Asking Permission

     "Ma'am, do you have a license to fly in the mall?" the security officer asked, his hand on his walkie talkie, in case these dangerous 14 year olds decided to bolt.
     The kids held their helicopters and looked down, allowing their fearless coach to deal with this unexpected bump in the road to Science Olympiad success. Could we go to jail for unauthorized rubber powered helicopter flying in the mall?
     "No," I said.
     "I am afraid I am going to have to shut you down," he said, self importantly, puffing out his blue chest. It was like we were going to have to be shutting down a nuclear reactor the way he said it, rather than just opening a cardboard box and putting the 4 gram copters away.
     "I did ask permission," I added. I did not add that I had asked permission last year, "And no one ever got back to me. I left several messages."
That was true, and in reality, I was miffed that my request hadn't even been acknowledged.
     Next I employed the very best tactic when one wants to appear like one is confident and in control of the situation. One sucks up to the person who is really in charge.
     "Do you have a name and number of someone that might return my calls? I understand you are just doing your job. We just hoped that since the mall didn't open til 10 it would be ok to be here."
     "Well the mall gets a little funny about flying things while people are near. It could cause problems, you know."
     Like what, for crying out loud? These are 4 gram helicopters of soft balsa with rubber band motors. I didn't say that, but I thought it.
    "So who can I ask?"
     "Well. I can ask Tina for you, she's in charge, but I am pretty sure it won't be allowed."
     "Tina! That is the person who never returned my calls! Can I leave you my cell number and have her call me?"
     The kids were quietly packing up our dangerous helicopters, disappointed, as we have yet to have a whole lot of success in our flight practices.  We can practice in a nearby church, but only at limited times since they are so heavily used and they also don't want helicopters buzzing on parishioners heads. We need tall ceilings, like 3 or 4 stories tall, with no obstructions that could trap our copters. It has been nearly impossible to find this. We had hoped we could sneak in the mall during mall walking time before the stores open, but now that door was slammed in our criminal faces.
     Asking permission is at times a real drag on life. The word permission only occurs 12 times in the Bible, and so I can only conclude that asking permission is not a heavenly priority. In fact, in 11 of the 12 cases, it is someone (usually a righteous Godly one) asking permission of some tyrant who is in charge. The only example of permission being granted by a righteous ruler is when the demons who inhabited a man asked Jesus if they could be granted permission to instead inhabit a herd of pigs. Jesus grants them permission and then the pigs all race to a cliff edge, plunge over, and die. I have never understood that story. Were the demons making the pigs jump to their death? Were the pigs trying to escape the demons? And why on earth did the demons want to inhabit the pigs in the first place? Since I can't answer any of those questions, I will focus on the authority aspect of the whole thing. The demons got that part right.
     The only one with real authority is God, and yet how often do I ask Him permission to do anything? Most of the time, I just do it, and hope He approves. Maybe if I asked more frequently, life would proceed more smoothly. I suspect He is often shaking His head and telling the angels, "I am afraid you need to go in there again and shut her down."
     The angels then shake their heads, their halos tipping back and forth sadly, "You would think by now she would learn. She is so impulsive. Shall we send her into the herd of pigs?"
     "Now, now, Angelic host, let's see if we can bring her along more gently for now."
     "Sigh. OK, Lord, she's your creation. Let's go bail her out, sisters...."
     The next morning, I wrote to the church to ask permission to fly our copters.

Mark 5: 12-13
¹² The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” ¹³ He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.
    

Finding Balance

The problem with unlimited possibilities is that there are too many parameters for a limited mind to consider. This year, the Science Olympiad helicopter can be built out of any material, and the only limiting factor is the rotors can't be longer than 35 cm. The rubber motor (think: twisted rubber band) could be any length and weight. We could have a 500 foot rubber band motoring our copter if we wanted. The organizers were anticipating flights of 3-4 minutes. So naturally, our team set about building a copter with a long motor stick to handle the long motor we intended to use. Ben's copter flew well, though not as long as we hoped. The torque in the motor stick seemed to be absorbing the energy. He will need to figure out how to brace it without adding much weight. Asherel's motor stick was a good foot or so long, and very sturdy. She weighed her copter- over 7 grams! Almost double the weight of Ben's. In the rubber powered copter world, this is a machine that needs a little Lean Cuisine. We thought it was not likely this behemoth would leave the ground even with the huge motor. We were correct.

And this is the essence of the problem for the helicopter designer. Weight vs. stability. Strong helicopters tend to be heavy. Heavy weights require massive energy to lift off. This is why elephants don't fly. Light helicopters are immensely fragile. It doesn't take much to get them off the ground, but it also doesn't take much to snap their skinny little spars and motor sticks, sending hard working Science Olympiads crying weeweewee all the way home. In addition, light copters tend to flex, absorbing energy that is needed for lift. The perfect balance has to be found.

Balance in life... Every school year I struggle with the perfect balance. I know what it takes to get a kid through all those highschool courses, but I also know that when they finish highschool and head off to college, they leave me behind. This is how it should be, but still, I want those fleeting days remaining with us to be joyful. How can they be joyful when one is required to learn quadratic equations and the process by which ions in the thylakoid lumen are pumped throught the ATP synthase to become ATP? There just aren't enough hours in the day to learn everything that needs to be learned, or to do all the wonderful extra activities that one yearns to do. And not only was the helicopter not flying, but the trebuchet arm was now hitting the edge of the frame and it might take major re-engineering to correct this problem. Too much! Too much! Somehow, impossibly, in my opinion, one must find a balance.

There are countless examples in the Bible of God's leaders collapsing before Him, and saying, the task you gave me is too much. Many, including the great prophet Elijah cry out, Just kill me now. At one time or another, we all quake with the impossibility of life's demands. God agrees. Often it is too much. We can't do it. But He also reminds us, we don't need to do it by ourselves. Again, I am reminded that God's strength, added to my weakness equals success. He may define success differently, but really, as I look at the results of my labor, and compare it with the results of His in the glorious blazing background of Autumn, I know whose definition I better be using.


Mark 10: 26-31
²⁶ The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, “Who then can be saved?”  ²⁷ Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.”
 ²⁸ Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”
   ²⁹ “Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel ³⁰ will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. ³¹ But many who are first will be last, and the last first.”

Forcing the New Into the Old

Modify what we already had made, or build a new one? The only difference in this year's Science Olympiad requirements from last year, was the size of the trebuchet-- ours was 10 centimeters too big in all dimensions. Still, it had been a great trebuchet, shooting as far as the National winning treb. I saw no need to scrap it altogether, and it seemed to me,  time wise and cost wise, this was the best option.

