Heaven's Declaration

I have a friend who takes pictures of the sunrise almost every morning and posts them on facebook. It never ceases to cheer me, particularly since he is someone who endured great loss and the picture of hope moves me. I am often up before the sun, but I usually am already busy at work, and don't see the sunrise. Besides, our street is filled with tall trees and the horizon is mostly blocked from view. But this morning when I glanced out the window as I got up, I saw a pretty sunrise with all those beautiful colors that remind me God paints a new picture every morning.

It is not an easy life. There are so many struggles, hurts, misunderstandings that make our view drab and cheerless at times. But it is hard not to see God's message of renewal every morning, when the entire sky is declaring it.

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The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. -Psalms 19:1

Broken

 

Oh how wonderful! Just in time for Thanksgiving, my oven broke! Actually, not all of it broke. Just the top broiler coil seems to have given up the ghost, but I presume it is only a matter of time before the rest follows. The oven/stove/microwave unit is original to the house, so probably 30 years old. I imagine there have been some upgrades to kitchen appliances in the past three decades.

About ten years ago the microwave stopped working. We were very resourceful and have used it as a spice rack. It always surprises guests when they see us pull our spices out of the microwave. So while I don't relish the expense, I really am looking very forward to shopping for a new stove. It is way past time for one. Maybe a new stove will reinvigorate me towards amazing escapades as a cook extraordinaire. A new era is dawning. I can feel it! Maybe instead of just collecting recipes, I will actually use one. That would also be a first in thirty years.

So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful my oven broke. Sometimes things need to break before we understand how badly the new is needed. I think that is what Jesus tells us. We really cannot understand how badly we need God, until we understand how badly broken we are without Him. And let me be clear, by broken, I mean full of sin. Unless we get that, we don't see the need for redemption. As long as we think we are ok, we are like a microwave that is full of spices. We will never accomplish our intended function and will be a poor substitute for what we were created to be. We will be an oven unable to function because half our coils are burnt out. It is good to admit we are broken. The new beginning, the new heart, the new spirit that indwells us is far superior to the old, ragged junk we were limping along with.

I really cannot wait for my new oven.

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Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you. Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness. O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Psalm 51:13-17 ESV)

Story within a Story

I have some wonderful friends and family members who agreed to read my manuscript, before I complete my final edit. I have been working on this project for so long that it is hard to remain objective about it. I received feedback recently from one reader, and she was very perceptive. She told me that she liked how I had written a story within a story. Hmmm. That is true. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but as I think back over my books, they all are really a story within a story. It seems to be a literary device I use subconsciously.

And then I got to thinking, all of us are living stories within a story. The Main Story is about God, and how He created humans in His image, with the power to follow or reject Him. He knew they would be imperfect in their ability to follow Him, and so from the beginning, He devised a way in which the conflicting necessities of justice and mercy would be enacted. From the beginning, He knew He would send a savior to those hopeless people, who would provide the only possible means back to their Creator.

The stories within the Story are the lives of each of us as we make the decision to follow God or to reject Him. Our tales are fraught with struggle, turmoil, victory, defeat, pain, delight, despair, sin, and overcoming. Some of our stories will end in tragedy. Some will end in triumph. 

And the Savior Himself told stories to draw those hopeless humans to Himself. The funny thing is, all His stories were stories within stories too! There was the literal meaning of the story, and then there was the spiritual meaning -- the message that He hoped would capture the heart of His listeners. All His stories work that way. I guess I am learning to write at the hands of a Master.

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He continued, “Do you see how this story works? All my stories work this way. “The farmer plants the Word. Some people are like the seed that falls on the hardened soil of the road. No sooner do they hear the Word than Satan snatches away what has been planted in them. “And some are like the seed that lands in the gravel. When they first hear the Word, they respond with great enthusiasm. But there is such shallow soil of character that when the emotions wear off and some difficulty arrives, there is nothing to show for it. “The seed cast in the weeds represents the ones who hear the kingdom news but are overwhelmed with worries about all the things they have to do and all the things they want to get. The stress strangles what they heard, and nothing comes of it. “But the seed planted in the good earth represents those who hear the Word, embrace it, and produce a harvest beyond their wildest dreams.” (Mark 4:13-20 MSG)

Forget Not all His Benefits

No sooner were the boys both on their way home than I was felled by an extraordinarily bad cold. I found myself unable to muster energy even to take the dogs for a walk, a mutually beloved activity. My throat felt like it had been rubbed with pumice, my nose matched Rudolph's, my eyes were watery and achy, and I would erupt in sneezing fits that tossed me like a rag doll. And this litany of complaints was topped by a very disturbing and encroaching malady...both wrists are in pain that seems to be increasing a little each day. I am willing to give up vacuuming and scrubbing toilets to heal my wrists...but how can I give up drawing and writing? I put braces on both wrists and crawled miserably out of bed this morning. It is raining. How does one plummet so precipitously from the heights of rapture over the Savior's birth celebrated with a house filled with family, to this cavernous emptiness echoing with sneezes and ouches as my aching wrists type?  I can only conclude I am fickle.

