Raising the Bar

My middle child Matthias wanted to be a lawyer ever since joining debate club at age 11. He became a member of Charlotte Teen Court as an "attorney" as soon as he was old enough to be allowed to do so. He worked hard in school, and then want on to become a top student in law school. He sacrificed a great deal working towards his dream. He never wavered in his desire, and he kept plugging through some very deep disappointments. He never gave up, though there were many times I thought surely the many obstacles, setbacks, or failures might finally do him in. 

An abysmal economy hit during his years in law school. A very small percentage of his fellow students were extended summer internships or job prospects. In prior years, most law students would have paid internships and job offers at the end of their first year. By the time he graduated, he had still not received a job offer.

Dismayed, but refusing to give up, he continued applying. And then he got an interview with a major firm that had turned him down his first year as a law student. It was the firm in Virginia he had most wanted to work for. He didn't want to get his hopes up because there had been so many disappointments. It was a miraculous, joyful day when they hired him. All that was left was to pass the bar exam.

Students take the Bar in early summer. They don't find out if they passed until late October. He began working at the wonderful law firm, but of course, he had to pass the bar exam. 

Yesterday, I got a text message from my remarkable, hard working, never-giving-up son:

He passed the bar on his first try.

It is so easy to throw in the towel, especially when confronted with failure after failure. It is so easy to blame others, or to blame God when the world seems to be against us. It is much harder to keep trying, keep praying, keep hoping, keep persevering.

I write this with tears in my eyes, filled with love and pride and joy for my wonderful son, a man of God who exemplifies perseverance. I feel a little bit more able to tackle the day thinking of his example. In things of God, we will often be ridiculed, and discouraged by an increasingly anti-God society. We are often deceived that lowering our standards, lowering the bar of moral dictates or Godly behavior is what we need to do to reach the world. It is a lie, and one we should not succumb to. All of us are called to persevere in our walk with God as much as we our able, and in the end, we will be rewarded. Jesus set the bar, not us, and He wants us to pass over it even more than we do.

**********

For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love. For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. (2 Peter 1:5-8 NIV)

Out of the Well

I love sitting and watching the Dog Agility trials- there are always surprises, inspirations, heart breaks, startling achievement, bitter failure, joy, despair. Nearly every aspect of the human condition can be symbolically expressed in less than one minute runs. But my favorite ones to watch are the surprises- the dogs that have struggled to stay focused, the owners that have wearied of ever 'getting it', the sudden inexplicable gathering all one's wits and training together to coalesce in victory. Those are the runs that make me remember this is a world of hope.

So my picture today on this post is not too great. I was distracted by the dogs, but also trying to draw in blinding sunlight. I was having trouble seeing the iPod screen.

One of my favorite dogs is a big standard poodle- Drew. We met Drew years ago when we started with our club. Drew has boundless energy and loves everyone. He is forever racing wildly around the field, and distracted by the desire to visit and lick the ring crew. I remember his owner, Carol, once telling me after another wild run at a trial that she felt like throwing in the towel. He just wasn't getting it.  Carol is a saint- a tireless worker at our club, and a caregiver for her aged, failing mom, while holding a full time job as well. She never complains, and is always smiling, at least when I see her. So I always try to watch Drew when they are at a trial we are attending. I always pray they will overcome their struggles.

It was time for Drew's Open Jumper's Run. I stopped at the sideline, as I was passing by, glad that I hadn't left and missed him. It started well, and then on the third jump, Drew veered and began his typical exuberant, happy to be alive sprint around the jump. Carol stayed calm, and kept calling him back. I think he circled the area three times, then noticed Carol, and cleared the jump he had initially refused. In Open level, the dog is allowed 2 mistakes. Despite the large time expenditure Drew's romp devoured, it only counted as one mistake. I could see that Drew could have broken off on another wild romp at any moment; he had that joyful edgy look in his bounding run. But Carol stayed confident and controlled, and kept signalling him to the next jump, then the next, and then finally the last. The rest of the run, which had started so likely to end in failure, had been clean, and masterfully run.  So many handlers would have panicked and given up after that out of control race around the field, thinking it was no use, they would never do well now, and the dog was obviously not focused on the handler anyway. The run would have gone from bad to awful. Instead, Carol ran the rest of the race as if the first bobble had never happened. She ran as though she knew she could succeed. And the wonderful surprise was not only did Drew Qualify in that run, he placed first, finished his Open Level title, and moved up to the Excellent level.

We have all been like Joseph of the Bible, languishing in the bottom of a well, thinking our world couldn't get any darker or more hopeless. And then when we are pulled out of the well, we become slaves. And then we are unjustly accused and thrown in prison. And sometimes, we think that means it is all over. There is no reason to try any more, there is no hope, and the unfairness of life has finally battered us to the point where we decide to give up. However, in the end, Joseph ended up the right hand man of the King, and singlehandedly saved his people from starvation. And Carol and Drew won first place, believing that when you don't give up, wonderful blessings ensue.

Genesis 24: 56
⁵⁶ But he said to them, “Do not detain me, now that the LORD has granted success to my journey. Send me on my way so I may go to my master.”

Inspiring Genius

While I was looking at the magazine cover of the kayak skiing down the snow covered mountain, thinking how fun that must be, and how dangerous, Asherel was checking her email.
"Oh, poor Josh is freaking out," she said.
"Why?"
"He's toastmaster (of Gavel Club) next week and he sent me 6 emails with questions of what to do."
It is funny that of all people, Josh would be nervous about this role, as he comes across as remarkably self confident, perhaps even a toe over too self confident.
"Are you advising him?" I asked.
"Yes."
I continued thinking about the kayak skiing- would it really be possible to turn, using oars, going 100 miles an hour down icy steep inclines? And if turning were possible, how about stopping? I began to picture in my head the various possible methods of stopping and not one involved leaving the kayak rider alive.
Asherel erupted in laughter.
She could barely speak through her gasping chortles as she read Josh's response:
"Some people, while not possessing genius, have a remarkable talent of stimulating it."
I laughed, "What advice did you give him that was so wonderful?" I asked.
"He couldn't quite fit all the print on one page so I told him to decrease the margins."

I thought about parenting, then. I do not possess genius. However, I do try to stimulate it in my kids. They have far more potential than I ever had. But what I do have is determination and perseverance. I figure if I can somehow teach them to use their fine brains God has given them to their full potential and never give up, they could change the world...and I think they have a responsibility to do so.  I had a fun facebook discussion with a friend about perseverance. I can't remember his quote, but I wrote the one I had grown up with: Success is 1 % inspiration and 99% perspiration. I believe it was Woody Allen who said most of success was just showing up. I would add to that- showing up day after day after day, till the job is done.

It is very easy to be inspired. It is much more difficult to follow that inspiration to completion, because completing a work always involves hard, and often tedious, laborious persistence. It is very discouraging to me to see half finished projects gathering dust. God warns us of this tendency to stop when the going gets tough. There are twice as many references to perseverance as to  inspired in the Bible. Those who persevere are told they are blessed, will develop character, will lead to hope, will be commended.  In counterpoint, in Hosea, the inspired person is called a maniac. Inspiration is a good beginning, but it is never where we should end. Inspiration should always be transformed into something that draws us nearer to the end. We are inspired upon hearing the command, but we must persevere to complete it. It may be the inspiration of a genius to reduce the margins, but someone still has to write the text that must fit the page. And that takes effort.

"Speaking of inspiring genius, look at this," I said showing Asherel the picture of the kayak skiing down the mountain. I just couldn't get over what maniac would think to do this.
"Fun!" she said.
"Dangerous," I said, thinking this is one project I am not inspired to bring to fruition.

James 1: 12
¹² Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

Little by Little

While Asherel went off on her riding trail, happily bouncing on the horse, I was helping at the barn with the job de jour. My unglamorous labor was to chip the cement like layer of goat mashed straw and mud and goat excrement from an aisle in the barn that ran alongside the horse stalls front ends. The bonus for this job was that as I worked, the horses all looked at me, with their sweet brown eyes. I would pause, often, sweat dripping down my neck, to pet their muzzles.
"There are advantages to  not having opposable thumbs," I told one silky muzzled brown horse. He stomped his hoof and swished his tail, scattering flies.

"Well, nice chatting with you," I said, glancing at my watch. I had been working 5 minutes. Only 55 to go. I was already gasping air a little, and my arms ached. With a sigh, I went back to work, chipping inch by inch of the rock solid mass. It reminded me of why we left NY state. Chipping ice off of driveways was similar to this job. It is back breaking, tedious, and hard. If you don't get just the right leverage under the ice or goat cement, the shovel clatters and skitters over the surface, and all your forward momentum causes you to lose your balance and almost fall while ten soft muzzled horses nicker politely behind their hooves.

In one of my frequent pauses to try to bring my heart pace down from 3,000 times the normal rate, I thought about the East Coast book signing tour I am contemplating. I contacted a string of bookstores and rescue organizations along the east coast, from our town all the way to Boston. I have never tried to promote a book before, and have no idea if the expense and time would pay off. However, I would hate to see my book die a small, local death. My best hope in reaching the masses, was to go to the masses. As I leaned on the shovel, I thought how each little book signing venue would be like chipping away, piece by painful piece, at a layer of cement like goat sludge.

My brother texted me from his flooded home last night. He and his son had just taken a cold shower, as of course, there was still no water heater, or electricity, or any modern convenience restored to the flood devastated city. They had spent the day in his basement, ripping out soaked insulation and trampling through the furnace oil encrusted mud. Shivering in the cooling night, they had built a fire in the firepit and were warming themselves.
"What more do you have to do?" I asked.
"Oh just replace the electrical circuits, furnace, floors, and move 47 tons of mud. Little stuff like that."
(He didn't say "stuff" actually, but in the midst of this terrible calamity, one can forgive him a little slip of colorful language.)
"Then you can return to fine living?" I asked.
"This is fine living!" he countered.
"Yeh, for a caveman...are you eating your food raw?"
"No, cooking it on the double burner Coleman model stove 425E that we looted. Really nice. Google it."
"Why are people getting rid of good things?" I asked.
"Water damage. Many good things come from adversity," he added.
He sent a picture from his phone of the blazing fire in the fire pit, and then of a lovely full moon.
"How does one pump out 47 tons of mud?" I asked, but he didn't answer that text. I think he and Greg had gone looting again.
(For those of you ready to call the police, my brother is a good, moral man. When he says 'looting', he means rummaging through people's flood garbage.)

But I thought of how one removes 47 tons of mud from a flooded house. A little at a time. What else can one do? One clears a floor of  goat plastered sludge one shovel at a time. I travel with my book and convince the world it is worth reading one person at a time. All of us survive adversity one moment at a time. And God sent manna from heaven one day at a time. It sustained a whole people for decades of wandering in the wilderness, and when they reached the Promised Land, the manna ceased. But God warned them they would not possess the land all at once...but that little by little, they would overcome their enemies and settle the land He had prepared for them. Step by step, shovelful by shovelful, book by book, little by little. The smallest numbers added together over and over still add up to infinity.

"On the prowl for more Stakmore chairs," texted John, "I hear the fire department is getting rid of hundreds."
"Maybe for good reason," I said.
"They are fine," He said, "What's a little water damage?"
A little water damage might not be the way most residents would describe the epic flood of Owego, where the river is still 5 feet above flood stage, and a whole city was submerged. But if one can define "fine living" as sitting around a fire pit and cooking over a coleman camping stove after taking a cold shower in the dark, contemplating the work of removing 47 tons of sludge from a flooded home....well, then I suspect it will take alot more than a flood to drown him. I hope there is a bookstore open in Owego when I pass through on my East Coast Book Tour.

Exodus 23:29-31

²⁹ But I will not drive them out in a single year, because the land would become desolate and the wild animals too numerous for you. ³⁰ Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land.

Reward at the end of the tunnel

"We are going back to kindergarten," said Polly, our beloved agility trainer. Since Honeybun had gotten a few faults at the last agility trial by running right by the tunnels, and not through them, Polly told us we needed to show her that going through the tunnel would be well worth the effort.

Asherel loaded a little plate with steak, and Polly set it at the end of the tunnel.
"Now bring her here," Polly said, "Be sure she sees the reward."
Honeybun got a sniff of that steak and was standing up on her hind legs lunging for it.
"Now take her right by the entrance of the tunnel and send her," Polly said.
Honeybun didn't have to be asked twice. As soon as the leash came off, she shot through the tunnel, a blazing golden bullet.
"Do it again, but bring her a little further back."
Each time, Asherel started Honeybun further back, and finally put a jump in between her start and the tunnel. And unfailingly, Honeybun raced over the jump and like a cheetah was on her tail through the tunnel to the sumptuous reward.
"Problem solved," I laughed.

My boy is in a bit of a tunnel these days. Law school was a ton of work, but he survived his first year well. Now he is working day and night on his entry for Law Review, which is what all aspiring attorneys want to be accepted in but it is fiercely competitive. And in the midst of all this, he is trying to find a summer legal internship, preferably paid which very few first year law students can hope to secure. Thus far he has had little luck. He is getting married in July, and I think all these stressors are beginning to take their toll. He is probably thinking like Honeybun had been before our session, "Perhaps I should just avoid the tunnel altogether."

In agility trials, the tunnel is quite long, and often curved so that the entry angle is not always on an obvious line from the last obstacle. While in the dark tunnel, the dog can't see the end due to the twists and curves. She must run through it because she has been taught to expect that her master will be waiting at the other end, and she will be lavishly rewarded when she finishes her run.

Life is not unlike an agility tunnel. Sometimes the right way to go is not easily apparent. And then sometimes we enter a stretch of dark, curving, twisted events and it takes all our courage to keep moving forward. Sometimes the tunnel doesn't seem worth all that effort, all that angst. We can't see the Master, and we just have to trust He is always there just on the other side of the wall that separates us....or that He will still be there when we come out on the other side....
If we do manage to make it all the way through, we hope to find a reward that assures us all that struggle was worth it if we hope to dare navigate another tunnel. And there is always another tunnel.......

I wish I could find an easy solution for my beloved boy, something so simple as putting a plate of sirloin at the end of his tunnel. But in this case, I am not the Master, and I can't help him. I am in a bit of a tunnel myself, the tunnel of trust and faith that his Master is indeed there, waiting, and the reward will be there if he perseveres.

All God's heroes reached periods of despair. Even Jesus cried out, "If it be possible, take this cup from my hand!"  No one enters hardship without struggle. God gave us tears for a reason. There is no shame in despair....only in letting it lead to giving up. Sometimes the reward comes immediately at the end of the tunnel, and sometimes not til the agility class is over.... and sometimes the reward is not sirloin, but just a pat on the back saying, "Well done. You did your best, and nothing more can be asked of anyone."

But if any one of you knows a lawyer looking for a summer intern, a really smart, sweet, and able young man could use a reward waiting at the end of the tunnel.

Revelation 2:2
² I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked people, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. ³ You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary.

Tangles of Life

Our Science Olympiad Helicopter team devised a clever way to retrieve our helicopters when they got stuck in the gym rafters. They tied fishing line to a big fat rubberband. Then Asherel positioned me, with my arms outstretched above my head, one end of the rubber band under my finger nail. She then lay on the floor, pulling the other end of the rubber band as far as she could and carefully aiming.
"Move left Mom! Not that left! The other left! Now forward. Too far! Back. Now don't move."
Then the rubber band would shoot up, twanging past my ear with its line of fishing string trailing, like a harpoon. We found the fishing line critical since we were losing too many rubber bands in the rafters. When they would finally hit the helicopter, they would tug on the fishing line and haul in the catch.

The only difficulty with this ingenious helicopter retrieval system is that no matter how carefully we put away our rubberband harpoon, the line always tangled when we needed it next.We could waste half our practice session untangling the fishing line. Fishing line is one of the most impossible materials to untangle. The only thing more difficult to untangle is life.

I won't share the specifics, but yesterday was one of those tangled life days that looked impossible to untangle. Just when we thought we were beginning to ease the knots a little in some fairly important aspects of our sojourn here on earth,  new undesirable events tugged in just the wrong direction. When I stopped blowing my nose and dabbing at my eyes, all I could see were hopeless, insurmountable tangles.

Our helicopter team discovered there were only two ways to untangle fishing line. The easiest is to just cut away the knot. Sometimes you can lose as much as half the line or more. I usually opt for the 'cut away the knot' method, but the kids have more patience, and something inside them just won't let them snip the errant section off. Instead, while I cross my arms, and tap my toes, and twiddle my fingers against my elbows, they methodically and carefully start at one end, and untie every tangle until we have at least enough line to shoot our rubberband harpoon again.

In the tangles of life, most of the time I can't use method one. It means cutting away my heart, or the equivalent, since it usually involves a loved one. I am stuck with method two. Slowly, laboriously, patiently starting at the first knot and with bloodied fingers, working it free....then moving onto the next.

In the midst of life knot untying yesterday, Asherel asked me to practice guitar with her. I am a horrid guitar player, but I do love it. Asherel is a good teacher and told me to pick a favorite song that I would love to practice. She would help me learn it. I spent a couple of days thinking about it. And then I told her I would like to learn "Eidelweiss".  I really didn't feel like leaving the tangled knots of life I was working on, even to practice Eidelweiss, but Asherel begged me. So I settled next to my dear daughter who finger plucked the melody while I strummed the chords and sang. My voice cackles and cracks more than it used to when my dad and I would belt it out on our Sunday drives. I have to strain to reach the high notes.... but some of the sadness of the day did melt away as I sang and made music with my girl.

The song is a simple one. It has a sweet simple melody and easy chords. It is about a flower. The Eidelweiss plant originated on the harsh steppes of Asia. It was able to survive there because of deep, fibrous roots, and also a felt like covering on its leaves. The deep roots help it to cling to the soil through the harsh winds of the steppes, and the covering of the leaves prevents scorching from the often brutal sun. In the movie, The Sound of Music, the song Eidelweiss becomes the anthem of freedom, love of homeland and family, the strength to persevere in the face of impossible circumstances.

"Can we videotape this song of you and me singing?" I asked Asherel. The girl who hates to have her picture taken finally acquiesced when I grovelled at her feet.
"Please, it would mean so much to me...and to my mom. It's her favorite song. I'll send her the video."
So we sang and played Eidelweiss about a thousand times. Sometimes we would start and she would miss a note. Take 2. Sometimes I would play the wrong chord.Take 3. Sometimes I would be unable to suppress unexplained laughter and we would have to cut and begin again.Take 4, 5, 6, etc. After about 290 takes, we finally got one that didn't sound too awful. As we watched the playback, I cringed. Is that old, serious looking lady really me? Why did it sound so beautiful while I was singing it? The American Idol judges would not only call it "pitchy," but I am pretty sure they would threaten to resign unless someone cut out my vocal cords immediately and fed them to the sharks before they could inflict more pain and suffering.

I may not send it to my mom. I may wait til the science of vocal transplant has been perfected. The tangles I was working on were still there when we finished our guitar lesson. But of their own accord, some of the knots seemed a little less tight. I will try to be an Eidelweiss, I decided.

After all, my roots are deep and I am covered.

Jeremiah 17: 7-8
 ⁷ “But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD,
   whose confidence is in him.
⁸ They will be like a tree planted by the water
   that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
   its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
   and never fails to bear fruit.”

As Alexander the Great once said.......

One-two-three-fire!
The projectile headed up, up, up, through the tree limb and down down down. It had traveled about a meter forward.
After hours of adjustments to our trebuchet, hammering, filing, sawing, brainstorming..... it was shooting projectiles worse than ever.
"What are we doing wrong?" I groaned.
So back to the drawing board, back to tinkering, and now it is slightly better on average than it was before the regional Science Olympiad competition. Very slightly. I understand that some of the schools have scientists, engineers, experts in the field called in to consult with and work with  the kids. As homeschoolers, all my team has is me.

