God's Spelling Lesson

I hate work sheets, fill in the blank type of questions. I think those kinds of things kill the capacity for true thinking. They require mental regurgitation, and that is a useful skill too, but in a day when every kid has an iPod in his pocket with access to the world wide web of information, it seems to me a less necessary skill than it used to be. It may also be that I am rationalizing my own inability to remember salient facts, but the point is, I am more prone to delve for deeper conceptual understanding in educating children.

And that is how we approach our daily Bible study.  Any smart kid quickly figures out that if you answer "Jesus", "prayer", or "Bible", you will likely get almost every Biblical question at least tangentially correct. I try to push Asherel to stretch for a fourth response when possible. Yesterday we were looking at a verse from Matthew 21-
"If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer."

I asked Asherel what she thought the whole passage that verse was buried in meant, summarized by that verse.
She didn't answer immediately, which is an affliction I have noticed in all my kids and my husband. They all take long pauses so that I am not even sure they heard me. If I am willing to wait, sometimes take a nap or have a snack while waiting, they do almost always eventually respond but our school days are too busy to wait an hour for answers to each question.

So what I often do is jump in and frame the question more carefully to speed things along. In this case, I explained the context of the paragraph, how Jesus first is shown overturning the  tables of opportunists selling sacrificial animals in the temple itself, berating the people that His Father's house is not a den of thieves, but a house of prayer.  He then passes a fig tree, and notices not a single fig is growing on it. He rebukes the fig tree , and in an instant, it withers. He tells his amazed disciples that they could do this and more, if only they would not doubt.

"What are the main words in the verse?" I then asked Asherel.
"Believe, receive, prayer," She answered.
I was excited that we were moving at a reasonable rate through this passage. I was thinking of all the places this study could take us- what does it mean to "bear fruit" for the kingdom of God, and what is the implication and link of the withered fig tree, and of Jesus' exhortation not to doubt? Why were the stories of greed, misuse of God's temple, and the unfruitful fig all linked in the chapter of belief and receiving? Which one of these amazing conceptual flights would my brilliant daughter choose to fly today?

"So," I summarized, as I have found that is sometimes another little tool to make the interminable pauses a little more terminal, "Believe, Receive.  What is God telling us?"

"I before E, except after C," answered Asherel.

And while on first blush, this is not quite the answer I was looking for, it is not a bad answer. God does give us rules. The rules are not meant to confound us, just like spelling rules are not meant to confuse us. They are all there to help us, to guide us, to keep us on the straight and narrow path of righteousness and ...literacy. We are free to break them. But when we do, we don't bear fruit, we don't nourish the world around us, and in the end, we may as well wither away. And the key to following the Rule Giver righteously is don't doubt, trust in the one who gave us the rules that they will lead us to the place we are meant to be, and He will bring us everyplace we are meant to be. Every word that He sends us will begin to make sense and we will have eyes that see, ears that understand, and we will be healed....And I strongly suspect we will have eternally perfect spelling.

Matthew 21:21-23 (New International Version)

 ²¹Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and it will be done. ²²If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer."

An aptitude for desirable discovery

I am bringing a dog to the theater for the production of Annie, but not in the coveted role of Sandy. The dog will instead be begging for money.  When the lady in charge of finding the canine star for Annie received my photos of Lucky, she also noticed my signature on the bottom of my email of hollowcreekfarm.org .  She went to their website, being an animal lover herself, and was awed by their work and their incredible success in saving thousands of animals. She asked if I might want to come to the running of Annie and set up a booth, free of charge, to promote HCF.  You all know that old saying, "Don't look a gift dog in the mouth." This is because many dogs do not have adequate dental care due to the extortionist rates charged to clean their teeth and the breath of a gift dog, or really any dog, could impair the nostril's ability to intake oxygen for decades. The other less literal meaning is when opportunity knocks, open the door.

