Immortality

The Turritopsis Jellyfish can age backwards, from adult to baby, and can do so infinite times. If threatened by disease, starvation, or other crises, it can revert to a blob of cells in an embryonic state. Those cells can differentiate into whatever cell is needed- a cell that started life as a muscle cell, can become a sensory cell, for example. The catch is that this process can only happen when the Immortal Jellyfish is under some sort of stress or danger. Old age alone will not allow it to defy death and go back to the jellyfish cradle. It can and will often die of old age.

My son sent me this information yesterday morning. I know he is close to finals time in his second year of law school.
"Taking a break from studying?" I asked, as I perused the Immortal Jellyfish article he had just sent across the gmail chat box.
"No, in class," he typed back.
"Is the professor discussing Immortal Jellyfish? No, I didn't think so...."
Good to see my son taking his studies so seriously...

But the article was intriguing. I wonder if scientists have hopped on this little fountain of youth and dissected just what mechanism triggers this process. If they bottled it, it would be more valuable than diamonds. And why, why, why did God waste this miracle of eternity on a jellyfish? Of all the creatures that I would love to see bounce back from mortal injury, the jellyfish is not on my list. Inscrutable. (Good SAT word, Asherel, look it up.) God's ways are clearly not my ways.

I have been increasingly convicted that I know nothing of God. I believe He is real, I believe He loves us, I believe He speaks to us, but the more I know Him, the less I really understand Him. So why have I spent two years every single day writing about His messages that I believe He is transmitting? I don't know. I don't understand that either. I just feel I am supposed to.

But immortality to a jellyfish? I mean, jellyfish don't even have brains. All they have is a loose network of nerves called a nerve net. They don't have a backbone either. Why, why, why did God give immortality to a brainless, spineless blob?

Let us reason together here, Lord.
Careful, mortal one, remember, you do have a brain and a backbone. Do you really want to be a jellyfish? 
Well no, that is not the point. You are the creator. You could have made the jellyfish die and us immortal.
Yes, and were you to live on forever in the state of rebellion and sin you are currently exhibiting, do you think that would have been wise?
Well, do you have to phrase it in such a negative way?
Or even kind?
But Lord, the jellyfish can't even know or care that it is going to live forever. We humans do!
You humans don't value what you can't lose.
Now that is just not true! I value sunsets, and the sound of waves crashing upon the beach, and the trillium blooming in the forest....
That's because you are mortal. Remember, even the poet said, " And since to look at things in bloom,  fifty springs are little room, about the woodland I will go to see the cherry hung in snow."


I paused in my musings. He could be right there. How many times have I tried to cajole Asherel to go out on a walk with me on a beautiful day and she refuses,  answering, "There will be more beautiful days..."
What if there really would not be? Would we never appreciate the beauty we have if it were never to end?

Besides, mortal one, lest you forget, I have given you immortality. But I have given it in a way that only a creature with a brain could capture it. It has to be a choice. The jellyfish has no capacity for choice. You do.

Romans 6: 3-8, 22-23
³ Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? ⁴ We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.
 ⁵ For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. ⁶ For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin— ⁷ because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.
 ⁸ Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. ⁹ For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. ¹⁰ The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God.
²² But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. ²³ For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Subtle Cues

"Don't tell the horse walk...just think walk," said Jill.
The student looked dubious, but sat, heels against the horse quiet and still, and thought "walk."  Lady walked forward.
"That's creepy!" she said, "How does she do that!?" She repeated the thought commands a few times and Lady always moved forward at the approporiate time.
"Subtle body language is cuing her," said Jill, "She can tell when you shift your weight slightly, lean forward, or turn your hips. The horses here can read the body cues, but they are lesson horses. They know most of the people on them are students who don't know what their bodies are cuing the horse to do so most of the time they ignore those cues with students."
Subtlety in cues. This is something I could use some work on. I am definitely a more "smack you over the head with a message" sort of person. There is a lot to be said for subtlety.

I think God is a subtle God. He doesn't have to be. He can part the Red Sea, make a bush burn without being consumed, turn water into wine, walk on water, raise the dead....but most of the time, He is less obvious. Why? I am always wondering why. If the goal is to draw the world to Him, why not smack us all over the head with His presence?

