White as Snow

Our first snowboard/ski trip is in a week! It is forecast to be 70 degrees today, and the ski mountain is only 2 hours away. The ski season in NC is unpredictable, and it doesn't feel likely that there will be snow, even the fake snow those resorts can produce, given the current warmth. But you never know. The weather, like life, can turn on a dime.

I have been having an extended Facebook discussion with someone that I am not even sure how I know her. She feels that we should butt out of Iran's affairs, and if they want nuclear weapons, let them have them! She is unconcerned and in fact doesn't believe the threats that Iran's leader has made against Israel. We have had several back and forths about the moral/legal rights of the Jews vs. the Palestinians. I have learned a great deal in carrying on this discussion. For one, I have learned that I have vastly different views from this person and nothing I say seems to matter. But apparently a common argument for Palestinian rights to the land is that they are descended from the Philistines, who this woman claims, were there first. A little research blows that myth out of the water however. The Philistines were not even Arab. They were from Crete, and invaded the land of Canaan. They are now an extinct group- no one can legitimately claim roots to them, and if they could, they would recognize the Philistines have no legitimate claim on the Palestine area. The Palestinians were largely Jordanians, who upon the Jewish homeland being reestablished, became Palestinians overnight. There is no Palestinian nation, nor has there ever been one. Now, I can't read everything out there  but the several articles I did read supported this. However, the point that really hit me is that here was someone getting furious with me, using capital letters to scream at me in email, but she insists if we just treat the Arab nations more nicely, they would love us back. I don't know. History is not with her on this.

I remember when the cops subdued Rodney King, driving over a hundred miles an hour with 2 and 1/2 the legal blood alchohol limit. The cops were brutal when they caught him, and his plaintive oft quoted response later was, "Can't we all just get along?"
I certainly do not uphold police brutality, but honestly, this convicted felon who had a history of brutal crime and would go on to be arrested for other crimes was hardly the poster child to wonder why human beings aren't nicer to each other.

On the other hand, on one point, I could not agree with this Facebook acquaintance more. War is horrid. We should never enter war without the absolute most egregious provocation. But the discussion brought me in my own conscience to a more personal level. How well do I get along with my family or friends when we reach sharp differences in opinion? How well do I treat the people I meet who find my views wrong, or offensive? I have to admit that I doubt Jesus would be applauding my efforts at times. If I can't get along with those I love best perfectly, with motives as pure as the snow that I hope will be on the ski mountain in a week....how could I begin to think nations would exist in peace? In the end, it all boils down to the human heart, and to be even more specific, my human heart. I don't know about you, but my heart is usually not holy and righteous. I try....really I do, but failure knocks me down at least a few hundred times a day.

And then I look at the little creche Asherel made for me. I keep it out all year long, as a reminder. Jesus came into the world that I might know peace, that I might understand purity, that I might be cleansed and restored to my eternal homeland. I fail, but He did not. He did exactly what He was born to do and He did it perfectly. I have four little creches out at Christmas. I need reminders wherever I look, and this season always thrills me....even when there is no snow.

Isaiah 1:17-19

¹⁷ Learn to do right; seek justice.
   Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
   plead the case of the widow.
 ¹⁸ “Come now, let us settle the matter,”
   says the LORD.
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
   they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red as crimson,
   they shall be like wool.
¹⁹ If you are willing and obedient,
   you will eat the good things of the land;

Where to find Peace

I looked in all the usual places.....no Lucky. The chronic escapist, trouble making dog was not in any of his beds, couches, or crates early this morning, as I crept out of my room, with darkness still dripping from the night.
Ohoh.  I had taken off his electric collar, thinking at nearly 9 years old, surely surely he no longer wanted to dig tunnels or climb the fence to get out of the large, lush back yard that had everything a dog could want.
I hurried out back, noticing stars still twinkling in the still, cold sky.

