The Day of Small Things

The little boy had been standing near, silently watching me as I labored in the sand. The sand dog was slowly taking form, more slowly than our usual family sculptures since certain unnamed members of the family were relaxing at the beach, rather than helping.

It was ok. The sand sculptures are my beach activity. I love being at the ocean, but not of the ocean. There are too many biting, stinging, sliming, and frightening creatures in the ocean to make swimming a relaxing experience for me. It would not be a vacation then...it would be more like paramilitary training camp.

So I was making my sand sculpture, happily safe from the sharks, jellyfish, blowfish, sea urchins, and genetically altered poisonous sponges. The little boy had wandered over and not even said Hi. He just watched me with big brown eyes. It became clear if there was to be any interaction, I would have to initiate it.
"Hi, do you like to build sand things?"
He nodded.
"Can tell what this is?"
"A dog."
"Yep."
More silence. As I patted the sand carefully on the dog's head, he followed me and leaned in, watching me with a serious scowl. I moved to the front paw, and he moved with me. As I crouched near, he crouched near, behind me, peering under my arm as the sand dog took shape.
"Do you want to build a sand creature?"
"It looks hard," he said.
"It's not. I'll teach you. Come over here."
We walked a few feet from my dog."
"Ok, first what do you want to build? Choose something simple, like a clam shell."
He looked at me, his face blank.
"How about a crab? They're pretty easy."
He nodded.
"Ok, first you draw an outline on the sand."
I used my sand shovel and drew the outline of a crab. He watched with furowed brow, and nodded.
I wondered where the child's mother was, and why she was letting him talk with a stranger.
"Then you dig a trench outside the outline like this and pile the sand on the shape. Later you will patt that sand smooth and in shape like you saw me do with the dog. Do you have a sand shovel?"
He nodded, looking at the crab.
I went back to work on my dog and he stood still. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mother appear with two shovels.
"Would you like me to help you build an animal?"she asked.
He nodded smiling and they hurried over to their own space of sand several yards away.

I'd been reading with Asherel about missionaries who had gone to Africa risking their lives and heads bringing the gospel to cannibals. I have never felt called to leave my own country. But I do pray every time I leave the house that God would open my eyes to the world of suffering, loneliness, and need around me and that perhaps, I could be a blessing to someone.

It seems that God has not gifted me with an ability to do large things, to do great things. But He has taught me never to despise the day of small things.

I carved the name of my book in the sand by my sculpture and wrote also, "available at amazon.com" in careful sand script. You just never know what might be used of God, I thought, glancing at the mother and boy busily building a creature in the sand together.

Zechariah 4:10 NIV

"Who dares despise the day of small things, since the seven eyes of the Lord that range throughout the earth will rejoice when they see the chosen capstone in the hand of Zerubbabel?"

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Intentional Relationships

It was clear Lucky was choking on a bone, and unless I took action, all our struggles with this stupid dog would be over. However, I leaped to my feet and asked Asherel, "Do you think the Heimlich maneuver works on dogs?"
"Try it," she said.
So I hugged the choking dog around his midsection and jerked quickly
upward. Lucky yelped and swung around ready to bite me. But he was still hacking. So I did it again. He yelped again. No bone came flying out of his mouth like it does on the cartoons, but he stopped choking. He looked miffed about the Heimlich thing.

I had time to reflect on that act of saving my dog in the wee hours of the morning as he awoke me to bark bark bark at an owl.

One night of disrupted sleep would not matter much, but I had been up almost the whole night the evening before. It was National Prayer Day, and our church had members sign up to pray for one hour for the entire Prayer Week, 24 hours a day. I had signed up for one of the less coveted times- 6 a.m.  I didn't want to set my alarm and wake Arvo when he has to be up by 7 each day, so I just set my internal clock. My internal clock, like the rest of my internal apparatus, is neurotic, however. And so every hour, on the hour, I would wake up  to see if it was 6 a.m. yet.  Since I was so tired half way through the night, I decided I better do proactive praying as long as I was awake, just in case I slept through my designated 6 a.m. time.
Some of my long hours of prayer started like this, "Dear Lord, you who know all things, know that my allotted prayer slot is 6 a.m.  However, if I sleep through that time, can you please pretend this is my 6 a.m. prayer? Maybe record it and play it back at that time to fill the gap?"  And after praying for our nation, our leaders, our world, our churches, our family, our friends, our stupid dog barking at the owl, I would fall asleep .....briefly. Then I would awaken, look at the clock, see it was not 6 a.m., and decide I better pray another proactive prayer since for sure I would miss my appointed prayer time now.

I had noticed that many of the wee morning hours were not filled when I had signed up for my 6 a.m. slot. So as I prayed, I was glad to know that in case they had remained unfilled, someone was approaching the Throne of Grace while everyone else was getting their beauty sleep. That someone continued to awaken and pray all night long, until finally I opened my eyes, and it was 6 a.m at last. I had not let my church down. I prayed for my allotted hour.

Praying all night is not as hard as you might think. When I fully commit to staying awake and not letting my mind wander, to completely give over my heart, my concerns, my praises, my thoughts to God, it seems easier to focus than when I am about to go to sleep and am saying my Goodnight prayers. The mind is a traitorous thing, and tends to wander at the first chance it gets. More than once I have started off with great intentions, "Oh Lord of Heaven and Earth, may your Name be praised...." only to meander instantly into thoughts of whether roast beef is best cooked with a foil cover or not. (By the way, I still haven't figured that one out....anyone care to comment?)

It is not that I want to take prayer casually or flippantly or distractedly. It just seems I can't help it. But I noticed this phenomenon last year when I signed up for a slot on National Prayer day to commit to a full hour of prayer at a designated time. I was not only able to stay focused, but didn't want to stop when my hour was up. I found myself in an attitude of prayer all morning, and even into the afternoon.

Intentional. That is the key. So little of my attempts at relationships is intentional, including my relationship to God. That is why my weekly meeting with our old friends at the nursing home is so important. It reminds me that relationships don't just happen. They have to be cultivated. They require maintenance, love, effort, care, and intentional connection.

Like I mentioned yesterday, I was a negative space wall flower growing up. I hovered on the edges, too shy and too different to easily connect with others. I am still shy (inwardly at least) and Lord knows I am a wee bit different, and often my interests don't mesh well with normal people....However, I have learned that when I reach out intentionally to others, often enough, lovingly enough, and persistently enough....they eventually reach back.  In fact, I think God is our guide in this. If anyone is intentional in relationships, it is He. Look at the Bible and how His people ran from Him time and time and time again. And yet He never shut them away from Him, and He never gave up. He may have chastised them, but He was always offering a Way to return to Him, and He never ever stopped beseeching them....or us.

The least I could do in return is be intentional in a few moments of earnest prayer with Him. And maybe then go out and be a little more intentional in my relationships with those around me. There are two common ailments to mankind that I think we do have a bit of control over- boredom and loneliness.  I think both are cured by the same method- reaching out beyond our own molecular space with intention to bump up against something or someone created by the God who knows how hard it is.

Lucky was still glaring at me.
"Hey, sometimes what helps you hurts a little!" I said, as he licked the crumbs from the rug.

Psalm 18:16
¹⁶ He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
   he drew me out of deep waters.
Psalm 119:48
⁴⁸ I reach out for your commands, which I love,
   that I may meditate on your decrees.