My husband, Arvo, would be the one working with the kids since this part of the coaching involved the use of power equipment that could remove a body part before you can say "ouch". My team was skeptical about rebuilding. However, in the end, they agreed to give it a shot. It is still early enough in the season that if it didn't work, we could build a new one. They could devote all their creative energies then to building an ingenious Trebuchet flinging arm using advanced calculus and physics to determine the perfect arm design. And if that failed, we could fall back on the tried and true: luck.

From the beginning, things did not go swimmingly. Asherel had covered our old treb with beautiful duct tape designs. We had been very proud of how our treb had been by far the prettiest treb at the State contest. However, the duct tape covered the screws that we needed to unscrew to dismantle the treb in order to chop it down 10 cm.  She and Ben had to first cut off the duct tape around each screw.  They had hoped to cut down the size with minimal dismantling, thus chose to cut out the middle of each of the treb's legs. It seemed, in theory, like a very good idea. The reality (like always!) was not quite so wonderful. The top of the legs must have been slightly off from the bottoms of the legs, and it was very hard to get a completely clean, parallel cut. Thus now, the treb legs didn't quite line up. We think we can shim, and glue, and bolt in such a way that it might work. We are willing to put one more day into trying, but the full afternoon of a Saturday wrenched from the talon grip of leisure time ended a little disappointingly.

Sometimes, you can't force the new into the old. Jesus knew that. He has a wonderful parable just on that very topic! He tells his disciples that they can't pour new wine into old wineskins. If they attempt to do so, He advises, the old wineskins will burst and all the wine will be wasted.  I pondered this while I was guzzling new wine after our day of Trebuchet dismemberment. I could see His concern in not wasting one drop of wine, however I think the disciples, being poor men were interested in frugality. Wine skins were not easy to make.


This is the conversation the Bible did not record:
"Jesus, what about the proverb 'waste not, want not?' We have oodles of these old wineskins. Surely you are not telling us to toss those away just because they are a little cracked?"
"That is exactly what I am telling you. HINT: think fermentation. What do you think will happen when we pour that new wine in the old skin?"
"We save money and can put it towards that new Ferrari I have my eye on?"
"Remember, I never teach you things on a purely physical level. There is always a spiritual message."
"Yeh, money grows on trees, at least for you. Remember when one is not God, money is a little harder to come by. Let us just give the old skins a good old college try."
"I will put it to you plainly just this once. Scribe, please don't record this in the Book. I prefer my people try to figure it out for themselves. The lesson seems to stick better. Ok you thick headed disciples, listen up. The old covenant is represented by those old wineskins. This is the covenant where if you are perfect, you get to be with me. But if you are not, you have to keep repenting and sacrificing to try to restore my good favor. Let's have a show of hands on which of you perfectly followed my old Covenant laws? I thought so. Now, the new wine is the New Covenant- the covenant of faith, where the one atoning sacrifice of Jesus is the only one you need for all eternity. You can't go back to the old Covenant of working towards God, when the new better way of faith in God's perfect, substitutionary sacrifice is bubbling up. The law is no longer external...it is now written on your very heart. Yes, Thomas, you have a question?"
"Does that hurt?"
"Well of course it does, but believe me, it hurt Me, more than it will hurt you. You will have to give up some things, but there is no gain without pain."

The team and I looked at the dismantled Trebuchet.
"I don't think this is going to work," said Ben.
"Maybe not," I agreed, "But let's give it the old college try!"

Hebrews 8

¹ Now the main point of what we are saying is this: We do have such a high priest, who sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, ² and who serves in the sanctuary, the true tabernacle set up by the Lord, not by a mere human being.  ³ Every high priest is appointed to offer both gifts and sacrifices, and so it was necessary for this one also to have something to offer. ⁴ If he were on earth, he would not be a priest, for there are already priests who offer the gifts prescribed by the law. ⁵ They serve at a sanctuary that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven. This is why Moses was warned when he was about to build the tabernacle: “See to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.”^{[a] 6} But in fact the ministry Jesus has received is as superior to theirs as the covenant of which he is mediator is superior to the old one, since the new covenant is established on better promises.
 ⁷ For if there had been nothing wrong with that first covenant, no place would have been sought for another. ⁸ But God found fault with the people and said^[b]:
   “The days are coming, declares the Lord,
   when I will make a new covenant
with the people of Israel
   and with the people of Judah.
⁹ It will not be like the covenant
   I made with their ancestors
when I took them by the hand
   to lead them out of Egypt,
because they did not remain faithful to my covenant,
   and I turned away from them,
            declares the Lord.
¹⁰ This is the covenant I will establish with the people of Israel
   after that time, declares the Lord.
I will put my laws in their minds
   and write them on their hearts.
I will be their God,
   and they will be my people.
¹¹ No longer will they teach their neighbor,
   or say to one another, ‘Know the Lord,’
because they will all know me,
   from the least of them to the greatest.
¹² For I will forgive their wickedness
   and will remember their sins no more.”
 ¹³ By calling this covenant “new,” he has made the first one obsolete; and what is obsolete and outdated will soon disappear.

Finishing Well

It is finished.

The NC State Science Olympiad is over, medals awarded to the top 10 teams since there was a college arena filled with teams (Asherel 's helicopter team placed 6th, and her Trebuchet team a surprising 5th).  Their devices didn't do the best they could do, but they didn't do the worst either, and for her first state competition, she is pleased. I am tired. But I am less tired from the wonderful, early rising, long and activity packed day than from the phone call I received the first night we were in Raleigh for the contest.

"Hi Vicky, Lucky is in the front yard. Are you or Arvo home?"
"No....we are in Raleigh. Would you do me a favor Andi and just shoot him? Preferably murder him on the first shot, right between his conniving, perpetually scheming eyeballs?"
This is only what I was thinking.... it is not what I actually said. And actually, I was thinking things much much worse. If this is "man's best friend" then I sure don't want to meet "man's best enemy".
Lucky of  course has a long and devious history of escaping out of our barricaded backyard, despite its fence,  3 foot of chicken wire on top of fence, obstacles at base of fence, electric shock collar, and trained snipers on the roof.

