The Jig is up

The jig is up...or it will be after my parents read this post. First of all, some of you might think I meant to say the gig is up, but you would be illiterate ignoramuses just like I was before my parents pointed out I meant "jig", not "gig". If you have read my book, please cross out the g and insert a J when you find that phrase. Or just buy the paperback out in three weeks. I have done a better job of editing.

Now for the jig itself. My mom always has created lovely gardens and often intersperses zen type rock structures in her little special areas. One of her rock sculptures is of a series of 4 rocks stacked perfectly and harmoniously atop each other. The pinnacle is a small round rock balanced atop a flat cap rock. The middle layer is a 3 hole brick, on its side, so the sculpture looks like a lantern. The problem is the little round rock is forever falling off.

While we were sitting in the living room, Mom pointed out that the round rock had fallen...again.

"I can glue it," I suggested, "We still have some super glue left over from when I made you the reindeer."
"That would be nice," said Mom.

So I rummaged in the basement, found the glue, and hurried outside. It looked like a storm was imminent, but the glue dries quickly.

It was readily apparent where the little round rock was supposed to sit. There was a cleft in the cap flat rock miraculously right in the center. I squeezed a large blog of glue there and placed the little round rock. Then I stepped back and looked at the lovely rock sculpture. It really is an exquisite little creation through such minimal materials.
I knew a little about zen gardens, and later did some internet research to find out about what the use of rocks symbolized. Here is the explanation from wikipedia regarding the care of the rock placement:

"Make sure that all the stones, right down to the front of the arrangement, are placed with their best sides showing. If a stone has an ugly-looking top you should place it so as to give prominence to its side. Even if this means it has to lean at a considerable angle, no one will notice. There should always be more horizontal than vertical stones. If there are "running away" stones there must be "chasing" stones. If there are "leaning" stones, there must be "supporting" stones. "

I loved the description of the mutual roles of the stones. No stone could be placed with an active role like "chasing" unless it was accompanied by a counterpart with an opposite or neutral role, the "running away" in this example. There had to be balance, peace, for every yin; a corresponding yang. Everything was placed such that they balanced and held each other properly in their proper place.

As I feared, a massive storm hit shortly afterwards. We had gone out to lunch and I wondered how the little rock had managed through the storm.

We returned from our car drive and I glanced out at the rocks. The round rock was still atop the cap stone, and the glue must be dry. As Mom and Dad went inside, I went to double check on the firmness of the glue's hold. I paused and blinked... What was that white puddle of stuff that oozed from beneathe the round stone like icing? It was the glue. The glue was solid and secure, and had expanded like rising bread to cup the base of the round stone.

Oh no. So much for harmonious "leaning" and "supporting". The round stone was no longer balancing in exquisite counterpoint to the stability of the base. It was now being shackled in permanent bondage. I don't think this is the message Mom hoped to convey with her zen garden.

I showed Dad.
"The glue will turn black quickly and no one will notice," he said.
But Mom will notice when she reads this post. She will glance out the window as she reaches the critical paragraph, and I suspect for every tear, there will be a harmonious and corresponding chuckle.

So Mom, when you glance at your zen garden, here is the new message. Sometimes we lean on each other, but sometimes we need a firmer hand. Sometimes we need to be in the firm and unyielding grasp of the anchor of our soul. Sometimes balancing hopefully, counting on the gentleness of the wind or the storm, is bound to disappoint. Eventually the wind is harsh, and the storm is violent, and is going to topple us. Sometimes Super Glue is required, and sometimes it is ok if the source of our strength shows.

And I can guarantee that little round rock is not going to fall down any more.

Colossians 1:17 NIV

He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

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Tethered

Asherel fell on the sword for her friends....she would take the inflatable kayak so they could have the two easier to paddle hard shell ones. I love my inflatable kayak, but it is more work to paddle than the more hydrodynamic plastic shells that slice through the water.  So it was no suprise that Asherel's two friends were gradually disappearing into the sunset while Asherel paddled for all she was worth, and was exhausted in ten minutes. Since I am used to the effort involved in paddling my inflatable, I have become proficient. I stayed near her, encouraging her to keep paddling, but it was clear, her muscles were jellifying.

"Do you want me to help? I have a rope. I can pull you, but you have to keep paddling," I offered.
Relieved, she nodded, drips of sweat splashing down her nose.

So I tethered her kayak to mine and off we went. At first, I thought this wasn't too terribly hard. But soon, my arms were aching, lungs bursting. I glanced back. Asherel was leaning back in her kayak, arms nestled behind her head, possibly snoring.