I returned from dropping Anders at the airport yesterday and crawled into the recliner with my Galaxy Tab. I spent the whole day drawing on it, and sneezing. Every so often I brushed away tears because I am always sad when my boys leave. Praise God for Asherel and her youth. I still get four years with her. Honeybun planted herself near me. She always hovers near, but particularly when she suspects I am about to dissolve into a blithering blob of hopeless grief that might not remember the dog's dinner time.

Arvo took one look at me and suggested he order pizza for dinner so I didn't need to move. I huddled with my Galaxy Tab, drawing and sneezing. Good thing, I thought, that God is a God of renewal, of mercy, and of redemption. Because otherwise, I would not be climbing out of this pit. Thank Goodness it only requires minimal wrist movement to press the Bible button on my Galaxy Tab.

Psalm 103: 1-5

¹ Praise the LORD, my soul;
   all my inmost being, praise his holy name.
² Praise the LORD, my soul,
   and forget not all his benefits—
³ who forgives all your sins
   and heals all your diseases,
⁴ who redeems your life from the pit
   and crowns you with love and compassion,
⁵ who satisfies your desires with good things
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Tragedy Averted

Normally, I don't use this blog for book reviews, but this is a book that has an important message. I have been reading a classic by Theodore Dreiser, An American Tragedy. It is considered one of the best examples of "pathos" in literature. That is putting it mildly. I had to read it holding it at arm's length while peeking through my fingers. It was compelling and I couldn't put it down, but it was wrenching, as well. In short, it is about a man who plots to murder one girl after falling in love with a second. Christianity is mocked through most of the book, but in the end, in a rather shocking turn around, it is the devout mother and a selfless pastor that are able to finally bring the villain to a true understanding of what he had done, repentance, and peace. No other character in the book shows really any admirable quality. I suspect Dreiser didn't intend that to be the case, based on his sentiments about devout Christians through 9/10 of the book. But in the end, the only character I would want to be were the two Christians who appear at the end of the book.

The book was also compelling because the events were staged in upstate NY where I grew up. My hometown is mentioned, as was the very small town where my folks had a lake house. The hero, who is simultaneously a villain, starts off discontented but very likable. Throughout the book, I am rooting for him, even when he makes horrible, immoral choices. I keep praying he will change, seeing that he is spiraling downward into deeper and more consequential sin.

However, he never sees it, not till the very end of the book when confronted with a loving and uncompromising Christian. I almost threw the book aside in disgust as Christians were mocked, sin was rampant, and undesirable characters seemed to win the day. But now, having finished it, I am so glad I stuck with it. In the end, God wins. And Dreiser was a magnificent writer, somehow making the despicable main character one I sympathized with, struggled with, and prayed would overcome his significant frailties. I think it might be a book everyone should read, because it shows as well as anything I have ever read how small sins balloon into a life of sin. And yet even after a ruinous descent to becoming the handmaiden to Satan, God was there in the end to exhort, rebuke, uplift, and ultimately forgive.

In interviews during his lifetime, Dreiser said that , "Life is an accident from the beginning." He also believed that Christianity might keep our daughters virtuous and has some value for that reason, but it would never last. He could not accept or believe that the teachings of Christ were eternal. I find this very consistent with what I saw through 9/10 of his book, but it cheers me to see that in the final outcome, even this brilliant writer,  at best an agnostic cynic, could only find peace and redemption for his character through Jesus. I am again struck how ultimately, unwittingly perhaps, we all end up proclaiming the power and glory of God .