We had no choice but to call the dog sitter and tell her to put Lucky in the crate while we were gone. The crate is not a live-in crate... it is just big enough to sleep in. I felt bad but I had no choice. At least it kept my anxiety diffused around several areas other than how my helicopter and trebuchet team were going to do. And just in case my stress level were not rising to the top of the thermometer, Asherel had developed an unexplained limp, hot red spot near her ankle, and no explanation for the pain. This happened a couple of years ago, and our 6 hour visit to the ER revealed only one thing- that she has small rolling veins that are impossible to get an IV into without agony and hundreds of unsuccessful attempts. In the end, an orthopedist felt she must have broken a growth plate, and told her to stay off it til it felt better.

My food poisoning the day before we left was nothing compared to my worries over what her ailment might be. I knew that just because 3 of 5 of my siblings had had appendicitis, that was likely not the cause of my excruciating stomach pain. More likely it was the result of my cooking and the only surprise was that it didn't occur daily. But Asherel's limp and pain was troublesome.

So I watched her closely, and asked every few minutes how her ankle was doing. She stayed off it for the day before the contest, and wore an ankle brace Friday. By Saturday, the pain and redness was gone. I don't know what it was, but again am grateful that my full panic could be unleashed gradually over such a wide variety of concerns.

But now, the year of Science Olympiad is over. I could in all honesty clap delightedly for the State winners who would go on to Nationals. I  was happy to let that one pass us by, so I could focus on how to best throttle my dog when we got home.

Endings are sad, but they are good too. I can't think of a verse more fraught with conflicting emotions than Jesus as He released His spirit to death on the cross, as He cried, "It is finished!"  All those watching who loved Him felt immeasurable grief. But He did what He came to earth to do and He did it perfectly. There was rejoicing in Heaven and ultimately in all of us when the full import of what He had done became known. If there had been any ribbons awarded at that event, He would have gotten the blue.

John 19:29-31

²⁹ A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. ³⁰ When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

2 Timothy 4:7
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

The nanoworld

"So are nanos manmade? " I asked the student demonstator at the science olympiad "nanodays". The demonstations were set up for the arriving olympiads to further feed their scientific knowledge so they wouldn't have to grow up like me and ask if nanos are manmade.

"Well Nanotechnology is a process not a thing."
"I understand that but it is technology using nanos, right? Well do you create nanos or are they just here? "
"I need to get my professor, " she said. Maybe she was a cosmetology major filling in for her physics major friend. Or maybe she didn't know that there really are stupid questions.

The professor shook his head."Nanos are looking at things at the smallest level."
" But do you make nanos or are they already here waiting to be observed? "

Honestly, I am still a little fuzzy on Nanos, even after he explained. I think nanos are just really small molecules and certain materials or combinations of materials are made up of nanos. Really smart people can use those tiny little nanos to do tasks that only very small things can do, like squeeze through the dog door when you have locked yourself out of the house.

But the salient part about nanos for me was even though we can't see them, they can be harnessed to do very amazing things. As my helicopter and trebuchet teams go forth to their events today, they will be relying on hard work, effort, and skill. But they also will be drawing on the strength of something unseen. Something much bigger than nanos.

Romans 1:20 NIV

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.

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You ain't nothin but a hound dog......

Our team will be howling in the opening Ceremony of the NC State Science Olympiad tonight wearing duct tape hound dog ears. Our team, the Science Hounds, needed a fun, easy way to show team spirit. Of course, my daughter, the duct tape queen suggested duct tape dog ears. The girl who is reduced to blubbering tears when I tell her she is required to wear a dress for church on Easter will not only be proudly sporting duck tape dog ears, but decorated hers with little bows.

You can not imagine the horror with which she recoils from me should I approach her with a barrette, or a blouse with a tiny ruffle at the neck. But hound dog ears of duct tape with little bows on the top? Bring em on!

And the entire team will be gathering before the ceremony with their own rolls of duct tape and scissors while the Duct Tape Queen instructs them in the fine art of hound dog ear construction. The team is taking it very seriously. The number of emails exchanged over the various questions, facts, etc. regarding the duct tape ears far exceeded any emails about the actual competition that is presumably the reason we will all be there. One email even said that the mom had been unable to buy the duct tape as her other daughter was in the ICU and had almost died....could her daughter share duct tape with someone? (The poor girl in ICU is doing better but it was apparently very scary for a while there.)
I can tell you, I would not have had the presence of mind to worry about the duct tape ears in that situation.

There were emails about ripping vs. cutting with scissors, what were the best kind of scissors, what colors, should there be two colors indicating inner/outer ear, would it rip out hair, when would be the best time to make the ears, should there be a group buy or should each choose their own, and so on and on.....

If the team put this much time and thought into their science olympiad events, we are going to win for sure. It put things in a bit of perspective for me on the eve of a contest that could make me a mass of jangled nerves if I run true to form. For the kids, this is a celebration. An excuse for a gathering of a bunch of really nice, fun, smart kids to stay in a hotel, splash in a pool, and wear goofy ears. They have spent a year working and finally succeeding on very difficult tasks. Only a small number of kids will walk away with awards, and it is so important to keep that all in mind. It was really all that went before Saturday's contest that matters.  Regardless of what happens Saturday at the contest, our team will walk away smiling, arms around each other, flapping duct tape dog ears.

Job 8:21
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.

PS_ tomorrow morning will be a flurry of early mayhem and rushing. It is highly likely I will not get a post out but will update as soon as able!

Fiery Ordeals

One side of mouth:
"It has been a long time of a lot of work. I will be glad when it is over."
Other side of mouth:
"I'm sad it is ending."

These two statements came barely 24 hours apart, from the same 13 year old daughter over the same Science Olympiad work that ends this weekend with the State competition. Despair and delight. They are sometimes kissing cousins.


"I thought you were glad it is ending. I thought you were weary of all the work," I said.
"Well I am, but I will miss it too."
"We will make a point of seeing all your friends over the summer. We can take them kayaking."
She nodded.

But it isn't the same, even something as wonderful as kayaking. It is not the same as struggling together through what seem like insurmountable problems in areas  in which one has no knowledge or experience. It isn't the same, even something so beautiful and relaxing as kayaking through a shady inlet, as watching helicopter after helicopter smash to smithereens and stretching one's brain to understand how the design should be altered in an area that a few months ago, that brain would not have dared to travel. It isn't the same as being a team member, rebuilding a flinging machine week after week with hopes that the projectile will be flung forwards, not backwards....and then finally achieving success only to have the flinging arm break.