"Hey!" I shouted, "This is not easy! You have to keep paddling! I can't paddle for both of us! You have to help!" And she did....for a little while. But then she would grow tired and I could tell she would take a break, while I strained to pull the weight of both inflatable kayaks.  If I had the strength of God, I could have done it, but edging towards my 55th birthday, I did not have the strength of God. I did not even have the strength of me a few years ago. However, there is a little reservoir of reserve that somehow flows when you are towing someone you love.  I let her rest, and I did all the work off and on as we headed to our swimming hole.
"Untie me now!" she called as we neared the sandbar where the kids could safely swim. I paddled slowly, a little tiredly to the sandbar, trailing behind her now as she skimmed over to her friends and they all raced into the water.

What a picture of motherhood this is!

When the kids have yet to reach their full strength, their full potential, when they are yet uncertain, flexing muscles that haven't fully developed to navigate all the channels where life may flow...parents are always floating near. And sometimes, the parents have to throw them a tow line. Sometimes the parents are even doing all the work, and wonder when the child will ever learn to pick up his own paddle. And then, when the parent is almost done in, old and weary and worn from carrying the weight of those fledglings, they decide it is time to untie the tether.


What a picture of God that is!

When we are burdened beyond what we can bear, He gathers us to Himself, and tells us we never have to go on our own strength. He never wearies, never tires, never lets the current carry us from Him unless it is what we desire.  But if we choose, we can remain, and should remain securely moored by lines of faith, prayer, and love.

"Whew!" I said, settling back in the car as we packed up all the kayaks, three hours later, "I'm exhausted! Are you all tired?"
"No!" laughed Asherel.
"No," whispered God.

Psalm 28:8-9

New International Version (NIV)

 ⁸ The LORD is the strength of his people,
   a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
⁹ Save your people and bless your inheritance;
   be their shepherd and carry them forever.

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.”

Not only the arm of flesh with us

Per the agent's instructions, I downloaded her template for my "updated proposal" and began to cut and paste from my apparently outdated proposal. Fortunately I had all the information, so it was not as though I were starting from scratch. Still, it is an overwhelming process. Especially when I reach sections like "Published Work."

I have to be very creative in these sections, because I have only sought publication with my two books I have written. I included "letters to the Editors" in this section. I realize this is a glaring deficiency but I did the best with what I had.

I finished reworking the proposal after a full day of hard work. What made it hard is the last vestiges of the nasty cold were still hanging on, and I had to blow my nose every few seconds or risk dripping on the keyboard. My head pounded, and really, I probably should have just spent one more day recovering instead of pursuing my life dream. But I finished and then wrote the agent telling her I would send it after I had looked it over more carefully. I did have a question. From what I could see, there was no section for a book synopsis. I found this strange since one would think publishers would want to know what the book was about....wouldn't they? Perhaps this was what made my proposal outdated? At any rate, was I missing something?

I sent the email and tiredly went to bed, eyes aching, throat raw.  In the morning, I felt much better and opened the agent's proposal template again to make sure I had included all the elements in my revised proposal before I sent it. And I had.....except I had completely missed the first 5 pages of the agent's template, including of course, the section for book title, author name, and synopsis.

Laying my head down, I softly pounded my fist against my numb brain. How had I missed that? I can see overlooking a paragraph....but 5 pages? I just didn't see how even in my compromised state of health I could have missed 5 pages....and the first 5 pages at that. Where all the critical introductory things appeared like a synopsis.... the same synopsis I had written an email to the agent about....wondering why her template didn't include a synopsis.

"I have just blown it," I groaned, "My last shot. The one agent who seemed to really want to give me a chance....despite my weak platform and my published work including letters to the editor."
I quickly wrote the agent and told her I don't know how I had missed it, but somehow I had. Chalk it up to illness. I would continue to rework my proposal and send it when done.

She didn't write back. I know she is busy- busy with authors that read carefully and thoughtfully and know that a proposal has to have a synopsis. Still, as Asherel reminded me, it is done and I can't take it back, so just move on. Today I will finish reworking the proposal, and pray it is not an exercise in futility.

While I was working, so was Asherel. She was concentrating with furrowed brow, hair falling across her face, and sanding the motor stick of the new helicopter she is designing. Her goal is to keep the helicopter to the bare minimum weight allowed by Science Olympiad, which is 4 grams. In case you have no concept of how light that is, that is the weight of 4 paper clips. Her helicopter that flew so well was 4 1/2 grams, but it broke. It is very hard to make something so light also be strong. That is the engineering challenge before the team,  with the added caveat that it has to fly. There have been many failures, many set backs, many tears.
It is very tempting to bag the whole thing, and just settle on the couch and eat potato chips.