Isaiah 1: 16-20

 ¹⁶ Wash and make yourselves clean.
   Take your evil deeds out of my sight;
   stop doing wrong.
¹⁷ Learn to do right; seek justice.
   Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
   plead the case of the widow.
 ¹⁸ “Come now, let us settle the matter,”
   says the LORD.
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
   they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red as crimson,
   they shall be like wool.
¹⁹ If you are willing and obedient,
   you will eat the good things of the land;
²⁰ but if you resist and rebel,
   you will be devoured by the sword.”
            For the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Singing of Glory

It was the first blustery cold day of the season as Asherel and I headed off to the Civil War. If you get the chance to see the play, Civil War, I highly recommend it.  I don't know how anyone imagined they could pull off a play about so serious and sad a subject as the Civil War with nearly every line sung. It is a musical. Somehow musicals bring to mind subjects like Mary Poppins; not horrific subjects like slavery or the carnage of war. But it worked.  It was very sad, very moving, and while Asherel didn't learn any facts of the war she didn't already know, she perhaps experienced just a touch of the despair of those times.

I came home and was exhausted. I went to bed early. I was mourning for our country. For what we had done to Africans in enslaving them; for what we had done to each other in fighting the Civil War. And as a people, we had been able to justify all of it. Honestly, I don't know how God manages to hold His hand from wiping us all out once and for all, despite promises to Noah. Individually and collectively,  we have a lot to answer for. Before going to bed, I saw a picture from a friend on Facebook. It was of a tiny baby, oxygen and feeding tubes coming from his little form. He was covered with ant bites. The baby had been rescued from a dumpster.Depression was crouching at my door.

I cycle continually through the Bible. I am now back to the Old Testament, and just finished working my way through Leviticus. This is not the easiest book to read word by word. It is filled with laws, some very nit picky and tedious and some that no matter how I try, I cannot relate to my life (thou wilt not have sex with an animal). Oh really? Good thing there is a law against that! And the reward for slogging through Leviticus is you get to read Numbers. Numbers is filled with, yes, numbers. Numbers of all the tribes of Israel, of all the subsets of the tribes, and of all the animals, bowls, and cooking utensils of the tribes. I would have to say that Numbers is the dryest book of the Bible. But if I manage to faithfully stick with it, invariably I come across some buried nugget that makes the traumas of the day recede a little from the forefront of my mind.

In Numbers 14, The Israelites have just sent Caleb and Joshua along with ten other spies out to explore the Promised Land, which they are just on the verge of reaching. The ten other spies return to tell their people that the land is inhabited by giants, and they can never hope to enter the land God promised them. "We will all die in the wilderness," they moaned. Caleb and Joshua believed God, believed in the promises of God and told the people, "We can do this! Remember who fights with us!" But the pessimists won, and then comes the part that struck me. God tells them, (paraphrase) "Fine. You don't wish to follow my commands.I guess a few miracles like the sea opening up to swallow your enemies, or water from a rock, or manna from heaven, are just not enough proof that I am able. You think I have brought you out here to die in the wilderness. I will give you exactly what you claim I am doing to you.  I won't let you enter the land. You will die in the wilderness. I will let your kids in, because it's not their fault they are saddled with parents like you, and of course Joshua and Caleb, who believed and trusted in me, but you will die exactly the way you thought you would."

And so they wander forty years in the desert on a trip that normally would have taken a week.We are told none of those doubters entered the Promised Land. I hate to admit it, but I can relate to those grumbling, disillusioned, frightened, pessimistic Israelites. God reveals Himself time and time again to me, in miracles that I  have even written down (It will be my second book....), and yet, I continue to sink into despair when life doesn't seem to go the way I think it should. I find doubt and dismay a little too easy to fall back on. But God makes it very clear in the otherwise rather drab book of Numbers- God is not pleased with Pessimism.

The Civil War play ended with the whole cast singing about Glory. It was not the glory of victory, because the victory of the war brought about the reality of brothers having killed brothers, and a nation unified by law, but divided in spirit. It was the glory of a horrendous wrong made right, of a God-given right being restored- liberty to all.  It was the glory of optimism, of survival, of trusting in God when the whole world seemed to be bent only on evil.
"Did you learn anything new?" asked Asherel as we drove home.
"It is not so much that I learned anything," I said, "I think the point was to experience the horror of it."
But not to wallow in it, because after repentance and immense suffering, they sang of Glory.

Numbers 14:
²⁸ So tell them, ‘As surely as I live, declares the LORD, I will do to you the very thing I heard you say: ²⁹ In this wilderness your bodies will fall—every one of you twenty years old or more who was counted in the census and who has grumbled against me. ³⁰ Not one of you will enter the land I swore with uplifted hand to make your home, except Caleb son of Jephunneh and Joshua son of Nun.

Psalm 106:46-48

⁴⁶ He caused all who held them captive
   to show them mercy.
 ⁴⁷ Save us, LORD our God,
   and gather us from the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name
   and glory in your praise.