It isn't the same, peacefully lounging in the sun with the waves lapping against the hull, as crying one's eyes out because after 5 hours of painstaking work, the fragile structure breaks, and one must begin all over again. It isn't the same, exploring sun dappled coves with fragrant red flowers never seen before lining the shore while the kayak dips and bobs on gentle swells backwashed from the encounter with land, as lifting one's hand to release something you have crafted together and watching it soar to the peak of a glass ceiling where clouds and hawks circle just beyond. It isn't the same as firing a trebuchet, a word that was unknown to you just 9 months ago, a trebuchet you designed and built together and managed to erect without losing a single important body part, and then watching that trebuchet finally fling the projectile the full length of the driveway.

Resting from work is good....but it isn't the same as working beyond what you ever dreamed you could do, bearing struggles you felt were going to kill you, and coming out on the other side victorious.

Our Bible study was from 1 Peter 4. We spent the whole time discussing why the term "fiery ordeal" was used to describe the trials we should expect in our life walking with God. Why not just a less frightening term like "difficulties" or "struggles"? Who wants to know ahead of time that it will be a "fiery ordeal?" Given the choice, which of us would say wholeheartedly, "Send me into the furnace and burn me alive that I might emerge (if I emerge) stronger and purer?" I honestly believe I love God, however imperfectly, but personally, I think I could do without that fiery ordeal.

But to a small degree, that is what my Science Olympiad teams endured. It wasn't their health that was enduring anguish, but their time, their energy, their ability to persevere in a task that seemed impossible to accomplish, their working together withholding blame and acrimony when things went badly, and being generous in their praise and encouragement to the other when things went well. They may not have been vocally proclaiming Christ and suffering for their faith, but they were proclaiming him in character, as they struggled together through some very frustrating and desperate moments together. It would have been easy to give up, to scream, to be ugly and unkind....but they never were. All this for a 13 year old is a fiery ordeal of sorts. And now they are out of the furnace, and how funny that they will miss the heat.

1 Peter 4: 11-13
 ¹² Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. ¹³ But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.

Reaching for the Moon

"If you're wrong, do we get a cookie?" asked my helicopter team, weary of testing yet another rubber motor for yet another helicopter.
If only all I lost every time I was wrong was a cookie, I think I'd be more willing to be wrong. But if cookies were to be the motivation for my helicopter team to finish strong in the race to Science Olympiad gold, so be it. I thought about giving some sort of motivational speech, but decided cookies were easier to hand out than words at that point. The State Science Olympiad contest this weekend could not come a moment too soon. If it arrives after the sugar high wears off, we are doomed. We all want to win, but it has been a long season with many long hours and even perfectionists lose steam.

I reach for the moon alot. One who reaches for the moon is bound to come away at times empty handed. This is not in the Bible, but it should be.

I was very sad to read that NASA has informed its already depleted astronaut staff that the chance of them going on any more outer space flights to the moon is "slim to nil."  A paltry few will be allowed to tag along on the Russian shuttles to the International Space station, but the future of any shuttle program here is dim. What will happen to all the young boys and girls who want to grow up to be astronauts? What happens to their dreams?

We are reading about the incredible era in US history when President Kennedy who was elected because he was by  far the most handsome man in the race, challenged us to have a man on the moon before the Communists. This is because the entire Western world was fearful of the Outer Space Domino effect, which meant that if the moon became communistic, one by one other heavenly bodies would topple to that form of government, and eventually, the sun itself would have to be addressed as "Citizen Sun Comrade." Subsequently, the daylight hours would have to be evenly distributed equally to every single inch of  land on Earth. This of course would require that the earth be unrolled since it would be physically impossible for a sphere to have an equal allotment of Citizen Sun. This would have cataclysmic repercussions, not the least of which Columbus would be wrong, the world would indeed be flat, and all our geography books would need to be revised. Thus, President Kennedy, being an excellent motivator, besides being handsome, urged us to "Hie thee to the moon!" pronto.

Our nation's eager and intellectually gifted children complied, took their science class a little more seriously, and in the end prevented the entire universe from being engulfed behind the Iron Curtain, planting a US flag on lunar soil first. At that time, we collectively reached for the moon and grasped it. Sometimes I wonder if our nation is worn out, tired of being a beacon of hard working, sensible, reasonable, altruistic, and noble aspirations. I think we may all be crumbling into a bunch of whiners who just want a cookie.

This is not to imply that my helicopter team is whiney. They are weary, but they worked their patooties off for 3 hours on Easter Sunday reaching for the moon....and for cookies.

Deuteronomy 33: 13-15
  “May the LORD bless his land
   with the precious dew from heaven above
   and with the deep waters that lie below;
¹⁴ with the best the sun brings forth
   and the finest the moon can yield;
¹⁵ with the choicest gifts of the ancient mountains
   and the fruitfulness of the everlasting hills;

The Search for Meaning

We got bumped by a funeral. Our last helicopter testing before the Science Olympiad next weekend was to be at the church with the ceilings that stretch 5 stories high towards heaven. However, the pastor hoped I would understand that the unexpected funeral took precedence over our helicopter flying. They would need the church to conduct the services.

As Ben, the other helicopter team member, had been sick for our penultimate test flight, his helicopter was as yet untested. (For those of you with a dictionary handy, I would encourage you to look up 'penultimate' if you don't know what it means. It is a very useful word. It is my second favorite word. My favorite is serendipity. Words just don't get any more fun to say than that one. Well, onomatopoeia is pretty delightful as well.)

But- back to the problem at hand. We could not wait til any later than Sunday to test, in case we destroyed our copters, which we do with alarming regularity. We would need time to rebuild them. We had to test this weekend, Easter or not.

I called the local mall. I didn't get through to highest management, though was put through to her voice mail.
"Hello," I said to the machine after it beeped its greeting, "I have a unique form of Easter entertainment for your mall shoppers. I need tall ceilings to test our rubber powered Science Olympiad helicopters and your facility has been selected from among thousands to be our test site. Please call _________ to schedule your exciting and free Helicopter to Heaven program today!"

Surprisingly, they did not call back.

I wrote back to the church with the 5 story tall ceilings.
"We are desperate. We totally understand the necessity of conducting the funeral in lieu of us having a shot at winning the State contest that we have worked a year now towards. What do the hopes and dreams of a child matter, after all, in contrast to the last wishes of a dead body? Nothing. But, would you consider canceling Easter services and we could fly Sunday?"