King Hezekiah of the Bible is one of those kings that I relate to. He had moments of inspiration and greatness, but then plummets to depths only ingrained character flaws can carry one. He is someone who struggles mightily in his faithful walk, and sometimes he succeeds, and often he fails. I love characters like Hezekiah. It is not that I love imperfection- actually I hate it- but it is something I can honestly aspire to. Hezekiah is real.

In 2 Chronicles, the evil king of Assyria, Sennacherib has laid seige to Jerusalem. His army is far more powerful than Hezekiah's army. He is a savvy antagonist, and while laying seige to Jerusalem, taunts the people inside trying to undermine their hope. He understands that hope is sometimes all that keeps us fighting on.  So he calls out to the beleaguered Israelites:
 ¹³ “Do you not know what I and my predecessors have done to all the peoples of the other lands? Were the gods of those nations ever able to deliver their land from my hand? ¹⁴ Who of all the gods of these nations that my predecessors destroyed has been able to save his people from me? How then can your god deliver you from my hand? ¹⁵ Now do not let Hezekiah deceive you and mislead you like this. Do not believe him, for no god of any nation or kingdom has been able to deliver his people from my hand or the hand of my predecessors. How much less will your god deliver you from my hand!”

He plants doubt firmly in the minds of the beseiged. But here, Hezekiah rises to one of his scattered moments of greatness.  He understands the source of his strength and his hope and reminds his people:
⁷ “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged because of the king of Assyria and the vast army with him, for there is a greater power with us than with him. ⁸ With him is only the arm of flesh, but with us is the LORD our God to help us and to fight our battles.” And the people gained confidence from what Hezekiah the king of Judah said.

As I settle down to finish my proposal today, and Asherel slowly sands micrograms off her helicopter motor stick, it will be good to meditate on that verse....there is a greater power with us and He will help us fight our battles.

2 Chronicles 20:12
For we have no power to face this vast army that is attacking us. We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

Resting from Labor

It is Labor day, a holiday that has always confused me since we celebrate Labor day by not laboring. That's like celebrating Thanksgiving by being ungrateful, or Sunday with rain. It just doesn't compute.

But it is particularly fitting for our tired agility dog. She worked hard, and won many awards this weekend, and now today, we rest from our labor. We celebrate what should be more aptly named Lazy Day.

Yesterday, Honeybun trotted somewhat tiredly to another first place "Q" (qualifying score) in her Standard class, and then raced to a  third place "Q" in her "Fast" class.  When she came out of the ring, surprising all of us with her speed which she is not known for, our mentor Polly asked Asherel, "What was the difference, do you think?"
"Hot dogs," replied Asherel.
Ah! If that was all it took to perk us up before the great starting lines in life! We wouldn't need Labor Days to not Labor. We would all want to labor 24/7.

Asherel had a particularly fun trial this time. She had just met a fellow homeschooler her age who loves dogs, horses, and kayaking. She heard about Hollow Creek Farm and is dying to come volunteer with us the next time we can carve some time to get out there. She begged her mom to let her come to the trial, and spent the whole time there with Asherel. I had been praying for several weeks for a perfect friend to materialize for Asherel. She loves people and the circle of friends she had last year seem to have all drifted to new things. Asherel is a remarkably content person, but she needed a friend that shared these things she loves so much. And then this delightful and sweet and fun friend appeared out of nowhere. Out of prayer into existence!

When I went to introduce the friend's mother to Arvo, I told him, "Arvo, this is Faith."
"Faith" glanced at me, and said, "Leigh. My name is Leigh. Pleased to meet you."

Now I get a bye, as I had only met Leigh a couple of days ago, but we had exchanged some emails, and her name was signed on them all.  Yet not a day later as she left her daughter at the show with us and I was plugging her name into my phone, I again typed, "Faith."

"I don't know why I keep calling you Faith," I said, "I just can't get that out of my head."
"Perhaps because of an answer to prayer?" she asked, smiling.

Yes. And that is the antidote to Labor fatigue.  Faith. Faith is God's "hotdog"- the enticement that keeps us sprinting through the race of life, our eyes lazer-trimmed on the last jump, the end goal. Faith that God is in control, and His ways are perfect whether we understand them or not. By faith, we walk and don't grow faint, we run and don't grow weary. By faith, we all "Q" and enter into a well deserved rest at the finish line.