A Message from the Future

Comer struggled to get in the car yesterday when I picked up he and Evelyn from the Assisted Living home.
"How are you today?" I asked.
"Oh fine except these legs are just not working the way they used to. You know I was always athletic. Now I can barely walk. I never thought I'd end up like this." 
This was uncharacteristic of Comer. He doesn't usually complain, at least not around me.
"Did you ever think you would make it to 93?" I asked.
"No, there were days in the war I didn't think I'd make it to that evening."
"Well maybe being a little weak in the legs is not a bad payoff."
"No, maybe not."
I had to scream every word during our outing, or he couldn't hear it. My throat was sore by the end of our time together. When we pulled up to the fast food window, I screamed our order. The cashier stepped back, with the force of my words.
"Mom," reminded Asherel quietly, "You don't need to shout to her." 
"Oh, that's true..." I said, glancing in the mirror at Comer and Evelyn, smiling and holding hands as usual.  "Thank you, " I whispered, as the cashier handed back the credit card.

I read in the paper that scientists think they have discovered a particle that moves faster than the speed of light. This throws Einstein out on the curb with the other discarded certainties of human discovery. But the really captivating part of that discovery is if it is true, then time travel is possible. Einstein had always said that if anything could be found to travel faster than light, then we could send a telegram to the past.  I thought about that. I could send a telegram to me yesterday before I used my finger to clean the inside of the sharp container and I would not be wearing a bandaid on a throbbing thumb today. Think of all the accidents that have had devastating consequences that could be avoided, and all the severed relationships that could be mended as words and actions were all taken back...or deleted as though they never happened. Think of all the wisdom of the years that we could write down to warn and guide our younger selves, our selves that were athletes before  the onslaught of time and muscle decay.

  Knowing what we know, what would we do differently? And if we did it differently, because of that time traveling telegram, when we reached the point in the future when the telegram would be sent, it would not need to be sent anymore, but if it was never sent, then the past would be unchanged....and....you see the problem. In my case, there would be too many telegrams that would need to be sent. About one every ten minutes.

"Vicky, this is a message from your future. I would strongly recommend you do not do what you are about to do."
"Vicky, this is another message from your future. I would highly suggest you do not say what you are about to say."
"Vicky, this is yet another message from your future. I want to warn you that your future is taking up so much time warning you about all the stupid things you are doing in your past, that when you get here, all you will be doing is writing warning messages. Not much of a life, if you ask me."

So God has solved the problem. He put every warning in a Book that could be adapted to every situation. And then, traveling faster than light, He looked back at what He had created, and He shook His head.
  "They mean well, sometimes, but they are not paying as much attention to the Book as I had hoped."

And so He knew what He had to do from the Beginnning, because being faster than Light, He could see even from that moment how badly we were going to manage even a simple task like not tasting a forbidden fruit.  So He arranged a telegram from the Future, that would travel all the way back to our Past, and all Pasts, and dwell within us to remind us all the time what we needed to remember so that our Future would not be one of continual regret, writing messages of all the things we should have done. And He saw that even then, we would blow it. So He sent the most perfect Solution of all creation. He sent Redemption and Atonement based not on what we could do, which we had proven was prone to disaster, but on what He could do. And the only requirement of us was Faith. Why faith, I often wonder. Here is what I think. You cannot take a leap of faith without humility. It is pride that makes us think we can achieve perfection. Pride that thinks we can be God. Pride that thinks we don't need anyone but ourselves. And time is the greatest humbler of all. None of us think those athletic legs will one day no longer be able to walk. All of us recoil from arrogance, and most of us don't see it in ourselves. Why do we all have such a negative response to arrogance? I think it is because it is in the end what separates us, from each other, from God.


I would write more, but I am getting telegrams by the minute from my future.....


2 Kings 19:22-23
²² Who is it you have ridiculed and blasphemed?
   Against whom have you raised your voice
and lifted your eyes in pride?
   Against the Holy One of Israel!
²³ By your messengers
   you have ridiculed the Lord.

The Two Faces of a Swan

Do you ever get that message on your computer as you wait an interminable time for a page to load: "Not Responding."
"No kidding! I never dreamed it was something you weren't doing properly, my dear Dell, I just thought that God had put a stop to time."
The computer doesn't understand sarcasm however, and remains unresponsive until it decides it is good and ready to begin working again.

I don't love lack of response. I don't love it in computers, in my children, or in my prayers. It I ask a question or make a request, I expect an answer. And given the exceptionally rapid connection between my sensory and motor neurons, I expect an answer quickly. Some people refer to my personality type as "hyper". i prefer to think of it as "super conductivity between nerve synapses."