So I will drive 100 miles in one day (I was a little disturbed when I mapquested the route to theater and HCF.... that far... really?....I ought to check out these kind of details before I make commitments.....) to pick up the dog from HCF that will be the canine ambassador and then hop skip back to the theater. The dog will spend the night with us and then we will go to the Sunday show as well.  I have no idea if we will receive any donations or volunteers or adopters by sitting in the theater lobby with the canine ambassador and a jar and a prayer. But it seemed too large a serendipity to pass up. Serendipity is my favorite word in the whole wide world. I would use it more but some people only know of definition #2 which I don't believe in, as opposed to definition #1.

–noun

1.

an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.

2.

good fortune; luck: the serendipity of getting the first job she applied for.

Serendipity is a relative newcomer in the English lexicon, though not as recent as "yomomma" or "google". It was used to describe the characteristics of the heroes of the 1754 Persian fairytale The Three Princes of Serendip by Horace Walpole,  in which the heroes possess this gift.

I do believe in an aptitude for serendipity, but I do not believe in luck. I don't think it was lucky at all that the theater manager loved dogs, asked for dogs for the role of Sandy, rejected my dog Lucky but saw my email tag for hollowcreekfarm.org and offered us a forum for donations/adoptions.  HCF has begun a new program, Northbound Hounds, where doomed dogs from southern "humane" societies about to be gassed are snatched away in the nick of time and ferried north where for some reason, it is easier to find them homes. Maybe they are so cold in the North that they need more dogs to snuggle with.

It is a wonderful program that has saved 25 dogs in just the past few weeks, but the funds for vetting, cleaning, innoculating, and prepping the dogs for their forever home has to come from somewhere.


So our canine ambassador will be Walter. I have written about him before. He is the big lovable dog with the cerebellar abnormality that makes him move like a bowl of jello. He is a gentle and lovable bowl of jello though and even if he doesn't raise a single donation, it will be a nice day for the dog who never met a person he didn't love and want to wrap his big clumsy paws around.


And since I don't believe in luck but instead believe that all things have a purpose and direction and are guided by an invisible hand, I suspect something very unexpected will happen at the theater Saturday night. Something too wonderful for me to imagine. I might not see it that night... or even in this life.... but I know that it will manifest itself in some remarkable way.  As we speak, I am sure angels are whispering in Walter's ears giving him instructions.


2 Corinthians 4:18
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Drought and Flood

There have been something like 30 straight days of no rain and low humidity. The bugs are lined up on the curb holding little tin cups out with signs, "Will work for water."

The nasty looking creatures we call "crickapeeds",  cricket/millipede mutants, are braving the Terminex chemicals in our home to seek a drop of sustenance.They congregate in the bathrooms, heads hanging, their million feet still and waiting. This is a poor choice. If Asherel finds them, they stand a chance of rescue to be tossed outside where they belong. If I find them, on the other hand.......

We never have much grass because the weeds tend to demand extortionist rates to allow "that kind" into the neighborhood, but even the weeds are dying and brown. The bushes are drooping, and the lovely birch has dropped half its leaves.

Most folks water their lawns. I am philosophically opposed to doing that. I believe that if plants can't make it on their own in our yard, then they are in the wrong place. I am considering putting up a sign on the curb to explain our position so the neighbors don't stone us. It is not like we have amassed any points towards "Neighbor of the Year Award" given the proclivity of our dog to fill the evening period of repose with very un-reposing sounds. But I feel like I am probably being harshly judged regarding the condition of our so-called "lawn". Perhaps if the neighbors knew that I am taking a stand of deep conviction they will not be as horrified.

And that tangled mess around our mailbox....well that could not be avoided. I tried. We have planted at various times sunflowers, mums, azalea, clematis, ivy, and small bushes. Nothing lived. Except grass. It is the one place where grass grows, though we can't get it to grow anyplace where we want it to grow. We have discovered that no other plants at that location could survive teenagers learning to drive over them, or my benign neglect gardening philosophy.

However, I do love the birch in the middle of our yard, and I could not bear to see it suffer.  So I buried my conscience, and pulled out the old sprinkler.  I turned it on and went to make dinner. That evening, I went to bed and realized that someone was taking a very very long shower. I dreamed of waterfalls.  In the morning, I remembered the sprinkler I had never turned off.

