I wandered the aisles of the vegetable section of the store. Harvest time has such a wonderful offering of fresh fruits and vegetables- apples freshly picked from local orchards, cauliflower wrapped in their huge stiff leaves, peppers, onions, corn, coconuts...
Coconuts? Are coconuts a fall harvest fruit?
I picked up the coconut. Asherel had always wanted a coconut. She had been intrigued with coconuts even before seeing the Monty Python skit where two coconut halves are used to make the sound of horse hooves while the actor cantered around the room. I turned the coconut over and pounded its hard shell. I had no idea how to open or use the coconut insides, but I put the coconut in my basket.
Later, Asherel passed by the coconut on the kitchen counter.
"You bought a coconut!" she cried in delight, "Why!?"
"Because I knew you wanted one and I love you. What will we make with the coconut?"
"I don't know," she said, "Can I cut it open?"
"Do you know how?"
"No."
"Well research it first."
Shortly after that she sent me a link. It listed the tools needed to open a coconut: pick, hacksaw, carving tools or sharp flexible knife.
I have always pictured coconuts as the food of simple, indigenous people who wear skirts of grass and build huts of palm fronds. Somehow, I can't picture them with a hacksaw, as they prepare their Pina Colada.
Nonetheless, as soon as she finished school, she gathered the coconut demolition tools. First, she pierced the coconut soft spot with the pick, and drained the coconut water. Friends had advised me to drink that, but the pick had been a little dirty and a bunch of brown specks floated in the water. We dumped it. Some experts advise whacking the coconut with the back of a meat cleaver. It will split roughly in half. But Asherel wanted a clean cut for her horse imitation instrument, so she opted for the hacksaw. Let me be the first to warn you, hacksawing a coconut in half is not as easy as you would think, which is why you don't see the indigenous grass skirted people using it. A half hour later, she had two clean halves of a very beautiful milky white centered coconut.
"Save the coconut meat," I said, "I will make something with it."
"What will you make?"
"I have no idea. I have never even seen the inside of a fresh coconut."
So next, she followed the instructions to pull the coconut meat away from the shell. At first, she had to laboriously shave away pieces, but then she reached the inside of the hard shell, pulled away a small section, and the other chunks were cleanly wedged away from the shell.
We both practiced cantering around the house, clapping the coconut halves together in the rhythm of a galloping horse. I have no rhythm, so wasn't very good, but Asherel made a creditable canter sound. I put the white insides in a bowl, and stuck them in the refrigerator. More research will be needed before I know what to do with it.
That night, I dreamt that Matt and his new wife Karissa, Asherel and I were all eating dinner at the top of a lighthouse that was perched in the ocean. The sea was violent, and the waves kept swirling higher, and then there was an explosion. The top of the lighthouse was blown into pieces and I clutched Asherel's hand as the four of us were catapulted into the raging water. I knew that we were all going to die. And then, all four of our heads popped back up above the water, and clinging to each other, we then swam safely and unharmed to shore.
I had bought the coconut remembering Asherel's younger days, and younger passions. I had also been thinking of my son Matt when he was young and how important his youthful desires seemed to him then, but all had morphed into adult dreams and goals. Long ago, my little boy Anders and I would dig "goo holes" in the sand, and believe perhaps if we dug far enough, we could reach China. I had tried to satisfy their whims, to make their childhood magical when I could.
As I looked at the coconut, a sob had caught in my throat, thinking how fun it had all been. I miss my little children, I thought. They are all grown or nearly so. It is no longer as easy to satisfy the desires of their heart, or protect them from the disappointments or explosions of dreams. All I can really do now is be near when I am able, and pray when I am not.
When Jesus was preparing to leave this earth, the Disciples felt abandoned. How would they make it without their leader? But He promised them, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." But He did leave their physical presence. None of us can still touch His hand, or feel His arms around us, protecting us from overwhelming waves or crumbling dreams. Still, He is there. He has not forsaken us. He is not beside us any longer, but inextricably within. Maybe, in a similar way, all those moments of joy with my little children were also being deeply imbedded in their soul, an indwelling reservoir that might buoy them to the surface when trials crashed over their head.
When the hard shell of the coconut split open, the fibrous, brown outside was starkly contrasted by the milky white of the inside. Asherel tasted a small piece of the fresh coconut.
"Mmmm, it's good," she said smiling.
Yes, I thought, what is hidden in the heart can be good, very good.
Exekial 11:
I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. 20 Then they will follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. They will be my people, and I will be their God.
Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
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.
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.
"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)
a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
9 Save your people and bless your inheritance;
be their shepherd and carry them forever.
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