I headed to the swan lake a second time yesterday, hoping again that my prayers for the lonely male swan would be answered. I prayed that his mate would have returned. Instead, the lake was swarming with boats, and men with long poles with nets on the end, circling around the poor swan. I hurried to the water's edge where a woman with a large, fancy camera stood filming. I presumed she was a reporter of some kind.

"What's going on?" I asked.
"They are trying to catch him," she said, "He's injured and they hope to bring him to the humane society."
He looked fine to me, though frightened, as he continued to elude his captors. I presumed that since he didn't fly away, he was unable to fly. I know when he came to the lake, he had been injured in some way as the Neighborhood Association had gotten the pair of swans from a Bird Rehab center.
"He looks ok," I said.
"This side of him does," she answered, "But a snapping turtle got him. Ripped off half his face on the other side."
The swan turned and I saw what she was talking about. I saw how capturing the swan would be a kindness.
(This is not exactly the answer to prayer I was going for, I whispered to God.)
"What happened to the mate?" I asked, choking back tears, "Did the turtle kill her?"
"No, she flew away before this happened."
She flew away!? That ungrateful hussy.
"The male swan will often starve himself to death if the mate leaves. They mate for life," she said.
I knew then what had happened. The swan I had seen moping for his mate all week, never leaving the center rock in the lake, had stopped eating. His strength gone, he had succumbed to the advances of a snapping turtle. I was almost certain turtles never attacked grown swans, only babies. He must have already been weak.
I watched a little while longer, but unable to stand it any more, headed back home. I didn't want to write about this. It makes me unbearably sad. But it is impossible to not write about what fills my heart.

I am reading (again) Daniel Deronda by George Elliot. It is a great classic, and one everyone should read, as soon as they finish my book, I am Listening with a Broken Ear. In it, the protagonist is tormented by her own guilt over a choice she made that improved her life, but at the expense of others. She asks a friend, who has unwittingly become  her conscience: what would be best- to be miserable oneself or to be the cause of another's misery? He answers immediately, not knowing the specifics of her situation, that the first is far better.
"But what if you have no choice?" she asks.
"Then," he tells her, "Do everything you can to spread goodness. If you can't help the one you harmed, then perhaps you can help others."

I do believe this is the only antidote to the horror of life. There are two sides of life, and sometimes it is the beautiful face of a swan, but sometimes it turns and the destruction, and suffering, and agonies of loneliness, betrayal,and despair are exposed. I suppose first one should decide whether to be the female swan that flew away, or the lonely, ruined male she left behind. I pray that whenever I can, I choose not to consciously inflict pain on others. And if the choices I make have led to the irreversible pain of others, the best I can do now is try to find ways to bring joy to the world I have yet to encounter. Horrifying as it is, it is better to be the ruined, dying swan.

I liked the symbol of the swans, I told God, lying in bed feeling depressed, all the way until the mate flew away. And did the poor swan who was left really have to go through all that agony? Why do your lessons have to include pain?

God didn't answer. Instead, He put me to sleep, and sent me a dream. It was a dream so beautiful, so hopeful, so redemptive that I didn't want to wake up. And when I did wake up, I could not remember the dream, only its joy.

1 Corinthians 10:23-25

²³ “I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. ²⁴ No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.

Piles

But it was free!
I gazed morosely out the front door window.
The pile of wood chips sat for day #2 in our front yard. Right next to the property line of the new neighbor. A huge pile. Like a mountain. A mountain of work that I was told I should not touch. There were big plans for this pile, beyond the capabilities of a mere woman. A man in a truck had driven by and offered to dump this pile on our lawn for free! And now it sat, mocking me.


After a day of biting my tongue, I asked the One who had allowed the free pile to enter our domain, "Where shall I spread the pile?"
"I will get to it today," said the One, "Please don't touch the pile."
The moon shone bright on the free pile that night.
The next day, every time I passed the front door, the free pile was grinning at me. The pile and I both knew that piles, no matter how large, tend to fade from consciousness the more days they sit there.

We all have them. Sometimes they are physical piles- laundry, dishes, papers to grade, books to read, unfinished projects of Sargent Pepper Lonely Heart Club band jackets made of duct tape that cost Mothers a pretty penny piled hopefully in the closet, homework, dust, clothes that don't fit anymore. Sometimes they are mental piles- the daily practice that has not occurred in over a week, the bookstores to call to talk into stocking a book, the political candidate credentials to read in order to make an informed vote, the volunteer opportunities lined neatly up in the back of our heads, the kindness, potential good deeds, and patience stored away that one day will be retrieved...Sometimes they are spiritual piles- the bible verses to commit to memory some day soon, the daily reading of God's word and encouragement, the daily alone time for meditation and prayer.