So the birch and the bushes got a good soaking, and the bugs are all joyfully laying out beach towels and drinking mimosas by the pools. There is no rain in the forecast, however and their joy will be short lived. Sometimes the environment is harsh. The things we know we need to thrive just are not forthcoming. Every moment, the thirst grows. The specifics may be different but I think the general needs are the same- love, respect, understanding, recognition for effort, connection with a universe, finding one's place and seeing it unoccupied and perfectly shaped to fit me and only me..... you all know the list.  But at times, the drought is never ending and all those drops of sustaining needs are withheld.  Other times, troubles wash over us like a flood, and threaten to sweep us away.

I think God is more merciful than I. I don't think His philosophy is "Green things, you are on your own. Survive by your own wits or perish."
I think He withholds what we think we need most to refine our understanding of what we truly need, and of where our strength comes from. The same Lord is the Lord of the drought and the Lord of the Flood. Whether withered or bloated, my limbs need to be reaching out to Him.  When I can sing with a throat parched or drowning, I may be on the cusp of understanding The Song. And I think then I  might recognize that He was sending me streams of living water all along, in the perfect amount.

Psalm 42:6-8 (New International Version)

⁶ my God.
       My soul is downcast within me;
       therefore I will remember you
       from the land of the Jordan,
       the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
 ⁷ Deep calls to deep
       in the roar of your waterfalls;
       all your waves and breakers
       have swept over me.
 ⁸ By day the LORD directs his love,
       at night his song is with me—
       a prayer to the God of my life.

Small things

Our school room certainly smelled like a biology laboratory. Asherel was bent over the new microscope, with pond water scum floating unappetizingly in the jars around her.  She had made her slides and was peering into the scope.
"What do you see!?" I asked.
"Nothing," she answered.
I elbowed my way into the Research Corner, and looked at the slide.
At first, it did indeed look like nothing, but then I focused the little knob and an ovular blog appeared. It had tiny squiggles inside it. I glanced at the biology book open before us.
"That's a paramecium!" I cried, triumphantly.
"You think?" asked Asherel dubiously.
"I am sure of it- it looks just like that picture."
Asherel looked at the paramecium, with less of the exultant enthusiasm one would expect after waiting a week for the new microscope to arrive, and then cleaned the mess up and dumped the pond water scum that had been brewing for weeks. It did seem a little anticlimatic. I think the paramecium was dead... or at least moving very slowly. I probably should have thrown a little coffee in the pond water. That might have made it more interesting.... paramecium on a caffeine high.

Meanwhile, in the other corner of the sunroom, the dog crate sat. Lucky has now slept relatively peacefully for two nights in a row, without barking at owls, chasing moonbeams at the top of his lungs, or seeing how much plastic crate a dog can swallow and still live.  The wire crate had been slightly unhooked at a corner, which was likely the result of the rattling that I had heard around 5 a.m., but it was intact, and Lucky was happy and peaceful when I let him out. I am not quite ready to declare victory, given the warning of the Titanic, that it was unsinkable. But I am hopeful.....

Little things sometimes give an abode of light. Little victories, little resolutions.  Had one never seen it before, when the sun first peeks over the mountain, one would never imagine that soon the whole earth would be filled with its brilliance.

I had a similar experience when I first encountered God. There were just little glimpses of Him. I would never have believed that given enough time, He would fill the screen.  Little things can become huge. A small sighting of a dead paramecium may spark the scientific career of someone who will cure cancer one day. A mustard seed becomes a mighty tree. A dog and its owners sleep through the night. A glimmer of faith becomes the whole world. Never despise the day of small things.


Zechariah 4: 9b-10
Then you will know that the LORD Almighty has sent me to you.  ¹⁰ "Who despises the day of small things?

Clouds as Ear Plugs

The next dog won't have one smidgen of terrier in it. It won't dig out of fences, bark at owls all night, chew apart heavy plastic crates, dissemble wire crates, or break little toes while playing tug with leash. If there is a next dog. Even cute and fluffy has its limits. Man does not live on cute alone, but on every minute of sleep that terriers deprive him of. I believe that is in the Bible, and if it isn't, it ought to be.