There is a story in the book of Luke in the Bible of a man condemned to Hell who begs for just a drop of water from Abraham, who he sees in Heaven. If he can't be given that, he begs that God would warn his loved ones so that they don't end up in the same place as he.
Abraham tells the tormented soul that they have been warned- they have the warnings of the Bible prophets.
The tormented man cries out that they won't listen to that, but they would listen if someone from the dead goes to warn them. Abraham tells the man, if they don't heed the warnings of the prophets, they will not listen even if someone rises from the dead.

Subtle cues matter. And they are always there but maybe we have learned to ignore them. And worse still, we miss the big smack you over the head cues as well with hearts hardened in disbelief.

"I feel so bad for her!" cried the rider.
"It's ok," said Jill, "When you learn how to let your body relax and just do what you subconciously know to do, she will respond and you won't need to force her at all."

Luke 16:
¹⁹ “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. ²⁰ At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores ²¹ and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
   ²² “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. ²³ In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. ²⁴ So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
   ²⁵ “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. ²⁶ And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
   ²⁷ “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, ²⁸ for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
   ²⁹ “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
   ³⁰ “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
   ³¹ “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Show Pieces

We debunked the bunk bed and put the single bed in the Master bedroom against the wall. We didn't want to get rid of it for a variety of reasons- one of which is we didn't want Asherel to have to sleep on the floor when both boys come home to visit,as they will at Christmas.
Arvo threatened to get all gooey and sentimental on me as he disassembled the bunk bed support he had built years ago.
"Many small feet went up and down this ladder," he said, misty eyed.

I don't need anyone in my immediate world starting to reminisce about the good old days when the children were little. My carefully crafted sheen of self control will be ripped away and I will become a bubbling mass of unconstrained grief. I loved those little kids underfoot. So I told him to go get all weepy elsewhere, while throwing the bunk scraps outside. Harsh yes, but life is cruel. (PS- Remember, exaggeration is a key literary device so don't start sending me emails about how insensitive I am.)

I am not much of a home decorator, but even my unskilled eye could see that the twin bed against the wall of the master bedroom left much to be desired in terms of beauty and design.
"What would you think of me making that pretty...like a day bed with pillows and a nice cover?" I asked Arvo, who had recovered by now, with the bunk ladder out of sight in the garbage pile.
"That's fine," he said.
"I'll do it as cheaply as possible," I said.
And off I went to outlet linen stores. I prowled the aisle of one for many minutes before a saleswoman decided I was either homeless, and just warming myself in the store, or needed assistance.
"May I help you?"
"Yes! I hope you can anyway. I have an ugly bed in a master bedroom- an extra twin bed that we need to keep there. So I want to beautify it."
"You mean like a day bed look?"
I almost kissed her.
"Yes! Is that weird?"
"Oh no, that is quite common."
"Really!?" I don't think I have ever stumbled on appropriate, common decorating schemes before.
"What color scheme?"
"Greens...and most importantly, cheap."
"Cheap is not a color, ma'am."
Neither is bankruptcy."
"OK, I understand. Well, the cheapest option would be two king pillows with shams and a couple of decorative throw pillows."
We scoured the store together. They had only one king pillow and it was not as cheap as I had hoped.
"Pssst," she whispered, "Go next door. They are on sale and they have lots of shams and covers to choose from. Best of all, their favorite color is cheap."
I tiptoed away after giving her a big wink and high five.

When I set all the pillows and decorative cover over the bed, it looked stunning. It is currently my favorite part of my house. As soon as I smoothed the cover and settled the pillows at just the right angle, the dogs leaped up on the bed and stretched out.
"Hey!" I said, "This is not for sleeping on! This is art!"
Arvo shook his head, "Do you want to just put a plastic bag over it?"
"No, but I don't want to have to clean dog hairs off it!"
He left, looking a little disgusted, and Honeybun looked anxiously at me.