 Isaiah 40: 28-31
 ²⁸ Do you not know?
       Have you not heard?
       The LORD is the everlasting God,
       the Creator of the ends of the earth.
       He will not grow tired or weary,
       and his understanding no one can fathom.
 ²⁹ He gives strength to the weary
       and increases the power of the weak.
 ³⁰ Even youths grow tired and weary,
       and young men stumble and fall;
 ³¹ but those who hope in the LORD
       will renew their strength.
       They will soar on wings like eagles;
       they will run and not grow weary,
       they will walk and not be faint.





I

Not Easily Broken

I love Birch trees, always have. It is therefore fitting that my married name is Estonian for "Valley of the Birch". I might be making that up, but I think my memory of what Arvo's dad told me is correct. They are a beautiful tree, the Dalmatian of the tree world with their white bark and black spots. They can be used for so many things, including Birch Bark canoes. They stand out in a crowd of more typical brown and gray trees.

The name birch derives from the sanskrit word bhirgo, meaning "tree whose bark was used to write upon". I love these kinds of names. Similarly, did you know that cinnamon roll is derived from the ancient sanskrit "bumpolitis" meaning"bread that places globules of cellulite"? These are little known facts that help me through my day.

The silver birch take 25 years to bear fruit, yet the birch are associated with the Norse goddess Frigga, the goddess of married love. They are thought to be hardier than oak, and make the strongest plywood. So beloved is this tree that it is the national symbol of Finland. While they can grow singly, many grow in clumps with multiple trunks. They can live for 50 years, but many die young because the soil must be just right, or they succumb quickly to pests and drought.

What a wealth of symbols God gives me in the Birch tree! While they can stand alone, they prefer the close company of others. They are hardy and strong if they are rooted in the right place. If not, they quickly wither and die. They are the symbol of married love, and take 25 years to bear fruit in some cases.

I love that my name means Birch Valley, because while I am not as strong as I should be, if I listen to the message of the Birch, maybe I will be stronger. I should be rooted in something secure and true, like the nail scarred hands of Jesus' sacrifice on my behalf. I should cling to others and not try to go it alone. I should recognize that marriage like any worthwhile relationship is a process, takes time and energy, and the fruit of that may not be immediately obvious. And best of all, my skin with all its age spots and wrinkles can be peeled off someday, exposing a strong smooth core.

Ecclesiastes 4:12
Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Strength

Invariably, I tell my relatively new art students to bring a "simple" picture to sketch from and they show up with a picture of a forest. Since the focus of my class is not creativity, but exact drawing skill, we are now faced with trying to replicate all the sinews and tendons of a tree. This is almost as exacting as my college art class where I spent a semester drawing a stalk of broccoli. That professor was clearly out of his mind, and I suspect long ago in some sort of institution other than higher education.

So here is a free art lesson. Everyone grab paper and pencil- I'll wait. I tell the student first find the main part of the tree, the trunk, and draw that as exactly as you can. Most trunks are straight, though of course not all are, and start thickest at the base and grow narrower as they rise. I find that many young students consistently draw their trunks growing fatter as they rise.
One of my jobs is to help the student figure out what part of the drawing is "off".

"What will happen to your tree in the first breeze?" I ask, pointing to the skinny bottom and top heavy upper limit of the trunk.

And then, I have them draw only the 3 or 4 main limbs coming off the trunk. Again, those they are to draw as exactly as they can, following the sinuous and often shockingly beautiful curves.
And again, they often begin their life as a tree artist drawing the point where the limbs connect to the trunk skinny, getting fatter as they reach to their outer edges.

"What will happen to this limb when the first squirrel scampers on this branch?"

My young artists' trunks and branches will be snapping off right and left, crashing right off the page, smooshing innocent squirrels in a haze of pencil dust. They see it when I point it out, but strangely, most don't notice this incongruity until I do.

For various reasons, I have been thinking lately a good bit about the source of strength. I believe that the ultimate source of strength is God, He is the root of the tree of my life. But I also believe that like a tree, He has provided branches of strengthening influences that have varying effects depending on the distance from the trunk. I guess in my analogy, I am a branch, needing to stay connected to the trunk, but still reaching out to a life that will extend to a world filled with strong winds and fat squirrels. If my connection point is weak, I won't be a part of the tree much longer. I think one of the critical branches is the family, and the connection to family is one that is weakened only at our peril. I have reached the age where all the little twigs in my family are anxious to reach out even further and further to the endless sky of possibilities and I totally understand the need. I just hope they never feel that the twig can or should exist without the rest of the tree.

¹ A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit. ² The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of power,
the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD Isaiah 11:1-3