Ok, I am kidding. I had some of you though, right? I actually asked if after services on Sunday afternoon we could fly in their perfect ceilings. I  find the symbolism rather intriguing- the feeble attempts of mankind lifting towards God with whatever power can be mustered. Our designs would be destined to fall back to earth, no matter how strong the rubber band motor was. We could rise quite a bit on our own power, but to stay risen, one had to be Jesus or lifted in His hand.

"Yes," wrote back the facility manager, "After Easter services, the church will be empty. You can fly your copters then if you like."

I can't wait to hear Asherel's response when she awakens and reads my post today:
"That's a beautiful picture you drew today, Mom, but what does it have to do with your blog?"
"Nothing. Or everything. It depends on what message you got out of it."
"Well, what are my choices? It doesn't seem to be a God packed moral today. In fact, it seems a little selfish and perhaps even sacrilegious. I mean, should we be flying our helicopters on Easter?"
"He is risen," I said, "That is what we celebrate. We should all be looking up, because that is where risen things reside, like Messiahs.... and helicopters. The miracle of Easter is when He rose again, He continued to reach back down, to survey the whole earth, to reach His spirit into every valley and every field, touching the hearts of His sheep."
"You are stretching here, Mom. Besides, there are no sheep in this picture you drew."
"They're lost. That's the point. He took our sin upon Himself and bore our punishment that the lost might be found."
"Well don't you think you should have drawn at least one found sheep?"
"It's only Saturday. I think we need to spend some time wondering where we go to find the lost sheep."
"And I suppose sometimes that involves flying in helicopters?"
"Maybe.... it means going down or through or even up every path opened before you."
"You think there will be lost sheep in the rafters of the church?"
"No, probably not..... but I think there might be someone who wanders in, whose soul is heavy and burdened, and who doesn't feel the gravity of life will ever release him. You never know when you might lighten someone's heart with the Message of Hope, of our Risen Lord."
"Were you really thinking all this when you drew this picture, Mom? Or when you scheduled our helicopter practice for Easter?"
"It doesn't matter," I answered, "I'm thinking it now, aren't you?"

Isaiah 53:5-7

⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions,
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
   and by his wounds we are healed.
⁶ We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
   each of us has turned to our own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
   the iniquity of us all.
 ⁷ He was oppressed and afflicted,
   yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
   and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
   so he did not open his mouth.

Soaring upward on a wing and a prayer

Today we go to the gorgeous pink church, with a ceiling 5 stories high. The ceiling is magnificent, free of rafters or speakers or any impediments to the prayers of the devout below from soaring without encumbrance...or of helicopters doing likewise. The ceiling is taller than trees, with no branches that might rip delicate tissue or snarl hopefully whirling rotors.

"I have an unusual request," I told the head pastor of the largest church in Charlotte.
We sat in a huge magnificently appointed conference room. The conference table could seat 50. Asherel and I sat across from the Pastor and the facilities manager. Our voices echoed in the room.
"We have Science Olympiad helicopters that we think can break the 2 minute barrier..."
The Pastor tilted his head and narrowed an eye.
"Not a real helicopter!" I added quickly,"It is powered by a rubber band. And we need a really tall ceiling to test it adequately. I have always admired your tall ceilings....er, your church."
"Are you sure you don't want me to pray for a loved one or perhaps for your salvation?" (he didn't really say that but I think that was more in line of what he was expecting.)
"Oh, you certainly may if you like, but I am a believer already. I am sure your church is excellent at those functions, and now, I am offering you an opportunity to expand the definition of soaring to heaven."(I didn't really say that either, but isn't it a perfect hypothetical retort to a hypothetical question?)

"Where have you tested in the past?" he asked. (He did really say that because I think he was hoping we might wish to test there again.)
"In a gym," said Asherel, "And it gets stuck and sometimes broken in the rafters."
"Your ceiling has nothing to get stuck on," I added, "We have had to shoot it down in the past."
The pastor cringed.
"With rubber bands!" I said, "There isn't anything we do that would hurt your church." At least not physically....
"Where would you want to do these practice flights?"
"The portico entryway is perfect," I said, "Although the Sanctuary itself has even higher ceilings. Would it be sacrilegious to fly in there?"
He nodded.
"The portico is perfect then."
The pastor looked at the facilities manager.
"They could fly next Friday," he said.
"During the funeral?"
"Oh, no that would not be proper. How about Saturday the 16th?"

So today we will attend the largest church in Charlotte to fly helicopters. But we will be in the right place because we will be praying. We will be praying that it breaks the 2 minute barrier. The state Science Olympiad contest is just two weeks away. I find it very appropriate that our final test flight will be in a church. I suspect it will give us a special anointing that less spiritual helicopter teams won't have.

One of my favorite Bible verses is "I lift my eyes unto the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord , the maker of Heaven and Earth."  The best dreams I ever have are of flying. Heaven is always described as above us....as up, up, up. Why? Why do we lift our eyes...why do we want to soar....why do we look up when looking for God?  God is infinite, and all around us. Up is only part of where God resides. All those pilots who have gone as far up as we can go have never reported seeing pearly gates, or even a glimpse of the saints gathered in joyous song.

Maybe it is because when we look up, our eyes are opened as wide as they can go. Try it. You can't look up with squinty eyes. It hurts the muscles. I think God intends for us to acknowledge Him with our hearts and eyes fully open. The evidence for God is all around us but we have to be looking. And today, I will be looking up for we pray at least 120 seconds.

2 Samuel 22:11
¹¹ He mounted the cherubim and flew;
   he soared on the wings of the wind.

Tuberculosis Cured!

As Josh set the trebuchet arm, he coughed briefly.
"Sorry," he said, "I'm just getting over tuberculosis."
His other event in Science Olympiad is Disease Detectives, where he is cramming his head full of information about various diseases.

"Are you sure you just don't have bronchitis?" I asked.
Last week he told Asherel that her symptoms were likely anthrax poisoning, which, he warned, was fatal with no cure. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

With my little knowledge about Alzheimer's, or the whole system that helps folks with this illness, I called a nearby small Assisted Living Center.

"Can I help you?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I have a couple of old friends," I told her,"And the wife has Alzheimers. The husband needs assisted living care. Right now they are in a facility where they are in separate buildings, far apart, and it is breaking both their hearts. Is there any facility where they could be together? Might your facility consider such an arrangement?"