We set Lucky up with a nice fluffy soft bed in the bottom of his palatial plastic crate Carol had given us. We served him an appetizer to make his stay more pleasant, and turned back his sheets. We closed the door assuring him that room service would be back in the morning to serve him a complimentary full buffet breakfast.

And then, the sawing and pounding and clawing and grinding began. In the morning, a small slat of the thick plastic crate was pulverized. Plastic dust marked the demolition spot. The crate is not yet destroyed and useless, but one more night of the Terrier Take-down, and it will be. The donated wire crate was a little too small for Lucky, so under dire threat from Arvo who is losing sleep in buckets and is not at all happy about it, I went out to find an indestructible wire crate. It is him or the dog, he warned, and it isn't him that will be leaving our happy abode.  We donated both crates to Hollow Creek Farm where dogs are homeless, but not deranged.

I think this qualifies as one of those struggles in life where God is patiently trying to mold and shape me. It has been 8 years of trying to keep Lucky contained and civilized. Our expectations are not outrageous. We don't want him barking all night, and we don't want him escaping over the fence and heading off to busy suicide highways. I think we have tried everything we could, and now crating him, the dog who hates to be confined, is our last resort.

I have a few of these constant, ever present struggles in life. Paul of the Bible talks about a thorn in his side that despite constant pain, struggle, and prayer, the Lord saw fit not to remove. We all have them.  A sarcastic nature that wounds over and over again but can't be reined in, a rebellious child that we can't love into returning, a continual battle with mounting expenses and dwindling resources, a body that is growing weaker despite all our efforts to stop the flow of time, an algebra problem that we think is unsolvable though the text insists it can be done.....

Those little irritants sit like a tick in the back of our mind, growing and bloating as it sucks the life blood out of us.  God sees fit to let them remain sometimes. I have long since learned that "why" is a question God almost never answers. He never answered Job who begged to have counsel with Him over that very thing.  God only answers "how" with any consistency.  How  then are we to live, given these thorns that prick and bleed?
Turn your eyes to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, He tells us.
That's it? That's the best the creator of the Universe can offer?
It is. The Best. The Very Best. In the end, it is the Only thing.
When my eye is on Jesus, completely on Jesus, I don't see the dog eating concrete walls; I don't hear the grinding of canine teeth. I see my Savior, and the joy that one day will be mine... a good night's sleep with clouds as earplugs.

Hebrews 12:1-3 (New International Version)

¹Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. ²Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Washing away despair

Seven dogs were lined up in crates on the porch, all of them looking a little scared and a little hopeful we might pet them. The largest was a huge black Newfoundland, and the smallest were two pups a few months old. They all needed brushing, baths, medicine, ear cleaning, and toenail clipping.  They had all just been pulled from area rescues, all slated to die, and all reprieved by Hollow Creek Farm.

Fortunately for HCF, this time they had some help. Four volunteers tackled the job that HCF often does alone, and it still took 2 hours. We discovered the Newfie, with some areas of hair so matted that we had to cut them off, knew how to shake. He good naturedly sat as we tugged, and combed and pulled through massive matts that had probably never seen a brush, and then Alex, the child volunteer, said, "Shake."

The sweet giant dog lifted his massive paw and laid it gently on Alex's lap. Either the polite greeting "Shake" resides deep in dogs' DNA, or someone had taught this matted, unbrushed, skinny, and homeless dog to shake paws. They had neglected details like feeding, brushing, or neutering him, but he knew how to greet the human world genteelly.

  None of the dogs acted like they had ever had a bath, but the sparkling and beautiful fluffy creatures that emerged sweet smelling when we were all done strutted a little more proudly on the end of the leash. They get their pictures taken tomorrow, and when HCF has had time to make sure any issues that need resolving are resolved, their pictures will be posted on hollowcreekfarm.org and they will wait for a family to love.

They will share the living room couch with the dog that HCF hopes to bring home from the shelter next. A dog with no eyes.
"I mean, why not?" she asks me, "I don't have a dog with no eyes yet!" 
That dog is not likely to be adopted. It will share the home with the other dogs no one wants that found safe landing at Hollow Creek.  But the seven freshly scrubbed creatures now resting are hopeful. Surely someone will want a giant dog who lifts a paw with the gentleness of a cloud to shake hands with his new friends?