Risking wrath at 4:00, I went to the One who had promised the free pile would be spread after lunch.
"About that pile...the one I am not allowed to touch...I can abide by that for one more day. But after that, I don't think I will have the will power to resist anymore."
The One had the good grace to chuckle, and I noticed a few minutes later, was working on the free pile.


Brother John sent photos of his street, with the flooded homes now emerged from the water. On the front lawns were piles and piles of a lifetime of possessions. Ruined possessions.
One neighbor wrote, "I hope they take that pile away soon. I can't bear to see twenty years of my life ruined on my lawn."


I called a bookstore in the flood zone of Binghamton, the town beside my brothers. There would be no bookstores open yet in my brother's flooded town...if there were ever any bookstores to open again in my brother's flooded town.
"I am an author who lived most of my life there," I told the bookstore owner, "I was wondering if I could stock my books with you and donate a portion of the sales to the flood relief. If there are any sales...."
With my husband still unemployed, I can't do a whole lot more. Nonetheless, the book store owner was grateful and would add my book to her pile of inventory. A good pile, I hope. A pile with promise that would disappear perhaps more rapidly than our free pile steaming now like a pile of compost.


So, with the pile staring at me all day, I had piles on my mind. I have learned that God works through visual images, through symbols, not only in Biblical times, but in my life today. A word study of "piles" in the Bible is very interesting. There are basically two kinds of piles- piles of rubble and destruction from an angry fed up God, and piles of remembrance of the miraculous salvation of God. Sin, redemption. Destruction, Salvation. Rubble, Remembrance. I lay in bed this morning thinking of what kind of character I was piling up, day after day. Which kind of pile will I be...one that people would desire to have carted away as quickly as possible, or one that would be remembered with fondness, with love? I better get working on the pile I want to be, I thought, glancing out at the free pile of wood chips in the front yard.

Leviticus 26:30-31
³⁰ I will destroy your high places, cut down your incense altars and pile your dead bodies on the lifeless forms of your idols, and I will abhor you. ³¹ I will turn your cities into ruins and lay waste your sanctuaries, and I will take no delight in the pleasing aroma of your offerings. 

Genesis 31:44-46, 48
⁴⁴ Come now, let’s make a covenant, you and I, and let it serve as a witness between us.”  ⁴⁵ So Jacob took a stone and set it up as a pillar. ⁴⁶ He said to his relatives, “Gather some stones.” So they took stones and piled them in a heap, and they ate there by the heap.^..
 48 Laban said, “This heap is a witness between you and me today.” ... “May the LORD keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other. 

2 Chronicles 31:5-6

⁵ As soon as the order went out, the Israelites generously gave the firstfruits of their grain, new wine, olive oil and honey and all that the fields produced. They brought a great amount, a tithe of everything. ⁶ The people of Israel and Judah who lived in the towns of Judah also brought a tithe of their herds and flocks and a tithe of the holy things dedicated to the LORD their God, and they piled them in heaps.

When You Walk Through the Storm

We stepped onto the beach for one last sand sculpture, one last skim boarding , but the sky was black. Only the outer bands were to touch Hilton Head, but the sky was inky, perilously dark against the sea that still glinted with reflections of sun peeking from the other end of the sky. We had just unloaded our things from our beach cart when God decided we needed just a taste of a hurricane. Rain and wind exploded out of the blackness, so strong that we had trouble walking against it. Chairs and coolers and people's beach toys and towels were picked up with the now bullet pieces of sand, and were flying down the beach. We snatched our things and raced back to the car.
"That wasn't so bad," said Arvo.
"The rain was going sideways," countered Asherel.
The rest of the day was spent in the condo watching the rain, torrential at times.

Why did we stay, why were we not fleeing even the outer edges of this storm, my friends asked.

Because that evening, we were to go have dinner at a restaurant with a band that played 4 straight hours of Beatles. Asherel had been looking forward to it all week. When we arrived at 6:30, the rain finally had let up. There were only 3 or 4 tables of customers. It was clear they had braved the hurricane to hear the Beatles band too. Asherel munched on fish and chips while the band played, and took requests from the three tables of fans.
"Wow," the band said, as they took our sometimes obscure requests,"These are REAL Beatles fans."
"Here comes the sun!" called out a boy.
"We don't do that one during hurricanes," said the band.