"We have to figure out if we want to use the short sling, the middle sling, or the long sling," I told Josh and Asherel, my trebuchet team.
"Well," said Josh solemnly, his chin thrust forward, "As Alexander the Great once said- it is not the high road, or the low road, but the middle road you should take."
I blinked at Josh.
"Did he really say that?" I asked.
"Probably!" declared Josh, "I mean he might have. He could have."

Right before our practice, I had received an email from the agent I most want to represent my book, the one I have been writing, editing, revising, and peddling for two years now. The agent said my proposal was very professional, and she was interested! BUT....always those buts that stick their noses in every bit of good news and mangle it, I needed to work on my 'platform' section, the part that indicates I have a market frothing at the mouth in anticipation of my book. For example, she continued, I don't mention radio or TV appearances. Radio or TV appearances?

I can see it now. The local news has caught wind that I want to publish a book. Put that newsreel on the bombing of Libya on hold! Someone has written a book and might publish it someday! Breaking news!  Can't you just picture the anchorman setting me down across from him:
"Well Vicky, before we begin, could you again reiterate exactly why we are interviewing you? My notes indicate you hope to publish a book? While this is indeed fascinating, can you tell me if there is anything you have actually done that might interest our viewers?"
I whisper a few hurried words in his ear.
"Hahaha, well no, I am not sure that raising a rabbit in 4H actually is the sort of thing I meant. Do you have any other accomplishments, something that raises you from the status of a nobody?"
And so on.

I wrote back and told the agent that while I fully expected someone might want to interview me for a radio or TV appearance after I published my book, I wasn't quite sure they could be persuaded to do so beforehand.

And then this blog I write. I get about 20,000 hits a year. The agent gets 20,000 hits a month on her blog. And even that is not enough. I need to find a way to find more people to read my blog. I need to increase my readership at least ten fold. Everyone has advised me on that. One suggestion- add interesting sidebars, like recipes to my blog.
"Oh yes," agreed Asherel, "Press the 2 button on the microwave."
"Now that was funny..." I said, "Disrespectful, but funny."
And alas, true. Josh had brought in the trebuchet and was chatting with us while I whipped up dinner.
I opened a box of chicken cordon bleu, ripped off the cellophane, plopped it on the cookie sheet and set the oven at 400. This special meal only occurs rarely.
"I make chicken cordon bleu!" said Josh.
"Do you pull it out of a box too?" I asked.
"Oh no, I roll ham, and provolone in the actual chicken breast. It is delicious. Then I coat it in breadcrumbs..."
Josh is 13. No, I don't think recipe sidebars on my blog are exactly my forte.

"Well," asks the TV anchorman, "Vicky, what exactly is your forte?"

At our helicopter practice, right before trebuchet practice, Ben insisted the .09 rubber band motor was going to be too strong for his helicopter.
"Look Ben, it is what the experts recommend. We have to try it to find out or we will never know."
So under protest, he wound the heavy rubber on his helicopter, which snapped off his motor hook , flailed around like a club and smashed his week of work to smithereens.
He looked pointedly at me.

"Vicky," said the anchorman, "I am waiting. We cut to commercial in 20 seconds. Can you summarize why exactly the producer put you on this show?"

"Well, as Alexander the Great once said, greatness is not measured by what you do, but by your heart."
The anchorman arched his eyebrow, "Did Alexander the Great really say that?"
"Probably! He might have....he could have."

Matthew 19:29-30

²⁹ And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life. ³⁰ But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first.

Send me

After Asherel's helicopter finished its flight at the Science Olympiad contest, she didn't want to put it down. She cradled it in her hands, and smiled as coaches from other teams came to look at it. It had flown one minute thirty seconds....not its personal best of 1:40, but still under the stress of contest conditions, a long and beautiful flight. And at that point, the team was in first place. Her partner Ben's copter flew almost as long, and the second flight would be the tie breaker so we were confident we had done well.  I spent the time before and after the flight body blocking objects that came too close to the fragile helicopter, and glaring at anyone who dared come within a 6 foot radius. This 4 gram thin balsa and tissue structure was the culmination of 9 months of excruciating labor and to the best of my ability, I was not going to let it die under my watch.

"Excuse me!" I barked to the lady pushing down on the helicopter point, "Please please don't touch it!" I was in no danger of winning the Gracious Spirit award, but I knew that the 1/16th inch balsa would break with very little effort. She snapped her hand back.
"I should've known better," she said.
 As she had transgressed in this almost unpardonable sin after instead of before our flight, I was magnanimous in my forgiveness.
"It's ok, just don't let it happen again."
(OK folks, I didn't really say that, but I did then put a yellow "no crossing" tape around my team and their copters.)

Our trebuchet did not fire as beautifully as we hoped, and though it came close to hitting the "castle", we saw several teams actually land in the castle. We knew we didn't win that one, but we were somewhere in the middle. Our trebuchet didn't do well with light counterweights, so we had been hoping for a heavy counterweight to be given during the contest, but alas, it was a very light conterweight. However, no trebuchet came even close to the beauty and elegance of the beautiful duct tape pattern and covering Asherel had put on ours. We may lose, but we surely won style points. If they were awarded. Which they are not. Sigh.

Her third event was Experimental Design. The three team members came out after half an hour- with half their allotted time still left.
"It was so easy," they said. Ohoh. That is not always a good sign.

I was designated our club photographer for the awards ceremony, so went as close to the front center of the arena as I could get. There was an empty seat next to a woman who was sitting with a large school. All the other teams there were huge. Our little homeschool team took a small sliver of a small corner of the arena. The powerhouse schools had several teams in every division and I heard whispers that kids had to try out for a place on the team! In contrast, our team had to accost innocent homeschoolers and beg them to join.
At any rate, the woman I sat next to asked if I was a homeschooler. Now how did she know that? I was not wearing the prerequisite denim jumper, I did not have wool freshly sheared that morning that I was busily spinning into yarn, nor did I have a backpack filled with teacher guides in every subject from every grade.
"Well yes," I answered, "But how did you know that?"
"It says Science at Home on your shirt."
"It does? Are you sure? I thought it said Science Hounds."
She looked again.
"Oh, so it does. I thought for sure it said Science at Home."
We laughed and she told me she had a daughter she homeschools herself, and one that she had had to send to school, or she would kill her.
"Why?" I asked.
"Well, we suspect she had neurological issues, but we didn't know that when I was trying to school her. She has just been diagnosed with ADD and we are in the process of trying to do more testing as no one knows what to do with her."
"Have you ever heard of occupational therapy?" I asked.