There are always a thousand reasons not to go volunteer or not to send money. And then when I get there and greet those animals who have chosen to reside peacefully with humanity for thousands of years, and so often abandoned and misused.....

"Where have you been? " asked Walter, the big mixed breed with the cerebellar anomaly that makes him wobble and crash into my legs as he enthusiastically says hello. His head shakes like a bobble-head doll, and he slathers me with kisses of infinite forgiveness.

Zephaniah 3:
¹⁹ At that time I will deal
       with all who oppressed you;
       I will rescue the lame
       and gather those who have been scattered.
       I will give them praise and honor
       in every land where they were put to shame.  ²⁰ At that time I will gather you;
       at that time I will bring you home.
       I will give you honor and praise
       among all the peoples of the earth
       when I restore your fortunes 
       before your very eyes,"
       says the LORD.

In Wisdom they are all made......ugh!

We plan to spend the day at Hollow Creek Farm helping them wash dogs in preparation for the happy canines going to their new homes. This is a wonderful event, and one I am glad to be part of. We even cajoled some new friends into joining us and help with the ongoing fence building/poop scooping projects that are never-ending at an animal rescue farm. With the farm nestled in the country an hour south of Charlotte, it is not always easy to find time to get out there, but I am always glad when I do.

"Because," I told Asherel one day, "We are commanded by God to treat animals kindly."
Voices were raised about me, skeptical as to the Biblical basis for that comment. I won't name any names about the heathens challenging my biblical knowledge. The challenger knows that while I may perhaps get the correct gist  of the verse, I rarely know how to retrieve it.
"I mean, of course we should treat animals well, but I just don't think we are commanded to do so," continued the Skeptic of my biblical accuracy.

"Yes, we are," I countered,"It is in Psalms somewhere. It is written on the door of the pet shop in Carmel Commons."
"It is not!" said Asherel, who watches all pet shop doors with eagle eyes, prowling for another frilly outfit for her long suffering Honeybun.

"Et tu, Brutus? " I cried.

Now I assure you followers who read this blog faithfully hoping for nuggets of biblical wisdom to drop into your lap like jewelry from heaven that most of my biblical understanding is not gleaned from doors of pet shops. I do indeed read the Bible, at least a little, every day. Pet shop doors can be useful as biblical reinforcement, is all I am saying.

And two days ago, on our way up the stairs to the dentist at Carmel Commons, we passed that very pet shop door of which I had spoken. Asherel stopped dead in her tracks and said in amazement, "There is a verse on the door!"
"Have I ever lied to you?" I said.
And there it was, from Proverbs (ha!- I was close)-

Proverbs 12:10

A righteous man cares for the needs of his animal 

 which in the more colloquial version The Message Bible, translates to    

"Good people are good to their animals."

I smiled smugly as we walked by The Door.  I was less smug when the father of Asherel's new friend picked up a little snake in our front yard and held it tantalizingly close to my horrified face. I hate snakes. It is just a visceral response, and quite at odds with my love of all other creatures God has made.  Yet the man let the little snake slither all over his hands, and as I watched it, I did have to admit it had beautiful markings, it was remarkably well-behaved for a snake, and as Asherel kept repeating, it was small and even cute in a snakish way. I realized as I watched the snake that I am a hypocrite. I have realized this at various points in my life, but I knew right then that God was talking to me through the little snake. I am not supposed to just love the furry and cute creatures in His creation. I am to love them all. They all bear the marks of His hand. And similarly, sometimes, it is the most unlikely, most unlovable people that I am to work most hard at loving.  They were no less crafted by a loving God than me. I don't like to admit it, but I am quick to judge and quick to put at a distance the creatures that I don't find  compelling.

As the man put the little snake down, it quickly slithered away to a hole in the base of the tree, and I realized that was likely its home. I would have more opportunities to learn to love all creatures great and small. Oh goody.


Psalm 104: 24-25
 ²⁴ How many are your works, O LORD!
       In wisdom you made them all;
       the earth is full of your creatures.
 ²⁵ There is the sea, vast and spacious,
       teeming with creatures beyond number—
       living things both large and small.