We stayed for over two hours. It was a fitting and wonderful cap to our week at the beach. And in a week, our vacation reflected the story of life:

Anticipation, preparation, born to a new place, experiencing all the joys and wonders of life, building, creating, working and playing, family. Looming in the distance, a fearful threat, adversity, even terror. Reliance and trust and prayer to God, the fearful threat rages. Singing with delight in the midst of the storm. Awakening, reborn, the dreadful storm gone, birds singing, the skies blue again.

God's messages of redemption and restoration are never ending.

To those still to endure this storm, I pray for all of you.

Luke 8:23-25 NIV

As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Master, Master, we're going to drown!"
He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. "Where is your faith?" he asked his disciples.
In fear and amazement they asked one another, "Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him."

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Criminal on the loose

Asherel and I had to crouch down to keep the helicopter from giving us an inadvertent haircut. We were on our daily walk with the dogs. Something was up.

When we returned home, there was a message on the answering machine from the police. An armed robbery had occurred not far from us and the suspect had escaped into a forest that ultimately ends at our neighborhood.
"Stay inside," warned the box on the counter.
I locked the doors, and envisioned what it must be like to be a criminal on the run in a forest with dogs and helicopters in hot pursuit.

For some reason, while I have never had any desire to be a criminal, I have occasionally plotted out what I would do if I were being pursued by dogs and helicopters. A forest would be a good place to hide, and would be choice number one. Helicopters would be unlikely to spot me through the foliage, and dogs might be confused by the variety of scents. I think I would climb a tree and find a large knot in the trunk and crawl in. Of course, then I would be in danger from the nasty raccoon curled up in the hole so I would be sure before robbing a house that I was current on my rabies vaccination. Although....if the hole were filled with copperheads, there is no venom vaccine, so I would likely die twice. Once from the poison and once from the total ick factor of a swarm of copperheads underfoot.

It just seems easier to pursue an honest life.

And while the criminal mind seems so alien to me, I think all of us have the potential to be criminals. In a sense, we all are. I have always been struck by the verse in the Bible where Jesus reminds us that if we have ever called our brethren "fool", we have committed sin equal to murder and without His mercy and forgiveness, are in danger of Hell. If that is the criteria for being tossed into the Lake of Fire, it is pretty clear most of us better be packing marshmallows and hotdogs for the eternal roast awaiting us....

But I know that by the redemptive act of Jesus' death, and my acceptance of that gift, I am not condemned, even though I deserve to be. And that should produce something in me that allows me to think of the criminal hiding in the forest with compassion and prayer. We would all be hiding in the forest, fruitlessly, if it were not for Jesus.

At the end of the day, the phone rang, and my answering machine assured me that the "situation has been resolved. You can unlock your doors, breathe a sigh of relief, and come out of your hidey holes." (Or something to that effect.)
Which we did.... but not because a criminal was caught. But because we all are caught, and redeemed if we choose to be.

Matthew 5:21-23 (New International Version)

²¹"You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' ²²But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, 'Raca, is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell.

1 John 3:14-16 (New International Version)

¹⁴We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers. Anyone who does not love remains in death. ¹⁵Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him.

¹⁶This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.

Joy covers joy

The final morning at Hilton Head, I got up really early so I could have one last glorious bike ride on the beach before the 10 am checkout time. The tide had just started to go out so the riding was not easy in softer sand. Still, it was quiet and the beach was nearly empty. I had seen it all this vacation- Portugese Man of War, ocean alligator, herons close enough to touch, live sting rays, dolphins, the Great Pyramid in sand... there was nothing left to see. God had showered me with abundant visions to carry for the year, like a starter ember glowing so the fire could be rekindled should I ever need it. I was content.... and tired. The sand was deep and I had awoken by 6 every morning that week so I would not miss the glory of the lovely empty beach by bicycle.

And then I noticed a speck on the sand, right at the surf line. It looked like a turtle.
"UH-uh," I said, laughing, "I will not be fooled again this year!"

Last year, I had been biking in the early morning, and seen a baby turtle. With amazement, I stopped my bike and was exultant in seeing my first live baby sea turtle. I followed him as he trudged across the sand, and took some pictures, and then chucked him past the surf. Later I met a wildlife official, and told him what I had just seen. He said it could not have been a sea turtle as they were not hatching yet. I smugly showed him the photo, insisting it was a baby sea turtle. It was not. It was a fresh water terrapin. With horror, I realized that I had not only NOT saved a sea turtle from the sea gulls, I had chucked a fresh water baby to his death. The kind man told me terrapin like sea water too and so I had not killed it. He showed me the very obvious (now) claws on the photo of the front legs of my turtle. Sea turtles have flippers, not claws on toes. How could I have missed that, stupido?