Lucky lay in the middle of the yard. Honeybun raced out at my heels, and seeing the golden blob on the grass, she began barking to warn me of this alien intruder.
"That's your brother, dope," I told her.
Lucky looked at us, as though there was nothing at all unusual in him spending the night curled up on the cold, damp ground.
"Lucky, do you want to eat?" I called.
He gazed at us, but remained still in the quiet night. Honeybun began twirling in circles and racing back and forth to her food bowl. I glanced a few times at Lucky as the sun began to lighten the dawn. He didn't move, except to peacefully turn his head and perk his ears at the sounds of the world awakening. Lucky seemed to be quietly greeting the new day.

Matt texted me last night. He thinks he may have broken some fingers, which he will have xrayed today. This is not happy news at any time, but particularly as he heads into his last week of his first year of law school.
Did you break them turning so many thousand of pages of law books? Or perhaps typing so many thousands of words of papers and briefs ? Perhaps you broke them while lugging all your books back and forth from the library where you were busily preparing for your final exams?


No, he broke them playing frisbee. Law school is rough, I guess.


And then he texted me, "and I got attacked by a dog."
What!? Were you attacked by the dog while walking to your professor's home where you would discuss some of the fascinating cases you are studying? Were you attacked in the early morning as you trudged through the mist to a study group of other devoted students? Or in the evening having worked hours on your paid research job in hopes of glowing recommendations to gain you the best internship possible to fund your marriage in two months?

No, he was attacked while on a run. A pleasure run, I might add. Not a run to the library, or professor, or job.

It is not that I want my son miserable, or working every second of every day.... I just find it curious that this first year law student has time to do anything but study. It just seems like misplaced serenity....like Lucky spending the night just watching the bats flit overhead. He did well his first semester, so I will just hope that he is putting in the time and effort he needs to pass.

Then he texted me a new recipe he had made up for making quiche. He had devised a clever way to make a gourmet low fat crust. He typed in all the delicious, healthy ingredients, that even I would have no idea where to go to shop for.

"Well if law school doesn't work out , you could become a chef," I suggested.

I went to check on Lucky. Maybe he was injured? He still lay in the middle of the grass, shivering a little. I walked over to him, and he wagged his tail and stood up. All seemed fine. The noises of the neighborhood were slowly erupting across the stillness as the sun rose. He looked around, sniffing. Sometimes you just have to settle into the silence, and the joy, and the delight of the world. Sometimes you just have to step outside the daily grind and hear the beating of your own heart in the infinite stretch of the sky. Sometimes you have to break fingers playing frisbee instead of laboriously turning countless pages. I tend to be more like Job, who cries out , " I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest but only turmoil." (Job 3:26).  I like that my son and my dog can remove themselves from the ravaging tumult of overwhelming business and noise of life. As long as they know when to come in......

Lucky finally came in and scarfed down his breakfast. The hard work of a dog began. There were countless people walking by the house that he would need to bark at. Servicemen would be traipsing in nearby yards that he would need to terrorize. Squirrels would need to be chased, and holes would need to be dug. But for that brief portion of that cold still night, he had known peace.

It might not come so easily to me, but I do know the source of real peace. It is the only time I have found true quietness for my soul. It is when I have opened the pages of His book and rested in His promises.

We were reading a novel about World War 2 yesterday. It is a true story of a man who went to war, was gravely injured, and crippled for life as a result. He was filled with anger, bitterness, and despair over what he had seen, what he had done, and what he had become. But his mother had given him a book, a very important book, he wrote, which he had stashed at the bottom of his backpack before he had gone off to war.
I paused in my reading to Asherel, "And what book was that?" I asked smiling.
She wrinkled her head in thought. "The phone book?"
I blinked at her.
"The phone book? Her only son is going off to war, she herself is dying and may never see him again, and the important book she slips in his backpack is the phone book?"
Sometimes I wonder if this whole homeschool thing is working.
I think I need to go lie in the cold, damp backyard with Lucky under the stars and regain some peace.

Psalm 4:7-8

⁷ Fill my heart with joy
   when their grain and new wine abound.
 ⁸ In peace I will lie down and sleep,
   for you alone, LORD,
   make me dwell in safety.