including the one on top of the due library books I had asked to be returned to the library, requested of certain family members not to be named except under excruciating torture such as someone asking me politely.

Oh well, I sighed, at least I have my pancreas. This is a blessing for which we should all thank God on a regular basis.

I leave for my son's wedding in a week, and with the depth of all my experience and wisdom, I planned a social calendar that rivals the new Princess' of England list of engagements. Just the thing for one of the most happy and important and busy days of my life coming up! On this week that I need to be preparing to head to Virginia to be mother of the groom, I have planned a 3 hour Beatles Tribute Band night downtown on Saturday, a down-river 3 hour kayak trip for Monday, volunteer work for 5 hours on Tuesday,  a dog club awards dinner for Wednesday about an hour from us, and a hair appointment and hopeful visit to our Nursing Home friends on Thursday. So far on Friday, nothing is scheduled, but you can bet that in my Energizer Bunny mentality, it will be filled with something before noon today.

Why? Why do I do this to myself? So for everyone who is planning to ask me to do something else this week, I would just like to say NO. Except my son and his soon to be bride. Friday is all yours, my loved ones.

I wonder if God ever feels overwhelmed. If we are made in His image, then one could conclude upon viewing me at this moment that God is submerged in paperwork....along with dust and dog fur. But try as I might, I can't find a single Biblical reference to God slamming the door on His people and saying, "I am lying down now for a nap, hold all prayers til further notice." Not once. Every time one of us whiners lifts our hands to beseech that He help us out of yet another catastrophe, He is reputed to be always listening.

Sigh. Ok, who needs me Friday?

Psalm 121:2
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber

Tethered

Asherel fell on the sword for her friends....she would take the inflatable kayak so they could have the two easier to paddle hard shell ones. I love my inflatable kayak, but it is more work to paddle than the more hydrodynamic plastic shells that slice through the water.  So it was no suprise that Asherel's two friends were gradually disappearing into the sunset while Asherel paddled for all she was worth, and was exhausted in ten minutes. Since I am used to the effort involved in paddling my inflatable, I have become proficient. I stayed near her, encouraging her to keep paddling, but it was clear, her muscles were jellifying.

"Do you want me to help? I have a rope. I can pull you, but you have to keep paddling," I offered.
Relieved, she nodded, drips of sweat splashing down her nose.

So I tethered her kayak to mine and off we went. At first, I thought this wasn't too terribly hard. But soon, my arms were aching, lungs bursting. I glanced back. Asherel was leaning back in her kayak, arms nestled behind her head, possibly snoring.

"Hey!" I shouted, "This is not easy! You have to keep paddling! I can't paddle for both of us! You have to help!" And she did....for a little while. But then she would grow tired and I could tell she would take a break, while I strained to pull the weight of both inflatable kayaks.  If I had the strength of God, I could have done it, but edging towards my 55th birthday, I did not have the strength of God. I did not even have the strength of me a few years ago. However, there is a little reservoir of reserve that somehow flows when you are towing someone you love.  I let her rest, and I did all the work off and on as we headed to our swimming hole.
"Untie me now!" she called as we neared the sandbar where the kids could safely swim. I paddled slowly, a little tiredly to the sandbar, trailing behind her now as she skimmed over to her friends and they all raced into the water.

What a picture of motherhood this is!

When the kids have yet to reach their full strength, their full potential, when they are yet uncertain, flexing muscles that haven't fully developed to navigate all the channels where life may flow...parents are always floating near. And sometimes, the parents have to throw them a tow line. Sometimes the parents are even doing all the work, and wonder when the child will ever learn to pick up his own paddle. And then, when the parent is almost done in, old and weary and worn from carrying the weight of those fledglings, they decide it is time to untie the tether.


What a picture of God that is!

When we are burdened beyond what we can bear, He gathers us to Himself, and tells us we never have to go on our own strength. He never wearies, never tires, never lets the current carry us from Him unless it is what we desire.  But if we choose, we can remain, and should remain securely moored by lines of faith, prayer, and love.