But this time I was not going to be fooled. Iwasn't even going to stop.
"You can't fool me this time!" I shouted to God, who finds it humorous at times to mess with my complacency.
I rode by, but then circled back. Even a baby terrapin was worth a picture.
I knew baby sea turtles only cross the sand at night. By day, their dark bodies against the light sand would be instantly snatched up by the flocks of hungry sea birds. Still, I didn't see terrapin often either.

I parked my bike and walked over. The turtle's little eyes were closed. It seemed to be dead. And then I saw them.... on those front feet were not clawed toes, but flippers. and the back legs ended in paddle like appendages. This was not a terrapin. This was a sea turtle... a baby sea turtle, but alas, a dead one.

I gently picked him up and he began squirming furiously. He was alive!
"You crazy turtle!" I squawked, "What were you doing sleeping in on the most important day of your life? You were supposed to hit the ocean hours ago! I am not sure you understand the significance of your endangered status. Look, I think it might not be legal, but I am helping you along. I will get you into the water, but from that point on, it is up to you."

I walked him the few feet short of the surf he had almost managed on his own, and gently placed him in the tide as it whooshed back. He began paddling, the tide carried him back in, but then he ducked under a wave and was beyond the first few pounding surf lines.

As the speck disappeared into the ocean I called out, "And be careful! There are alligators in these waters!"

I smiled as I headed off in the peace of a blossoming day. I had been certain there could be no more glorious joys awaiting me. God had redeemed the sorrow of the past in so many ways....what a tender and loving message for him to send to me now.

There are times I think memory loss could be a blessing- to be able to forget all the awful things we have said and done.... but God shows me constantly a better way- the way of redemption, and even promises that all those years that were squandered in foolishness will be returned to me in inexplicable eternity.

"Swim baby swim!" I called to my turtle as he paddled to his home.

Joel 2:25 (New International Version)

²⁵ "I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten—

Weaving Heavenly Hills

We are going to the lovely mountains of Asheville for an Agility Trial this weekend. Honeybun has done one trial thus far, and did very well, but only did a "jumpers" class. All she had to negotiate were jumps and tunnels. This weekend she will also do the "standard" class- where she will have to jump, tunnel, go up and down a pivoting "teeter", up and down a 9 foot A-frame, "pause" and lie down on command on a low table, and finally (drum roll), weave in and out of a series of 12 poles entering from the right and not skipping any.... the dreaded weaves.

While even for most dogs this feat is daunting, it is particularly amazing for Honeybun. For the one or two people on the planet that don't know the story of Honeybun, my book is hopefully going to be published soon (the famous "soon" of a few blogs ago which is defined as "somewhere between now and eternity.")

We found Honeybun on a roadside, nearly dead of starvation and recent motherhood, not to mention tick infestation. We didn't want another dog, but apparently God had other plans and wanted to introduce us in a dramatic way to the world of animal rescue. Upon recovering her health, Honeybun became vicious, first trying to kill our other dog Lucky, and then determined to kill any visitor who dared ring the doorbell. Despite desperately wanting to get out of this impossible situation, I was stuck by a stinging conscience that kept insisting even this discarded, vicious, money-pit of a dumped mongrel had value in God's eyes and I could not send her off to Animal Control and certain death. And then Hollow Creek Farm found me. Hollow Creek Farm was created on the 8th day, a little known fact that the Bible neglects to mention. As soon as God saw what a mess we humans were doing with our job of overseeing the animals He put in our care, He saw the need for Hollow Creek Farm(HCF). HCF came for several months to help teach me that not only does every dog deserve a chance, but the ones that are extended such grace often surprise you with blessings far beyond what you could imagine.

Not only was Honeybun completely healed and rehabilitated, but she is now training and competing in Agility trials, off leash, dogs and peoples surrounding her, and she follows the directions of a 12 year old, Asherel, to do all those crazy things I listed in the first paragraph.

I hope she does well. I hope she manages to weave the 12 weave poles perfectly, though she has never done them perfectly on the first try at practice....

However, both Asherel and I know that every day that passes with this little dog who is now Lucky's best friend, and who greets everyone with a wagging tail is a miracle. And maybe the biggest miracle is the lesson that nothing God creates is junk. It all has value, and a purpose, and whatever we do for the least of us, we do for Him.

Matthew 10:42
And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward.