Battles

Ferret care for a friend was on our list of Black Friday tasks. We brought Matt and his wife Karissa to visit the ferret with us. The ferret can ooze his long agile body through a space approximately 5 nanometers wide. Thus, it was no surprise to see the ferret, Leo, had escaped from his cage through a broken wire. He had had a heyday while the folks were away. The rabbit in a nearby cage had been terrorized- we could tell that by the spray of rabbit food all over the living room.  Then Leo had ripped open the ferret food bag and tossed it like confetti where the rabbit food hadn't quite reached. Next, he seems to have hopped the enclosure to the rest of the house, chewed up some small rubber things, and then decided the world was now his toilet. Little poop piles were scattered about like land mines. Not satisfied with the horror his family would feel upon returning to this mess, he had gotten in the potted plant and spewed dirt like projectile vomit all over that corner of the room. The strange thing is that unlike a dog, when we glared at him, he didn't look like he felt at all guilty.

Nonetheless, Karissa loved the ferret and wrapped him around her neck. She admitted she loves fur, but had made a pact with herself never to buy fur with a face. While holding the ferret, he went totally limp in her hands and fell fast asleep. I think there is a ferret in my son Matt's future.

What to do about the escape route? We rummaged in our friend's garage which is filled with tools, but not a thing that looked like it could fix the cage. Asherel finally found hose clamps which we unscrewed and straightend. Then clever Karissa spotted metal cooking spoons with long metal handles. We couldn't use duct tape or plastic or ties because Leo would chew through them. However, Karissa wedged the metal spoons securely in the bars, covering the gap and used the straightened hose clamps to criss-cross over the spoons and doubly insure they would stay put.

We returned that night with Arvo and a bag of tools,wire, clamps to make a more permanent fix, fully expecting the same catastrophe to meet our eyes. But Leo was asleep, the trap still secured. And a pile of poop inside the cage right near our fix confirmed that he had likely attempted escape and failed. Arvo decided the spoon fix was better than anything else we could have devised, so we left it. We had a nice visit with Leo and Bunny, and headed home victorious. In the battle of wits, we had beat a ferret. It is surprising how satisfying that was.

There are never ending battles in life. The battle to choose wisely, overcome greed, overcome pride, overcome anger, demonstrate compassion, give generously, love unreservedly, conquer illness, overcome the siren call of a 5 pound bag of gummy worms... The list goes on and on and on. Sometimes defeat pummels us far too often and victory seems to be only a dream others manage to grasp. We seem to fall short again and again.

I love the Psalms. I love them because the psalmists were realists. They were repeatedly felled by defeat, often the result of their own sin. They experienced and wrote about all the despair that continual failure wraps around even the strongest psyche. But the overwhelming message is that if they could manage to cling to God, however feebly through it all, they would ultimately taste victory. They recognized that their own efforts could only get them so far. With relief, they understood that their struggle was not just observed by an indifferent cosmic spectator, but was joined by a God who longed to help them. God did not always or even usually remove the battle, but He stood with them in the fray. And no matter the outcome, He would be able to gather their remains and lift them to a place of rest. They could curl around His presence, secure and confident that His solutions were the only ones worth having.

Leo burrowed under a blanket in his cage as we closed the cage door. He squirmed under his warm cave for a moment and then all was still. He was already asleep as we tiptoed out.

Proverbs 21: 30-31
³⁰ There is no wisdom, no insight, no plan
   that can succeed against the LORD.
 ³¹ The horse is made ready for the day of battle,
   but victory rests with the LORD.

Psalm 84: 1-3
  ¹ How lovely is your dwelling place,
   LORD Almighty!
² My soul yearns, even faints,
   for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
   for the living God.
³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
   and the swallow a nest for herself,
   where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
   LORD Almighty, my King and my God.

Worth the Effort?

The first decision was whether to remove the thin brown skin from the chunks of milky white coconut. Most websites said I should remove the skin. However, one or two said it provided good roughage and trace elements,and could be grated with the white meat. After the recent spate of deaths from contaminated cantaloupes, I was already feeling a little worried about eating the coconut we had broken open, scalped of its white center, and gathered in a bowl. I decided to cut off the thin brown skin. First I tried a paring knife. It worked, and I should be able to finish paring all the chunks by the time my grandchildren enter college. By the way,  as of yet, I have no grandchildren. So then I tried a potato peeler. All I succeeded in peeling was a thin layer of my thumb.

I decided to trust the internet sites that said the brown skin could be eaten.

Next, I set up the food processor and rummaged through the cute little attached drawer at its base. Ah, here was a disc that said "grater". I had never used anything but the chopper in my food processor. In truth, I rarely use my food processor. And if we must be totally honest, I rarely go beyond the basics with any food. I leave the processing to people who know their way around a kitchen. I pulled the instructions out of the handy little drawer. I followed the steps carefully, and when it was all assembled, put a few chunks of coconut into the food chute. I turned it on and a button from the top popped off, a spring went rolling on the floor, and a small plastic tab fell onto the counter. This little dime sized plastic tab that was supposed to hold the top on had broken. My $200 food processor was useless. Not to be deterred, I saved the pieces and put them aside for Asherel to look at later. Then I got a roll of duct tape. I put the coconut in the processor, and duct taped the top closed. I pressed "pulse on". Bits of coconut chunks got wedged in the inadequately secured food tube. I got out the food chopper blade of the Processor, emptied the coconut bits to a bowl, put on the new blade, and returned the coconut bits with their brown lining to the Processor. In five seconds, the coconut was chopped into tiny bits. I tasted it, willing to fall on the sword for my family should this coconut be tainted like the killer Cantaloupes I had read about. It was good, though a little chewier than store bought coconut. When I didn't drop dead, I decided to proceed.

"What are you making?" asked Asherel, walking in the kitchen. The counter and floor were covered with bits of coconut. A pile of dismanted food processor parts was tangled in the sink. I presumed she meant besides a mess, so I answered, "I don't know. Maybe macaroons."
I returned to the computer and looked up "fresh coconut recipes". I finally found one for chocolate macaroons with only 4 ingredients. The instructions included the word easy, which is a critical component in all the recipes I follow. I followed the instructions step by step.
Oh... 3 cups of coconut? My 4 cup measure was currently unavailable, filled with chicken gravy. I held the bowl of coconut up.
Yeh, I think that is about 3 cups. I dumped the coconuts in the mixing bowl.
Oh, why doesn't it say how much chocolate to use? The amount of chocolate was apparently up to the cook's discretion. I poured in a half bag.

I spooned the mixture, teaspoon by teaspoon, onto the pan, and then set the oven timer for 20 minutes, as prescribed.
Twenty minutes later, I took the baking pans out of the oven. The macaroons had spread out to a thin, flat layer across the pan. There were 12 bumps of coconut every few inches across the vast chocolate plain.
"Smells good!" said Arvo. He looked at it.
"I don't think it worked," I said.
Asherel, lured by the smell of chocolate came into the kitchen. She grabbed a spoon and scooped up some of the spreading chocolate with the coconut mound.
"Yum!"
Armed with a clever idea now, I waited for my family to leave, and then I began scooping globs of the cooling mixture and forming them into balls. Then I stuck the balls in the refrigerator. I only got about 20 macaroons for approximately 4 hours of labor, counting the coconut cleaving from the previous day. However, I ate one. Delicious!

Sometimes, one's effort expended exceeds the results to such a degree, that one has to wonder, why bother?  I know there were times during childbirth I felt that way, and there were certainly times during child rearing I felt that way. There have been  vacations I have planned that were disastrous in the end. There have been camping trips that took hours to prepare for, pack, set up camping sites, gather food,and cooking stove, and pots and pans, ...and when we arrived at the campground, all it did for three days was rain. And we sat in the soggy tents on soggy sleeping bags, playing cards, while the rain formed rivers of mud around our tent. Was it worth the effort, given the results?

I know I am not alone in this. Poor Paul of the Bible was overwhelmed by his efforts to transform the Galatians into Christ followers. They showed initial zeal and enthusiasm, but as soon as he left them, they returned to their old ways, and were seduced by false prophets. All his effort seemed to go to waste. Unlike his other letters of the New Testament, he doesn't greet them with his typical words of delight and encouragement. He is ticked off! He leaps right into berating them, asking them how they could so quickly abandon the wonderful truth of Grace, and return to the fruitless methods of legalism to work their way towards God. In the end, we never learn if the Galatians heeded Paul's warning. The church of Galatia is not mentioned in Revelations. Had it disintegrated ? In the end, was it worth Paul's effort if only to lose them?
In verse 4 of the book of Galatians, Paul speaks of a present evil age. He is reminding all of us that there is a present darkness, but then assures us that victory will come in the end. We must finish the job. We must persevere, until the victory is secured. He reminds the Galatians in the closing of the letter that there is a new creation, a new world. The old world will vanish. Don't give up.
His letter is a reminder that we can fall away, we can lose the victory if we stop short of the finish line. In the end, it is worth the effort. It is worth the struggle.

"Can I have another macaroon?" called Asherel.
"No, I am putting them in a glass trophy case next to Anders' international gold medals," I answered.

Galatians 4: 3-4, 8-11,14-16
³ Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, ⁴ who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, ⁵ to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.  ⁸ Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods. ⁹ But now that you know God—or rather are known by God—how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable force^]? Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again? ¹⁰ You are observing special days and months and seasons and years! ¹¹ I fear for you, that somehow I have wasted my efforts on you.
 ¹⁴ May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. ¹⁵ Neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything; what counts is the new creation. ¹⁶ Peace and mercy to all who follow this rule—to the Israel of God.

Triple Falls

I am wired strangely. Whenever I most need to sleep, I don't. It is only when the stress level is low and my body could probably do fine on 5 hours that I manage to snooze for the suggested 9.2. So I lay awake a good  portion of the night last night, reconfiguring in my mind the luggage I hoped to carry on the plane to Amy's house today.

It would have been better to have filled my head with images of the Triple Falls hike we had done that afternoon, en route home from the Beatles Tribute show. It was a perfect day for hiking, and Asherel's friend Emma was such an easy going companion as the three of us headed up the steep mountain.
"How about if I just find a picture on my iPod of a waterfall and we can just rest here?" suggested Asherel.
"Please tell me you don't mean that," I said.

Emma is a rock climber and there were rocks galore to climb, as long as one didn't mind 3 million gallons of water per second splashing against you. I dipped my feet in the frigid mountain water and watched the girls, each second weighing the potential for death or dismemberment in their chosen activity. I try not to let my own fears translate to too much restriction on those in my charge, but sometimes it is hard. Especially given the slippery rocks and the copperhead snake Emma had recoiled from as we reached this little paradise.

So I laid down some rules that I hoped would keep instant death at bay, and then held my breath as they scampered.  Then they looked back and Asherel beckoned to me to follow. They were going up...high...atop a boulder.
I shook my head. Other people were silhouetted against the sky, a couple of cliffs above them, standing by a third cascading deluge of water. They were tiny against the blue.

"Don't go any higher!" I called.
A lady with a Dalmatian passed me.
"It is really not as bad as it looks," she urged me, "I climb this all the time."
"Does your dalmatian smile?" I asked. As a breed, most dalmatians smile and it is why I love the breed. We owned one that smiled and one that didn't.
"Yes," she answered.
How could I not trust a lady with a smiling dalmatian?

So I groaned to my feet and climbed cautiously up after the girls. Emma led the way, knowing better than we which path would lead most likely to our chances of returning for our shoes in one piece. We reached the top of the first flat expanse where the second water fall took its plunge.
"No higher," I said, glancing at the view below with only a slight lurch of my stomach.
"It is fine, really,"  said the smiling Dalmation lady, who had left the happy dog with her husband below.
The girls looked beseechingly at me.
"Fine," I said, "But don't go anywhere near the edge when we get up there or I will die."
So the three of us, and the smiling Dalmation Lady all climbed the boulder to the next large flat table of rock. This time as I looked down, my stomach did more than a slight lurch, but the view was spectacular.
The smiling Dalmation lady took our picture so we could prove we had been there. And then the girls started to place their hands on a fourth upward soaring cliff.
"No," I said, "Not that I don't want to, of course, but we are out of time."

We climbed carefully back down, and when we reached the bottom, I cried out, "I did it!!!"
Emma pumped her fists in the air, and Asherel looked less embarrassed than  usual from my outbursts.

As we headed back to the car,  I told the girls about the story the dalmation lady told me. Two men with a canoe had done the climb we had just done and then gone down the waterfall in the canoe.
"They did it several times, til they flipped over."
"Don't worry," said Emma, "I promise I would never go down a waterfall in a canoe. I wonder why anyone would do that? It's so dangerous!"
"Well rock climbing is dangerous too," I pointed out, "But each time you do something and get good at it, you want to do something a little harder. I never thought I would dare go past the bunny slope skiing....but soon the bunny slope was boring."

And maybe that is why God sends us so many challenges in life. If we just hang out at those first baby steps of faith, we never know what mountains we might be able to conquer. We might never see the magnificent views that He has created for only those who don't lose heart. Life is filled with frights, and dangers, and it was never meant to be viewed from an iPod.

Isaiah 7: 3-4
³ Then the LORD said to Isaiah, “Go out, you and your son Shear-Jashub, to meet Ahaz at the end of the aqueduct of the Upper Pool, on the road to the Launderer’s Field. ⁴ Say to him, ‘Be careful, keep calm and don’t be afraid. Do not lose heart..."

On the Rocks

It seems like a preponderance of loved ones are currently on the injured list. Our beloved agility mentor Polly has a badly broken wrist. She broke it the day we were to take her kayaking, before we showed up, I might add. Another friend is due any day to go in for a double mastectomy. And then poor dear sister Amy is back in the hospital with the second flare up of her pancreas in two weeks and on day 4 of no food. She advanced from being allowed just ice chips, to ice chips and water yesterday. That is her Memorial Day feast and she is not happy about it. And always there are our old friends in the Nursing home, who are waiting for a break in the ever present thunderstorms so I can take them to a "real steak restaurant." (We are scheduled for Thursday.0 I lay in bed last night thinking over all the aging, hurting, injured loved ones in my life and said out loud, "Help."

I feel guilty admitting I had a nice day kayaking with Arvo and Asherel and friend Josh on a lake I had never visited before. Oh sure, we got yelled at by the lake police, but it was not for a felony. They did speak harshly to us as though it were, however. We did the unthinkable crime of swimming in the lake. Yes, hardened criminals that we were, we actually dipped into the water on the 90 degree day. Good thing our government is so well funded that they can catch criminals like us. I think that alone should persuade congress to raise the debt ceiling. If 40 % of government services were cut back should they not raise the debt ceiling, who will apprehend the children swimming in the county lakes? Later we saw those same clever police pulling over a boat. They actually had red flashing lights on their police boat and moored themselves to the offending family of holiday boaters. I was not sure what the family had done, but I think they had been suspected of plotting to swim in the lake.

We kayaked to the middle of the lake where there was a picturesque cluster of large rocks. They were more picturesque from a distance, because up close it was clear that the rocks were used as the Latta Lake Goose Latrine. However, it was quite stunning, those big rocks sticking up in the  middle of the smooth blue water. We discovered as we kayaked that throughout this apparently shallow lake,  rocks lurked just below the surface. As I was in my inflatable kayak, I had to pay close attention, since a sharp rock could slice through my kayak.

This lake is just like life! It is very very beautiful from a distance. Serene even, surrounded by peaceful forests, quietly lapping water against pristine shores, rocks jutting in perfect composition to the whole delightful panorama. But then when you get down to the nitty gritty, to the actual navigating across that bucolic scene, you hit submerged rocks, goose poop, and are not allowed the relief of the cool waters.
Life is never smooth and never easy for long.

The apostle Paul was shipwrecked on rocks once. His fellow shipmates wanted to try to escape on lifeboats, or kill the prisoners the boat was carrying to justice, or save the heavy load of food . Most were succumbing to despair. But Paul told them not a single one would be lost to the sea and the rocks if they would just trust in his God. He urged them to cut away the lifeboats, throw the food overboard, and stay with the ship. In the end, everyone made it safely to shore. The rocks indeed splintered the ship, but it became the planks by which those who couldn't swim made it to the beach.

Despite the struggle of lifting the kayak back on the car, sweating to strap it down securely, packing up the multitude of necessary equipment for an outing on the lake, and having had a few anxious moments with the lake patrol and the lake rocks......I would still do it again. Hopefully tomorrow.

A few hours after we dropped Josh back home, I got an email from his mom. She told me Josh said he had a fantastic time, and by the way, there might be snails in the car, and I might want to go check.
Snails?
I sent Asherel out to the car and she returned with a warm bottle of cooked snails.
"I think they are dead," she said.

To all my beloved ones crashing against the rocks of life today, I just want to lift a prayer for you- don't abandon the ship, and be thankful you are not snails.

 Acts 27: 29-32, 42-44
²⁹ Fearing that we would be dashed against the rocks, they dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight. ³⁰ In an attempt to escape from the ship, the sailors let the lifeboat down into the sea, pretending they were going to lower some anchors from the bow. ³¹ Then Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay with the ship, you cannot be saved.” ³² So the soldiers cut the ropes that held the lifeboat and let it drift away. ⁴² The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners to prevent any of them from swimming away and escaping. ⁴³ But the centurion wanted to spare Paul’s life and kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and get to land. ⁴⁴ The rest were to get there on planks or on other pieces of the ship. In this way everyone reached land safely.

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.

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.”

Drops Filling an Ocean

Our DI team did fantastically well. They won first place, but I can tell you that without boasting because there was only one team in their division. As long as they made it up on stage, they were guaranteed first place. But everyone of them was working towards achieving a high enough score that they felt they would be worthy to attend the "Global Final"- the international collection of thousands of DI winners from all over the world.

One team barely made it on stage- as they were setting up, a piece of PVC pipe caught a little boy in the face, and lacerated his cheek. He was rushed to the hospital for stitches and his team valiantly performed without him. This is very difficult since each member has parts and roles worked on for almost a year.

My team is made up of very different people. Some are artists, some singers, some actresses, some daydreamers, some builders, some comedians, some thoughtful, some hasty, some goofy, some brainy, some serious.... They come from families all with their unique struggles and stresses. It is a huge commitment for them to show up once a week for two hours for almost a year to work on this extracurricular task in the midst of the busyness of life. We always have issues to deal with, to work through. Our differences are constantly bumping up against our task, and sometimes the biggest lesson is leaving the session still liking each other.

Before our contest, Arvo, Asherel and I went hiking in the gorgeous Dupont State forest. Just two hours from Charlotte, I had not even known it existed. In the space of an hour, we saw a half dozen of some of the most spectacularly beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen. We hiked to the top of the mountain and stood a long time watching the river as it approached the sudden drop over the cliff just a couple of hundred feet ahead. The water seemed peaceful, even lazy as it slid under the bridge we stood on. I thought about all those thousands of drops of water, coalescing and rambling along, not knowing that ahead of them, they were about to cascade on the ride of their life. Each drop of water was unique, yet each was being pushed together and forced to rush down that river to their ultimate resting place, the ocean. As they plunged over the precipice, some of the drops would be flung heavenward and briefly exult in moments of individual brilliance, catching the sun, painting a rainbow, but ultimately, that drop too would fall back with the others and tumble to the sea.

Team Waterfall reminded me of Team DI and Team family... and every group of humans that endeavor to reach a goal. There is so much pushing and shoving along the way, periods of uncomfortable obstacles to smash against, portions of the path that split and diverge and travel separate routes, frightening but exhilarating plunges to new, untraveled territory, and finally, a rushing together to a common goal. It is easy for the water drops, they have no choice. They can't reach the cliff edge and say , "I am not heading over that waterfall with all you suicidal droplets... I am heading back upstream for a nice rest on the warm rock and evaporating trip to Tahiti." Nope, they can't choose Tahiti- they can't choose to not plunge with the other drops.

We can. We do have a choice. I am always sad when we humans don't all glide silkily together. It sometimes seems so impossible a task. So that makes moments like yesterday so special when my team stood on stage, and for 8 minutes united beautifully with one goal and one mind and every parent breathed the same sigh of relief when no one fainted, no one missed any discernible part, and they all were smiling at the end. I am a staunch individualist, and yet, if I am going over a waterfall, I want to be holding the hands of a team. And I want us all to be cascading to the right place.

Philippians 3:13,14

Forgetting what lies behind and straining
forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of
the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.