"Whew!" I said, settling back in the car as we packed up all the kayaks, three hours later, "I'm exhausted! Are you all tired?"
"No!" laughed Asherel.
"No," whispered God.

Psalm 28:8-9

New International Version (NIV)

 ⁸ The LORD is the strength of his people,
   a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
⁹ Save your people and bless your inheritance;
   be their shepherd and carry them forever.

Nature that Bites

As  I pictured the monster with rows of razor teeth opening that large mouth beneath my floating death trap, I was glad that I had done one smart thing before taking off all alone on the deserted lake in my kayak. I had texted my husband to let him know where I was. The fact that Arvo never notices when he receives texts may have in the end led to my body not being found for days.

Asherel was off for the day with her friends so even she didn't know where I had headed. It was her birthday and friends were taking her to a day of fun at the White Water center. I had many errands to do in prep for the trip out to help sister Amy and then my son's upcoming wedding, but I thought I could squeeze in an hour at Lake Wylie. I brought a change of clothes so I could do the errands on the drive home.

I would smell faintly of fish and damp lake water hair, but it was a rare opportunity to be all alone doing something I love even more than raspberry cheesecake. Asherel's gifts were wrapped and waiting for her return, the birthday banner hung.... I drove with a goofy smile on my face to Lake Wylie, inflatable kayak bouncing in the back seat.

Mid week, Lake Wylie is deserted. I was the only boat on the lake. As I glided along, the only sounds were of ducks and geese and herons chanting with the rhythmic slapping of the water against the shore. I slipped into one cove and a huge flock of ducks rose into the air. I had never seen so many ducks! A heron circled above me, following me for several minutes. I was glad I was wearing my sun hat, as herons are large birds and I feared he was working on target practice.

I stayed close to shore, since it is near shore where most of the wildlife lingers. As I was cruising by a small island called Copperhead Island, I saw a head pop out of the water, a few feet from my boat. It was copper colored, with diamonds down the long back which I now saw trailed a good few feet behind the triangular, fang imbedded head. I paddled quickly a little further off shore and the snake slithered in between some shore line boulders. While still shuddering from that encounter with nature, I saw a floating log, about 3 feet long near my boat. I continued to look at it, thinking how much I love the peace and beauty of nature, when the log submerged. And did not re-emerge.  I don't know if it was an alligator, but all alone on the lake in my inflatable tooth poppable boat, I paddled like a lawn ornament in a hurricane out of the vicinity.  And I ammended my assessment of the nature that I love.... I love nature that doesn't bite.

As my pulse returned to normal, I paddled near some enormous lake mansions and thought of the latest news from dear sister Amy. After battling pancreatitis, a treatment of weeks of ice chips with only a brief interlude of a break form the hospital, she had received finally a possible cause for all this woe. The doctor suspects that the meds she is on for other issues may have precipitated the whole thing. The meds have been changed, and we are all hopeful that this very hard chapter in her life is coming to a conclusion. She had her first meal of solid food in almost 2 weeks, a feast, and her pancreas did not roll over in agony. If all continues this way, she will be discharged today, and will return for a CT scan in 8 days. At that point, if the pancreas cyst has not resolved, they will decide to drain, operate, or just leave it if it is still subsiding.

I reached my docking point with no further frightening encounters with carnivores, and drove on to my errands.

Later that day, there was a knock on the door. A neighbor stood there with a wrapped gift in his hand.
"This is from Comer," Ken said.
I looked at the gift. How had Comer, the 93 year old man with his feeble eyes, and cane, living in an assisted living center managed to get Asherel a gift, and how had he known it was her birthday?
"I took him to lunch today," said Ken, "And he wanted me to take him shopping. He said that when you and Asherel took him and Evelyn out yesterday, he remembered you mentioning it was her birthday today. He told me he would like very much if I would take him to a store where he could pick out a gift for her."
Comer can walk about a hundred feet, slowly, before he is worn out. I am sure the lunch out with Ken had done him in physically. With all the woes and worries of his life now with his wife with Alzheimers and his own failing body.....he had remembered how much a child delights in a birthday gift, and taken the painfully slow labored steps to secure one......