I thought she might just laugh at me, the way I laughed when Josh told us he was just getting over tuberculosis. However, she said, "Possibly. It depends. We have done that in the past." She asked me to tell her a little about the couple, and then set up a time when I could bring them to meet her, look at the place, and they would all have a better guess about the possibilities.
"We could do it on a trial basis. But if the same room won't work out due to their health needs, the Alzheimer unit is attached to the assisted living. They would just be separated by a kitchen."
I called Comer immediately. He wanted to check it out without his wife first, concerned that Evelyn might be too upset by the whole unfamiliarity. He was interested, but this weary 93 year old man did not relish the idea of moving again.

As I recounted the story to Asherel, I told her the daughter, having moved her parents 4 times in the past few months had told them she was not moving them any more.
"Why would she have to move them?" asked my sweet girl.
I smiled at her, "You're right. If he wants to move we will get friends, and trucks, and vans, and we will move them ourselves."

While I waited for Asherel to get out of Gavel Club,  which is held in our church, I sketched a lovely blooming tree. It had been planted purposely on the church grounds, and its blossoms were fitting and beautiful against the stained glass window. But I noticed that the same lovely tree dotted the fields nearby. It grew wild and brought dots of beauty all across the surrounding forested area. I thought of the lady at the Assisted Living Home I had spoken with.
"Do you think Evelyn's symptoms are worse because she misses her husband?" asked the nurse.
"I am not a doctor," I said, "But it sure seems that way to me." It had been my thought from the beginning but I found it too obvious, too silly to voice. And a nurse had spoken the same thought, like the trees in the field bursting with blossoms.....
And pollen.....

I sneezed, as Asherel got back in the car.
It's ok. I'm just getting over tuberculosis. But I'm hopeful I will make a full recovery.

Psalm 147:10-12

 ¹⁰ His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse,
   nor his delight in the legs of the warrior;
¹¹ the LORD delights in those who fear him,
   who put their hope in his unfailing love.

Job 11:17-19

¹⁷ Life will be brighter than noonday,
   and darkness will become like morning.
¹⁸ You will be secure, because there is hope;
   you will look about you and take your rest in safety.
¹⁹ You will lie down, with no one to make you afraid,
   and many will court your favor.

Unexpected Reasons to Smile

We really could not believe it. Our trebuchet was shooting 5-8 meters further than it had with the old arm.
It was raining and we had to test our new trebuchet. We have way too many hours of work left to do to collect the data before the State Science Olympiad. We had to find a way to practice in inclement weather.

So I called my church.

"I have an unusual request. I need the church gym to test a trebuchet."
"Is that some new sort of evangelistic tool?"
"Well it certainly could be. I mean I could fling bibles into dangerous neighborhoods from at least 20 meters away."
"Hmmmm. Well let me see if trebuchet evangelism is listed as one of our allowable uses for our gym. "
"Ok, that would be great. You may remember me, by the way. Last week we used the gym to test our helicopters."
"Oh? And what spiritual category was that listed under?"
"I believe it was scientific research into seeing just how high heaven really is."
"Let me discuss this with our facilities director and get back to you."

The facilities director agreed that since the gym was miraculously empty that afternoon we could use it to test our trebuchet. And our new top secret arm design performed beautifully. We actually hit 20 meters, a new record. We worked a total of 6 hours over two sessions yesterday. The kids were collapsed on the floor taking what Josh described as a "power nap."
"Wimp!" I shrieked, "If a mere 6 hours of tedious and monotonous data collection does you in, how do you ever expect to get anywhere in life?"
I fed them stale peanut butter crackers I found in the car and threatened they would never see their mothers again if they didn't get back to work. Asherel, my dear daughter thought that that sounded like a promise, not a threat.

I understand what effective teaching is all about, no question about that.

(Now just for you literal folk out there dialing social services, this part was made up. We did indeed work 6 hours in a morning and afternoon shift, but I assure you, the peanut butter crackers were not stale.) And yes, the 6 hours was on top of a full day's curriculum for both kids, but they may as well learn young that life is busy.

However, even my weary team was dancing a jig with me when the projectile slammed into Josh's skull at the 20 meter mark.
"Hooray!!!!!" I yelled, and began texting all my friends.
Josh staggered, "Hooray I got hit in the head?" He looked miffed.
"Oh, no... I am really sorry about that. How many fingers am I holding up?"
"What are fingers?"
"How far did our projectile fly?"
"20 feet."
"You're fine. Mop up that blood and get back to work."

Meanwhile, the literary agent wrote to me. She wants to see more of my book. And she is encouraged by how my "platform" is developing. I have now demonstrated through my various connections, organizations, memberships, and lies, I can  reach 3 million potential readers. (I really didn't lie...btw...that was for humorous effect in case you are having a bad day.) She tells me the numbers I really need to increase however are my monthly blog hits. She claims the fact that my parents read my blog faithfully every day is insufficient for most savvy publishers. So if any of you have friends, please tell them to go look at my blog. And tell them to tell all their friends. Who knows but that you may be jump starting the career of a future Dostoevsky, or Dickens....though I suspect if Dostoevsky or Dickens had had to build a blog readership of  a half million or so before publishing, they would not be lining the bookshelves today with their work.

So what was God saying to me with all these sudden, surprising, happy turn of events? Sometimes life doesn't stink. Sometimes good things happen out of the blue. Sometimes it is hard not to smile. And during those times, don't forget to say "Thank you".

1 Thessalonians 5:17-19

¹⁷ pray continually, ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Light and Strong

The trebuchet team snagged a carbon fiber hockey stick for our trebuchet arm. In the name of science, they attended the Charlotte Checkers hockey game, noted the moment a stick was cracked, and raced to the hockey team to beg them for the broken stick. I wasn't there, but I bet I know how the discussion went:
"Can we have your broken hockey stick?" Josh pleaded.
"Are you nuts! These sticks sell for $500 or more a piece."
"They don't do you any good broken."
"What do you want it for? Cracking it over your brother's head? We don't condone violence, ya know."  Here they chuckled and bashed each other good naturedly on the knee caps.
"We have made a trebuchet and the arm is oak....strong but heavy. We made the Science Olympiad State competition with our strong team performance, but we are still flinging only about a third as far as we need to fling to have a shot at medalling at States."

The hockey players looked at each other, their eyes glistening with tears. They knew about the desire to win, and they loved the concept of warfare, which of course the trebuchet was designed for in the Middle Ages. All you need to do is attend one minute of any hockey game to know that these folk understand combat.

"Well, all right, you can have the stick. Do you get extra points for bruising the other contestants?"
"No, it's not really like hockey in that respect."