In my former life, the one before homeschooling and raising three kids, I was (am) an occupational therapist. As I explained to the woman, I had been in private practice many years, and had specialized in pediatrics, specifically children with learning disabilities and attention deficit issues. I had worked in an area called Sensory Integration. (Those words had not tumbled off my lips in years, I realized as I spoke with her.)
As she described some of the baffling issues with her child, I saw a child who very likely had a Sensory Integration type of problem. She could be helped. I gave her a list of resources, and then did a little mini-therapy session to show her something she could try with her child immediately. Then I left to do my duty as team photographer.

Event after event, our team was called to the arena floor to collect medals. Nearly every kid won a medal in our middle school club. My own teams did wonderfully well. Asherel and Ben placed third in helicopter, Josh and Asherel placed 7th in Trebuchet (how....not sure..... maybe the judges gave us extra credit for the beauty of our treb), and her experimental design team placed 5th. The top 5 schools would advance to the State competition. Our club placed 4th.
"Oh goody," I thought, "6 more weeks of breaking helicopters and flinging things at our as yet unbroken windows."

As I returned up the thronging aisles to find my happy team, the lady I had been sitting next to stopped me.
"Do you mind if I get your telephone number?" she asked, "Forgive me, but I feel like you have helped me so much in such a short time....well, would that be ok?"
"Of course," I said, giving her my number. As I returned to my kids, overflowing with joy at the very unexpected results, I was marveling not only at them and where their perseverance had brought them. But I was also thinking of the patient and exquisite engineering of God that had placed me with my little bit of something I do know about next to a woman who sorely needed to hear it. And I returned to the teams I had coached in something I knew nothing about, at least when we started 9 months ago, who were now clasping the shiny medals around their neck.

In the end, you never know how you will be used. Moses begged God not to use him to lead his people, as he spoke with halting speech. Jonah ran from God's direction to speak His words to Ninevah. Sarah laughed and secretly mocked God when told by angels she would birth the father of many nations in her advanced age. Yet in the end, Moses led his people out of slavery, Jonah preached to the Ninevites who miraculously repented and turned to God, and Sarah did indeed give birth to Isaac, who was the father of the entire Hebrew nations.  God can do anything....with anyone.  All He needs is a willing spirit. How often I need to be bonked over the head with that message!

It was fitting that as Asherel's helicopter was disappearing into the rafters, an entire arena full of people were looking to heaven.

Isaiah 6:8
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”

When Life is not the pits......

Hollow Creek Farm is starting a Pitbull club and will be selling really wonderful pitbull paraphernalia....I know this top secret in advance because I have been asked to help design the really cool pitstuff. This is the kind of project I can really sink my teeth into, which pitbulls are given a bad rap for doing themselves. Since the nicest dog I know is a pitbull, I am happy to help educate the public.

In my research to help me come up with a really wonderful, clever, way-cool Pitbull slogan I uncovered some fascinating pitbull facts. Did you know that Pitbulls were the pet of choice for at least two presidents, Woodrow Wilson and Teddy Roosevelt? Woodrow Wilson presided during the famous Treaty of Versailles, ending the "Great War", WWI.  And do you know how he brokered that peace? He consulted his pitbull, who advised him to be peaceful, but strong.

In fact,  only a generation or so ago, pitbulls were considered the dog of choice by many due to their reputation for determination, dignity and strength. They were considered a symbol of what made America great. There were patriotic posters featuring pitbulls wrapped in American flags. Even more shocking given their poor reputation nowadays, they were called "nanny" dogs because of their loyal and tender, loving protection and care of children. Helen Keller and Fred Astaire both owned pitbulls. So what happened....how did the pitbull become so maligned and hated?

I can answer pretty much any question with two simple choices- 1. Jesus, or 2. Stupidity and Ignorance
.
Try it. Ask anything and either 1 or 2 will fit.
Let's give it a shot:
1. Who will protect me when I dare to go skiing again?
 Answer: Jesus
2. Why will I dare to go skiing again?
Answer: Stupidity and Ignorance
3. What got me into this mess?
Answer: stupidity and ignorance
4. Who will get me out of this mess?
Answer: Jesus
5. Why are we having broccoli again, Mom?
Answer: depends on who is asking this one. If you love broccoli, the answer is Jesus, if you hate broccoli, the answer is stupidity and ignorance.

But you get the point. So why did Pitbulls get such a bad rap? Answer #2- Stupidity and Ignorance.
In the 1980s, dog fighting became a growing underground gambling operation, and the pitbull with their notorious strength and tenacity were bred and used as fighter dogs. Any breed that is not socialized and trained, exercised, and loved can and likely will become dangerous. It is not dogs that should be licensed.... it is people. Unfortunately, there is no way to legislate against stupid, ignorant people owning dogs so it is always the dog that suffers.

Speaking of tenacity..... after working on my pitbull slogans, we traipsed off to our weekly smacking our head against the wall Science Olympiad practice. Our first class was helicopter, to be followed by our trebuchet class. As you recall if you read my blog faithfully, (which is what everyone on the earth should be doing), after months of work and hours and hours of diligent researching and building, we had neither a working helicopter or Trebuchet. With only 4 more meetings til the competition, this was very not good.
But, we tested our 3 helicopters and every single one flew! One of them hovered a half inch off the floor but it hovered for almost a minute. If it can do that at the competition it would likely place.

Then, on to trebuchet. The kids altered their sling release peg, and voila, that treb flung the projectile a mile. At least we think it would have. We flung a little nerf ball indoors to test it, since we couldn't go out in the rain. We are pretty sure it would have gone much further than the dismal flings we had been getting.

So unlike the poor pitbull, our tenacity is paying off.....

Hebrews 10:35-37

³⁵ So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.
 ³⁶ You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. ³⁷ For,
   “In just a little while,
   he who is coming will come
   and will not delay.”[

Following the flight plan....

What little the hairdresser left we want to rip out now. Frustration over our Science Olympiad Helicopters has reached an almost unbearable peak. After approximately 4,567,898 hours of research and construction, the helicopter flies about 4 seconds. Everything about the helicopter looks good. There is no reason it should not fly, but it doesn't. Se we are doing what every dedicated, hard working, serious scientist does when she faces obstacles and setbacks.

We are going snowboarding.

And we are taking a friend and an expert snowboarder. Our expert, Danielle, will trade us a lesson for Asherel in exchange for the drive to the mountains. She guarantees that she will have Asherel turning and stopping in no time.  I know that even falling and crashing  on a snowy mountain for now would be more fun for Asherel than gluing her fingers to 4 gram balsa helicopters that won't fly.