There are alligators that bite, and snakes that eject poison from fangs.... and that part of life seems cruel and jarring in the placid beauty of a quiet lake. But then, in counterpoint, there are herons that accompany solitary kayakers, doctors that cleverly find hope in hopeless places, and old men that remember what it is to be young and to yearn for what is yet to be. You just never know where joy may spring from, and for that reason, God compels us to not lose hope.

Job 6:11
 ¹¹ “What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
   What prospects, that I should be patient?

Job 13:15

 Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him;

An Eagle in Disguise

Record high temperatures, sizzling air that spontaneously may burst into flame at any moment. Code orange air quality which means it is highly advised that NO ONE breathe today!!!! So it seemed the perfect death defying act to go kayak, one of the most strenuous physical activities known to man. And better yet, invite my only daughter and her friend to defy the mighty greenhouse gases.

So off we oozed across the melting roadways to the Catawba River. Surprisingly, not another soul was on the river. Everyone else in all of Charlotte was in deep freezer rooms on respirators. We alone were braving the elements.  Well not quite alone. One family did pass us as we were seeking relief by swimming in the river.

"Can I swim!?" begged the little boy of his kayaking parents, seeing us cavorting like seals.
"No," said the mother, "River water is dirty and dangerous."
The three of us paused in our dunking, river water dripping down our faces. The boy gazed at us for a long time, his eyebrows slowly dripping off the edge of his face, as his kayak floated by.

Later, Asherel's friend Emma asked me, "Is it really dirty and dangerous?"
"Of course not," I said, "Germs and bacteria are necessary to toughen your immune system."

While we were hiding from the brutal sun, submerged up to our eyeballs, I spotted a large brownish bird floating on thermals in the distance. It had a white head.
"A bald eagle!" I cried, pointing. Then, there were two of them,  wings outstretched gliding across the molten air above the river.
"That's not a bald eagle," said Emma.
"It's a sea gull," said Asherel.
"Of course it is an eagle!" I countered, "What other large bird has a white head?"
"I don't know," Emma said, "But it's too small to be a bald eagle."
"Maybe it's a young one....besides I don't think it is too small."
"Young ones are all brown," she said.
For a shy kid, she sure has a lot of confidence on this, I thought.
 Emma works at the Raptor center and was not convinced.
"How much interaction do you have with the bald eagles at the Raptor Center?" I asked.
"Not much," she admitted, "They are mean."
I smiled, "Well so there you have it. You aren't around them enough to know this is clearly a bald eagle."
"It's too small," she said sweetly.

As we returned to shore, a man came running towards us, two large cameras clanging about his neck.
"I presume you are running towards us for a reason?" I said, approaching the shore.
"I am a reporter with the Charlotte Observer," he said, breathing a little heavily from the exertion in the blinding heat, "I need a picture of someone coping with the record heat wave."
Ah, so that is what we were doing! Coping!
Asherel and Emma began to glide away. I have never met anyone more camera shy.
"Sure!" I said.
I splashed some water over my head to show the proper coping attitude, he snapped some photos and then asked me how long we'd been kayaking.
"Two hours," I said, "We had the river all to ourselves. It was so peaceful and quiet. We saw a bald eagle."
"It wasn't a bald eagle," Emma murmured from a distance.
"There is a nesting pair up the river," said the reporter, "There are others that live on the Catawba now."
I suppressed a smirk in Emma's direction.

I liked the revelation that while I thought I was having the time of my life, floating in nature amongst bald eagles and herons, I was really coping. Unbeknownst to me, I had taken a lemon, and made lemonade.

I wish I could make my poor sister Amy's coping a little more pleasant....send a bald eagle to her hospital room. Her CT scan revealed she will need to wait at least til Friday before they can consider operating. Until that time, going on week number two, the only thing she can take in by mouth will be ice chips and a little water. I know that coping for her is a minute by minute ordeal right now. I am waiting to see if she thinks having me there would make the time better or worse for her. With me, one never knows.....

I suspect she feels a little like Job at this point, and it is not easy to keep smiling. All I can offer are my prayers and hope she can believe that sometimes seagulls are eagles in disguise.

James 5:11
As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.