They grinned and skated back on the ice, smacking and hurtling the other team members out of the way with their $500 carbon fiber sticks.
"Wow," said Josh, "If our hockey stick arm throws stuff that far, we are gonna win!"

We test the super light, super strong stick today. It is a stronger arm, though half the weight of our oak arm. I love the image of this strong arm that could possibly hurl things 60 meters. It reminds me of the strongest arm I know. That arm is invisible but it reaches down, and snatches the worst of us out of the grip of destruction and sets us down safely an eternity away from the ravages of sin, if we let it. It holds us lightly, but its reach is infinite, and its strength can never be broken.

"Do you think all this effort with the new arm will be worth it?" asked my team. One nodded, one shook his head.
I shrugged. I thought of that other arm, strong but gentle, and so light upon us, beckoning and withholding the full power of His strength, longing to pull us toward Him but letting us decide which direction we will head.


Psalm 79:11
¹¹ May the groans of the prisoners come before you;
   with your strong arm preserve those condemned to die.

2 Chronicles 15:
⁷ But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.”

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.

Hearing without sound

Well, ok, if we are going to the State Science Olympiad contest, I suppose it behooves me to try to figure out how we could make our trebuchet fling further. The trebuchet issue is like a tree- the trunk is solid but there are millions of limbs of variables that sway and flex and absorb energy. We have to find every one of those, and make it energy efficient. To that end, our partner's family called Asherel and me over last night. We live nearby. They had piled the treb in their car after the competition Saturday, and so it was currently at their house.

"We have a neighbor who is a genius type looking at the treb. Can you and Asherel come right away?"
We walked over to see a whole crowd of people in the driveway surrounding our treb. It takes a village to build a trebuchet.....

One of the neighbor kids standing with his chin in his hand, listening with complete absorption clearly had some sort of physical disability. He didn't say much, but his eyes bored into my face as I spoke and gave my analysis of what I thought was going wrong. Soon all 6 adults and 6 kids were waving arms, pointing, jabbing, suggesting, groaning, crouching, peering at it at different angles. I was making my case for chopping off the front end of the treb, but no one was listening as they were busy analyzing how to make the tracks for the wheels more efficient, when suddenly the young man with the disability leaned in, put his weight heavily on the treb, and began making sounds. My yearlong rule to the kids has been ,"Don't lean on the trebuchet!!! If any of the components buckle or bend, it throws off our data and we have to rebuild!"

But Josh's mom quickly said, "Josh, tell him in sign language to not lean on it."
Oh, I realized, I should have known. He's deaf!
"You know sign language?" I asked Josh, who continues to surprise me, as does this whole delightful family God plopped me in the presence of.
"We know our version of sign language," said his brother Alex.
They motioned to the boy, who backed off but then earnestly made chopping motions and pointed vigorously at me and at the treb. He understood me and agreed. Chop off the front and bring the dropping pivot point forward. I was totally with him on this, and wondered how he had understood this concept and why it was such a good idea. However, in the end, we decided it would be too much work to do that for now. We would alter easier limbs of our tree of problems first, and if the treb still wasn't flinging far, we would go to that rather drastic plan.

We all looked at our watches. 7:30!  We had spent two hours throwing out creative ideas about how to save our treb....even forgetting about dinner. A neighborhood had gathered to help us. Even the dog and cat came over to look at it, and the toddler crouched and gazed at it from her perspective. It is funny that my favorite moments in this year long journey of Science Olympiad have nothing to do with science.

1 Thessalonians 5:11

¹¹ Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.

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 Their Eye is on You

We often did not see the forest for the trees this past several months. When we were in the thick of crazy gluing our fingers to 1/16th inch balsa, or ripping mylar for the millionth time, or winding the rubber motor such that the helicopter drilled downward into China, or flinging the projectile backwards instead of forwards with our trebuchet.....it just felt hopeless. But today, ready or not, our contraptions must fling and fly... or flop. It is in God's hands now. Off to the Science Olympiad competition we go, hi ho, hi ho.

The kids really could not have worked harder. Whatever happens, they will never have to say ,"If only we had put more time into it or given more effort."  They do not need to win, place, or show to earn my admiration. They have already earned it. I hope they are rewarded for all their hard work, but it is possible they won't be, not with ribbons and trophies anyway. Their rewards may have to be satisfaction that they did their best. Not many people can say that.

Our Bible study yesterday was Ephesians 6. I think it is one of the single most succinct chapters in how to live a Christian life. A verse I pull out frequently to motivate my kids is paraphrased- work as for the Lord and not for men. Work wholeheartedly whether anyone is watching or not.

How many of us do that?  Yet I saw the kids I coach do that week after week after week. I am so proud of them. Can you tell? I only wish I had been a better coach...like one that knew something....anything......But they labored on in the face of being taught by someone who knew just as much as they did...zilch.

But we all know more than zilch now. We know that crazy glue can be filed off of skin with an emory board, but be prepared to say ouch now and then. This was a valuable lesson. We learned other valuable lessons as well. We learned that the serving size on the Girl Scout Cookies package is way too low. And that breaks now and then to go snowboarding make 80 hour weeks more bearable. We also learned that the simplest solution is best and neophytes should stick to basics.

Anyway, I would write more, but I have a competition to get to with the best kids on earth.

Ephesians 6: 6-8
⁶ Obey them not only to win their favor when their eye is on you, but as slaves of Christ, doing the will of God from your heart. ⁷ Serve wholeheartedly, as if you were serving the Lord, not people, ⁸ because you know that the Lord will reward each one for whatever good they do, whether they are slave or free.

Daylight Saving

Just when we get to sleep in until the sun actually catches up to our circadian rhythms, just when we reach the point where we can be gently nudged awake by singing birds and warm sunlight that has penetrated the darkness, just when the soft scent of flowers golden in our minds meld in perfect unity with the golden morning sun that is appearing at just the right time in our dreams..... daylight saving time invades our peace.

I hate the springing forward, especially when we have a busy and early weekend. I don't mind the falling back as much. In my ongoing quest to learn as much about the world I live in in its meaningless minutia, I researched daylight saving time, and found out some very interesting facts. First of all, half of the entries on the internet incorrectly call it "Daylight Savings Time" as though it were a bank deposit. I would laugh heartily about this except that I too call it daylight savings time and am being constantly corrected by my children.