And it is not for lack of trying. I cannot with a straight face say Asherel listened to all my advice...not at first, anyway. She is now. However, she has put more hours into this helicopter than anything else she has ever attempted, including learning how to read and write. I am not certain this kind of effort for the return is worth it. She has learned less about helicopters than she has about perseverance, uphills that never end, and how to live a life with no fun or free time for a season. Maybe that is the point.Those lessons may sometimes hold her in good stead, if  say one day she is told the Messiah will come but until then, there will be wars, famines, disease, despair, and spiritual battles.She must learn to live joyfully, victoriously, expectantly even when the world around her is not at all an aviator's dream. Oh wait.....she is told that....

Maybe God is throwing an object lesson our way. Do not give up. Ever.Not on the really important things like living a holy life, sanctified to God, filled with truth and righteousness. Do not weary of doing right- others are watching. And when they see your helicopter fly out of glue stained, worn out fingers that are cramped from all those hours of tedious careful work, you just never know if their soul might be tempted to follow  your flight plan. You never know who might be flying in your draft right into the arms of the God of both Heaven and Earth.

"Have you got your helicopter ready?" I asked one of the high school division kids. He is doing the same event at a higher level than Asherel.
"We haven't even started yet, " he answered, "We're hoping to find a used one on Ebay."

And then there is that approach.

Meanwhile, we hope to return from flying down snowy mountains to flying helicopters.
Never give up.....

A long sit-stay

I was again walking exultantly across the expansive field ringed by rows of blue mountains when i saw the dog. She was a black lab and her owner knelt at her side, ruffled her fur, and told her to sit.
Then he stood up, told the retriever,"Stay!", and began walking purposefully away.

The dog watched his master stride up the hill. I glanced back, sure the owner would now turn and call the good dog. But he didn't. He kept walking further and further and disappeared down a little valley. Every muscle of the dog now quivered, but she did not break the stay. I stopped and turned to watch. The owner was out of sight yet the dog still sat. Her ears were perked forward. Her eyes were focused on the hill the master had dipped behind and still the dog did not break the sit.

By now I felt weepy at the expectant trust of that good, obedient dog. I kept watch with her and finally we saw the owner reappear on a distant ridge. The dog trembled and leaned forward but her haunches remained planted. And still he didn't call her. He stopped and turned.
"Please Call her now!" I breathed, but he just stood, looking at her.

Finally, interminable minutes later, he shouted, "Go!"
The dog leapt forward and sprinted towards him, her tail streaming like a celebration. When she reached him, she wagged her whole body and he kneeled on the ground, burying his face in her fur.

I remembered the story of Moses, who told his people he was going to the top of Mount Sinai to meet with and worship God. He told them to wait for his return and then headed up the mountain to collect the 10 Commandments. After 40 days, the people gave up. They decided he wasn't coming back and made an idol, a golden calf to worship instead of God who delayed so long. Of course it was as they were bowing down to this false god that Moses returned, with the tablets of the Ten Commandments in hand. Talk about egg on your face!

Sometimes we are commanded to do a long sit-stay. It is not easy to trust the Master when He has walked far away, we can no longer see Him, and we don't know when He is coming back.....or even if He is coming back. Every muscle trembles and we don't know how we can continue to trust, to obey, when our hopes are melting without His presence. Has He forgotten us? Have we been cast off forever? Why, if He loves us does He tarry?

And then, if we are listening, ears perked in His direction, we hear Him call. And if we have waited obediently, hopefully, expectantly, He will hold out His arms when He gathers us to Him, saying, "Good and faithful servant- well done!"

Asherel 's last run of the day yesterday was in the presence of her beloved brother. Matt had never seen Asherel run agility and she was so anxious to do well before him. She had not done exceptionally well thus far this weekend, and was sick with a sore throat and cold to boot. Knowing God was busy with many more important things, i tried not to pray too often that Asherel would be granted a good run in front of Matt. Polly, our mentor had warned her not to run to impress anyone, but to run the course for the joy of it. But thus far, Honey was distracted and Asherel was too hoarse to recall her well. Then Matt arrived with dear fiance Karissa and her brother, John. They settled in to watch just as Asherel's class began. I held my breath, and prayed.

And Honeybun, dear Honeybun ran the course with no faults. Asherel qualified, thus securing a fourth place ribbon in a very large class, and completed the points for her Novice Standard agility title with the little dog we had found half dead on a roadside two years ago.

Sometimes it is a long sit-stay, but it is always worth it feeling the Master's pleasure if we just don't lose hope.

Psalm 130:5 NIV

I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Hibernating

"I remember now why I left New York," I mumbled, sprawled on the icy driveway rubbing my sore hip.
I had mumbled similar thoughts for the past hour as I chipped away the sheet of ice from our treacherous driveway.
("You have used that word 'treacherous' four times today," Asherel told me later that evening.)

And I as I was splayed on the recliner later, a heating pad over my bruised muscles, rubbing my sore wrists, I decided winter is a season for young people. Of course, raking leaves is no picnic for back and arm muscles either, and I guess cutting the grass in the spring and summer takes its toll on ancient joints and lungs too.  I think it is possible I am crossing the bridge into wimpdom. My mom was running marathons at my age..... I dread to think what I will be like in a few years.

 And it is not even just that the spirit is willing but the body is weak. If I must be honest, the spirit is not all that willing. Chipping icy driveways and falling on cold hard concrete is just not as riveting as settling down with a cup of tea and a good book. I used to be a bundle of energy, but I am becoming lazy.

As I was moaning and settling into the warm recliner, I read an article about the overdriven aspect of modern life. Everything is competitive to the point where students of educational institutions that once used to center on the joy of learning for the sake of being well-learned now center on cramming whatever facts they need into their bursting brains to get the best grade and best job and best house on the block by beating out all the other students. A spirit of communal joy in knowledge and cooperation has been replaced by cut throat competition. The author pointed out in counterpoint that "Lions sleep 20 hours a day."

I thought about that. I don't know what to do about the competitive nature of education, so went straight to thinking about the lazy lion. Why would God have designed a creature that only really lived for 4 hours a day? For that matter, there are tiny frogs in the Sahara that will sometimes burrow for years until a good rainstorm finally shows up. Then they pop out of the ground like pimples on a teenager and start racing around to eat, mate, and hop. As soon as the rain ends, they head back to burrow their life away. And some frogs hibernate in the winter and their bodies, which possess a natural antifreeze slow down so they can last all winter long without needing to kiss a single princess. Some can even withstand their bodies being frozen solid and still thaw out alive in the spring!  My tired mind meandered on pondering these strange facts. For someone who knows all creation points to the Creator, I had to wonder, "Why?"  Why would God create creatures who only reached the potential of liondom, or frogdom for such brief flickers of time? It just didn't make sense to me.....