It has been a source of controversy since being instituted in the early 1900s. It was concocted as a way to save on energy costs, but most studies seem to indicate it probably has little if any net effect on energy cost. So why do we do it?

It has many unintended consequences. Since Amtrak must always run on time, do you know that at 2 a.m. when the time changes, the trains just stop, and sit where they are on the tracks for an hour so they will still arrive on time in the time change of October? So what do they do in the spring, when they have to leap ahead? They all open the throttle as far as they can go and whiz across the country, smashing cows and chickens all along the way, trying to make up the time. This is not a lie!

However, I love how daylight saving time messes with the minds of terrorists. In 1999, the West Bank was still on standard time when the rest of Israel switched to daylight saving time. Someone forgot to inform the terrorists however, and they set their bombs to detonate on standard time, then sent them over to the terrorists receiving the bombs on the Israeli side. The terrorists misunderstood the timing on the bomb, and the bombs exploded while the terrorists were transporting them, instead of killing innocent Israelis on the morning commute bus. The last words of the terrorists as they saw the spark ignite was, "Spring forward, fall back!!!!! Fiddlesticks!"   That last word may have been more harsh but it is hard to know with precision what phonemes are uttered during sound waves of 180 decibels of exploding dynamite.

I suppose I should be thankful. This useless practice will not occur til Sunday morning. This is a blessing since Saturday morning we have to leave the house at 7 a.m. to go fly helicopters and fling projectiles in our Science Olympiad competition. On the other hand, we will be robbed of our last morning of what the Amish call "slow time". And really, it isn't daylight that needs saving. It is us. I am with the Amish- it is us, our souls, our feverish march into a frenzied , earlier day that needs saving..

The book of Matthew reminds us that worry is useless since none of us can add a single hour to our life by worrying. Yes we can.... we can add an hour by abolishing Daylight Saving Time! I think as soon as we have finished flying our helicopters and flinging our projectiles at the Science Olympiad contest, we should all  march onWashington and see if we can retrieve that stolen hour. First, synchronize your watches. Let's all meet at the Amtrak station at 6 a.m. but be careful near the tracks. The trains will be flying at the speed of sound to try to make up that hour so be sure you have put on lots of hairspray.


Matthew 6:27, 33-34
²⁷ Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
 ³³ But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. ³⁴ Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

A Cord of Three Strands

It was 3:30 and we were done with all our school work. We blinked at each other. How could this be? This whole year, not only have we never finished school before dinner time, but in addition, Asherel has spent every weekend either building helicopters, repairing broken helicopters, testing trebuchets, writing speeches, or preparing for an art contests. It has been about as relaxing as punching oneself in the head over and over and over.

However... the helicopters are now ready, boxed, and labeled carefully, packed in a bag awaiting transfer to the car early Saturday. The trebuchet is already in the car, with the beautiful black duct tape covering with orange and green flame detailing Asherel made. If it doesn't win at flinging things, it should win "Best Dressed Trebuchet." All the art entries are in for this year awaiting judging, and her last speech for gavel club is one she could probably give in her sleep. 

We let out a collective sigh.

It has been a hard year. It is hard to believe that the hard work is over. Her regular school schedule is a piece of cake with all these extras removed. Would we do it again? I find myself asking that often when I have survived any grueling, excruciating endeavor....be it academic, work, or relational. When I am in the midst of it, I almost always respond with a resounding "NO!".  But when I am nearing the end, or through the ordeal..... I invariably begin to notice the things I gained along the way that I had not noticed while gasping for breath in the midst of it all.

Things like the people we encountered and even befriended along the way. Or the patience we developed that we never knew we had. Or the ability to hold our tongue and let fun invade the precious few moments of work time we had. Or the ability to hold the fun when the work was tedious and hard and yet we had to slog on anyway. Or the ability to tolerate frustration beyond what was fair or bearable....or reaching the breaking point, and seeing that being broken is not really the worst that could happen. Or failing time after time after time, and then procuring the faintest glimmer of success that would never have satisfied us at the outset, but is strangely monumental in the darkness of perpetual defeat. Or recognizing that if helicopters don't fly, and trebuchets don't fling, the sun still rises and sets, and God is still in every spring flower.

That's when we realize we would probably do it again. I suppose in a way, it is like asking, if given the choice, would I rather not have been born?  There are moments when I would answer, yes, life is just too hard. It would have been better not to have had to endure it. Poor Solomon in his lament, Ecclesiastes, reaches that conclusion. The presence of oppression, unbearable evil, meaningless toil, envy, and discontent made Solomon conclude the one who never was born to see all that was the luckier soul. He talks about how at least if two travel the road of hardship together, there is someone to pick you up or keep you warm but one traveling alone is easily overpowered. And then suddenly, after talking about the power of two to at least survive, there is a change in tone and terminology that strikes me as odd. With no warning after this litany of depression and despair, Solomon says, "A strand of three cords is not quickly broken."  Three? We were talking about two just a second ago. Who is this third? And I thought life was a meaningless chasing after the wind.... what is this sudden declaration of hope?

In case I have fooled anyone, I am not a Bible scholar, though I play one on this blog. But I love the Bible and I love the daily dose of delight and guidance I find there. This is what I think Solomon realized that I have realized more and more as I struggle in life. No one can do it alone, and even more importantly, no one can do it without God. That third strand, I think, is God.

Ecclesiastes 4

Oppression, Toil, Friendlessness

 ¹ Again I looked and saw all the oppression that was taking place under the sun:    I saw the tears of the oppressed—
   and they have no comforter;
power was on the side of their oppressors—
   and they have no comforter.
² And I declared that the dead,
   who had already died,
are happier than the living,
   who are still alive.
³ But better than both
   is the one who has never been born,
who has not seen the evil
   that is done under the sun.
 ⁴ And I saw that all toil and all achievement spring from one person’s envy of another. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.
 ⁵ Fools fold their hands
   and ruin themselves.
⁶ Better one handful with tranquillity
   than two handfuls with toil
   and chasing after the wind.
 ⁷ Again I saw something meaningless under the sun:
 ⁸ There was a man all alone;
   he had neither son nor brother.
There was no end to his toil,
   yet his eyes were not content with his wealth.
“For whom am I toiling,” he asked,
   “and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?”
This too is meaningless—
   a miserable business!
 ⁹ Two are better than one,
   because they have a good return for their labor:
¹⁰ If either of them falls down,
   one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
   and has no one to help them up.
¹¹ Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
   But how can one keep warm alone?
¹² Though one may be overpowered,
   two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.