Except, I realized, in the monumental and everpresent lesson of patience and perseverance. If anything can teach us about that, it is the lion and the Sahara frog. So much of life is spent learning how to wait and while waiting, learning how not to despair.  For example, after six full months of waiting for my book proposal to be read by the agent I am hanging my hopes on, she just wrote to tell me she lost it! (I wrote about this in an earlier blog post.) Then she said if I would resend it, she would read it by Friday....this past Friday. I know all of you who like the lazy lion sleep 20 hours a day while waiting for news about my life were wondering when Friday came and went, why I didn't mention what she said about my book. Well, Friday came and went with no word from her.  I agonized about whether I should bug her, or just wait patiently and while waiting, what should I do? By Tuesday, I was sure that blood vessels were slowly exploding as I held my breath, so I finally broke down and wrote to her.

"I don't mean to bug you....well actually, truth be told, I do mean to bug you...." I wrote.
It turns out she was deathly ill, and ordered to bed and rest for a solid week. She had not forgotten me. She gave no timeline this time on when she would read my proposal and I realized, I must look to the Sahara frog as my guide, and hunker down for perhaps another long season of drought.

I think one of the best Biblical examples of expectant, faithful waiting is Noah. Noah was told to build that big boat, the Ark, in a land that had never seen rain, hundreds of miles from any water. For three years he built a boat while his neighbors all came and laughed at him. So he built and he waited.... and finally the rains came, and he definitely had the last laugh.

So this season of waiting, and resting, is not just a great cosmic flub. It is planned, and ordained, and even blessed! God is always preparing us for something. Sometimes it requires that we hunker down for a good long while, nursing aching joints, or flagging energy, waiting for His call to rain down on us, prompting us to hop into His arms in the fullness of life when to every onlooker, we seemed half dead.

Proverbs 8: 34-35
³⁴ Blessed are those who listen to me,
   watching daily at my doors,
   waiting at my doorway.
³⁵ For those who find me find life
   and receive favor from the LORD.

The Sitting Contest

Every time we pass dogs when we are out walking, my own dogs go ballistic. I have learned that the only way I can keep my arm attached to my body, which is definitely to be preferred, is whenever I see dogs in the distance, I make my dogs sit and "wait".  The other dogs would then pass by, often lunging and barking themselves, but my dogs would  be still and on the surface appear to be well-behaved good canine citizens. Should I become smug and prideful and attempt to pass the other dogs without using this strategy, my very opportunistic pets would immediately revert into wild and uncontrollable beasts, lunging and barking and making me look like I did not deserve to be a dog owner, which is indeed the closely guarded but true secret.

Unfortunately, other dog owners began to catch on. They also did not like having their arms wrenched out of the acetabulum, which is the mobile but unstable shoulder socket. So other dog owners, when they saw us in the distance, would make their dogs sit. Now we had a stalemate. Neither of us dared move, knowing how expensive shoulder surgery could be.  So we would edge closer, then make the dogs sit again. Dogs all over the neighborhood were beginning to learn to be calm when other dogs passed, as long as they were sitting. The problem was that we were all out for "walks", not "sits".  On the other hand, the nice benefit was while we were all sitting, waiting for the other owner to make the next move, we began to chat. I was slowly growing to know people in my community. Bad dogs could lead to good things, I learned.

And this is often the case. What looks like wretched and painful trials can result in wonderful things if we persevere. If we can manage to hang in there, and look beyond the naughty dog on the end of the taut leash, we sometimes see a sweet and kind neighbor we might otherwise have missed entirely.  Perhaps that is part of why James admonishes us in the book that bears his name to "count it all joy when you encounter many trials." Joy? Joy when we are struggling beyond what we are certain we can bear? In all things? I don't think so, James......And yet, time and time again, when I do manage to hang in there beyond the trial and look back, I do see that what I gained usually exceeds what I lost. 

I suspect this is key to living life with joy no matter what. Trusting that the trials are leading to something far greater and often beyond what we can see. Hang in there, whispers God, and make your dog sit. Then, when the barking is stilled, listen in the silence for Me.

James 1: 2-12
² Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. ⁵ If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. ⁶ But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. ⁷ That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. ⁸ Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.  ⁹ Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position. ¹⁰ But the rich should take pride in their humiliation—since they will pass away like a wild flower. ¹¹ For the sun rises with scorching heat and withers the plant; its blossom falls and its beauty is destroyed. In the same way, the rich will fade away even while they go about their business.
 ¹² Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

The Logarithms of Helicopters

When I sat outside in the van waiting for Asherel, the rain fell like a prayer on the upturned faces of the lovely flower-scape. Obviously the van was not sitting in front of my house, as flowers have long since determined our yard is hostile territory. But I drank in the sight as the flowers drank in the gentle rain, edging the lovely lawn of a friend. It was a balm and a delight to settle my eyes on the bursts of color in the gray day.

So later, armed with optimism and hope, I watched the youtube video on how to build a rubber-band powered helicopter. I lay all the needed supplies before me, and decided the supplies I didn't have probably weren't really necessary. (This is also the way I cook, and while results may vary, occasionally it works out.)  I will admit up front in the spirit of full disclosure that this is not how I would joyfully spend my busy homeschool afternoon, but I am determined to be the best Science Olympiad teacher I can be, and have been told that the role calls upon me to actually teach. Unfortunately, I believe that I must also be able to teach them to build the helicopter and if I haven't the foggiest notion of how to do so, they may detect some degree of incompetence.

"What about the maxim that those who can't do, teach!?" I cry, "Doesn't that suggest that I will be unsuccessful in building a helicopter if I have to teach others how to do so?"

My cries are met with silence.

As I began to delve into construction, my normally helpful daughter simply ignored my pleas for help saying, "I thought you were the teacher."  As I suspected, a dangerous precedent was being set. Not only did she refuse to assist me in building the helicopter that I need to teach her how to build Friday, but she asked for help on logarithms.

"Are you certain you can't figure it out yourself?" I called out. This is my most effective teaching strategy and often works.
"I don't understand!" she wailed.
With trepidation I left my woeful looking half constructed helicopter and headed to the math book.
I settled in beside Asherel wondering how many decades had passed since I had had to look at a logarithm. I would bet that even then I didn't really know what a logarithm was.
I reviewed what she had learned thus far with the guise of helping her "read more carefully", but in reality learning the material myself at warp speed. Whew! We didn't really need to know what a logarithm was...we just needed to know how to use it. Once I convinced her that for now, just accept that logarithms exist , like God, we don't need to understand exactly what they do or even why they do it.
"After you use them a while, you will understand what they are," I pronounced confidently. And lo and behold, on the next problem that she wailed for help, there was an equation with n+2 as an exponent.
"THIS," I declared ,"Is exactly the situation where a logarithm is useful!" (I had learned just 5 minutes ago that logarithms can be used to get rid of exponents). I applied the formula, and helped Asherel then solve it, and we got the right answer. (PS- if any of you readers know what a logarithm actually IS, please let me know.)

Now, having solved a logarithmic conundrum, I knew I could make a helicopter. I just knew it!
But I was wrong. I spent 2 hours on the helicopter, wound the rubber band motor, tossed it in the air, and it fell like a stone to the ground, not a single turn of the rotors interrupting its descent. Maybe it did need those parts I had not bothered to add after all.

"Those flowers are pretty," said Asherel looking at my drawing after laughing till her guts splashed out at my helicopter, "They must have taken you a long time to draw."
"Yes, they did, " I said, and wished that Science Olympiad were Art Olympiad.  But I actually think I know why my helicopter doesn't work, and so today I will try try again. Those poor flowers went 45 days without rain here in Charlotte, and they soldiered on, refusing to die, and were rewarded. Sometimes, the "drought" lasts a very long time in many areas- seeming unanswered prayer, struggles through work, or school, or friendships, that perfect "one" entering someone's life, grief that never dulls, dogs that won't stay inside their fence, problems that seem to have no easy solution, and helicopters that won't fly. (This list is not exhaustive, just illustrative.)  But then, the rain comes. It always does, eventually. Sometimes God is just teaching us to persevere.

"I will let you have an extra half cup of trail mix if you build the helicopter and teach me how to do it," I told my student.
"IF I have time," she said.

Hebrews 10:36
You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised.

Not Letting Go

I started my book on Honeybun two years ago, when we first found her. I knew something special was happening and I wanted to record it, at first just because I love to write and wanted to keep my family informed. As our unexpected success with her began to look possible, I realized that she was changing us as much as we were changing her. The idea for the book solidified and I wrote many hours a day for about a year. Then I sought publishers. I knew nothing about the book publishing world. I did what every naive, humble book writer wannabe does- booked airfare for NYC where I was sure hordes of admirers would be descending upon me to ask for my autograph before my taping on the Today Show. NOT.
I got writer's cramp, but not from writing my book. No, my fingers cramped from wadding all the rejection letters to toss into the garbage can. The book about a hopeless dog looking for a miracle became the pursuit of a hopeless writer looking for a miracle. The parallel would be breathtaking if it wasn't so depressing.
Many agents expressed interest, gave suggestions, asked for the full manuscript. Some still have it and are either reading it now, or using it to line their bird's cages. Hard to know which at this point. I don't want to be like one of those singers on American Idol that everyone laughs at because they are so deluded about their talent. On the other hand, I really believe the book is good and could be a hopeful inspiration to people struggling to achieve something they cannot achieve.... at least not easily. I have slogged along, through mounds of rejections, wrote a second book, and as you know, practice writing each day on all of you.
So last night, an agent wrote. She says the book has potential and gave me a "to do" list. I love lists. I love the act of checking them off and looking back at how much I accomplished. After two years of clinging to this dream and on the verge of slipping away from discouragement and weariness.... I have boxes to check!

It seems that a major lesson God is slamming me with on every front is that I must hang on to Him, to His direction, and to the goals I think He is directing me towards with every fiber of my being. If homeschool is not going well, and it often is not, I am to remember why I am doing it and hang on, my arms wrapped solidly around His promises. If my prayers for others to know and love God seem unanswered, I need to clasp my hands more fervently and repeatedly in supplication. If I feel attacked and misunderstood, I am to dig my fingernails in to what I believe is His guidance and keep my focus not on others but on Him. If I am rejected for the thousandth time, I have a Lord who was rejected much more severely and completely. When I want to give up, I know He understands, because even He asked that if it be possible, the bitter cup He was about to drink could pass him by, yet not "my will, but thy will."

Each time I revise the book it gets better. Each struggle I endure and hang in there, I get stronger. Each prayer of despair I pray is answered, and sometimes I see victory just around the corner..... though the corner is a very very distant corner. I love the triumphant verse from Invictus by Willian Henley,

It matters not how strait the gate
how charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul

but it is not my cry. I cling instead, in weakness, to the master of my fate and the captain of my soul, and I will not let go. Gotta run now, back to my editing.......

"I will not let you go, unless you bless me." Genesis 32:26

PS- keep those votes for Honeybun coming!!!!!

Finishing the race

I was wondering about the term "rat race". Do rats race? I have never seen a rat race, but I have seen them play basketball at our local science center. If they can master that sport, I am sure they could race if they were so inclined.

In researching the etymology of "rat race", I discovered that it was the name of a dance at the same time period as "fox trot" but then came to mean a meaningless, exhausting pursuit such as laboratory rats in an endless maze. Well now THAT is interesting- to morph from joyful dance to futile, endless wandering.... I think many people could relate to the transition from joyful, hopeful embracing life, to mechanical duty and drudgery as hopes and dreams become stale and bump into dead-end reality.

In the movie, Chariots of Fire, Olympian runner Eric Lidell tells his disapproving Christian sister, "When God made me, He made me FAST, and when I run, I feel His pleasure." I too am a runner, and when God made me, He did not make me fast. In most of the many talents God doled out to me, none are quite amazing enough to make pedestrians pause in the cross-walk. However, I love to run, and cajoled my fifty year old mother into running many years ago, shortly after she quit smoking. I remember on that first "run" with her, she huffed and puffed one block and then had to walk. So it was nothing short of miraculous when she entered a marathon just two years later.

Now inspired by my mom, I too was training for the marathon, but I had my own training regimen, which was in sharp contrast to the suggested training schedule. I basically cut it in half. I mean, really, who wants to run 20 miles as a warm up to the real thing? So when it was time to take Mom to the starting line, I was not registered, nor should with any semblance of sanity even think of running that marathon yet.... but of course decided at the starting line, I should.

And as you so correctly anticipated, at mile marker 23, I lay down to die. The end was in sight, but it didn't matter. I was done.
"Go on!" I told my mom,"Leave me here for the vultures to peck my eyeballs out. You go on!"
No, my mother insisted, I could, and should, and would finish the race.
"You may not be able to run, but you can walk," she told me.
And despite my protests, she dragged me to my feet and tugged me along. She was right, I could walk, and after a little while, I could run again, and we crossed the finish line together, holding hands, victorious.

I learned many things from that race. I learned I am missing a bone in my right foot, diagnosed after two weeks of being unable to walk after that race. I learned that mothers are always right. Obey them. Most importantly, I learned that there is something more precious than having wings of eagles that can soar effortlessly to the mountaintops. It is to have wings of a turkey, born aloft by the love of others and maybe even one's own determination to reach the heights of whatever perch God intended I land upon without giving up.
1 Corinthians 9:24
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.