Even I have to laugh at myself sometimes. Decorating a bed that I don't want anyone to sleep on. There are homes with such exquisite furniture and decor and pristine carpets that I am nervous entering them. I am just not comfortable in those types of dwellings. They are beautiful, and I love beauty. But those homes have lost sight, in my opinion, of the primary purpose of a home. A home should be a welcoming, unpretentious place where you can be who you are, surrounded by those who accept you anyway.

It is not supposed to be a showpiece, I reminded myself. It is first and foremost a bed. And strange as this is to non-animal people, the dogs are family, thus have rights to the bed too. I have seen homes with large ornate Bibles on the coffee table. Those Bibles, embossed with gold, are too large and too precious for dirty hands to open. Yet the miraculous power of God's word cannot be unleashed if it is unread. And dirty hands are the ones that need it the most. And we all have dirty hands.

"OK, you can stay," I told Honeybun, "But no shedding on it!"

Isaiah 6: 3-7
“Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;
   the whole earth is full of his glory.”
 ⁴ At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.
 ⁵ “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.”
 ⁶ Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. ⁷ With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

Luke 5: 12
...When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.”

When Disappointments fall like snow

Snowboards- check.
Helmets- check.
Waterproof pants- check
Fancy snowboard jacket- check
Boots- check
Waterproof warm mittens- check
Snow...
We forgot the snow!!!!!

The latest ski report doesn't bode well for our ski trip tomorrow. There are some resorts that have snow, but not the one we are going to. We have to go where the homeschool group goes and that mountain is currently in snow deficit. So we sit amidst our pile of snowboard/ski equipment with woebegone faces.

Disappointment can rip joy out of life. There is unfortunately, almost always a constant stream of disappointing events in life. It is very easy to wade into them and lose sight of all the blessings lined up on the shore. I wonder why we rarely have to remind ourselves to start counting the disappointments. I remember a song from my childhood that I loved. It went something like this:
When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep.
And soon I fall asleep
Counting my blessings.

God recommends the same strategy.

Deuteronomy 12:7
There, in the presence of the LORD your God, you and your families shall eat and shall rejoice in everything you have put your hand to, because the LORD your God has blessed you.

Lyrics to Count Your Blessings (Instead Of Sheep)
by Irving Berlin  :

When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

Genesis 49: 25-26
because of the Almighty, who blesses you
with blessings of the skies above,
   blessings of the deep springs below,
   blessings of the breast and womb.
²⁶ Your father’s blessings are greater
   than the blessings of the ancient mountains,
   than the bounty of the age-old hills.

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.

Doing Hard Things

Our queen futon arrived in a box. I hate furniture that comes in a box because it is never magical. It doesn't put itself together, and invariably the instructions that come with it are written in Chinese. Now in this case, they were in English as well, but they may have just as well been only in Chinese. Arvo was working so it was up to me to put the futon together all by myself.

I laid out all the pieces and carefully smoothed out the 6 pages of instructions. Yes, 6 pages. There were at least 50 screws and bolts. That meant 50 places where my ineptitude could result in the giant futon snapping closed like crocodile teeth upon an unsuspecting prey. The prey would likely be a loved one, as the futon was going to be the couch/slash extra bed in Asherel's bedroom. My twenty five year old
6 '4" son would no longer have to climb to the top twin size bunk bed he had slept in since he was 5. If I could somehow manage to erect this behemoth, he would be on a comfy queen futon. Now with a newly married son and wife coming home for Christmas, Anders had to sleep somewhere other than Matt's room when he arrived for a week. Asherel would relinquish her room to Anders and she would have her choice of closets or sunroom to sack out in. Thus the need for a bed that my grown eldest son could comfortably sleep in. Futon, be very scared. I am ready to attack.

I surveyed the piles on the floor. Step one. Attach left spring assembly to left wood arm. Note: be sure left spring attached to left side or may result in limb dismemberment in middle of night. 
Did it really say that? I blinked. No, that was just the mirage created by my mind that was concerned about the 50 or so steps and hundred pieces in a pile around me that would somehow miraculously become a futon.
Within less than 5 steps, I had reached an impasse. The screw holes did not line up with the screws and it was only by sheer force that Arvo was finally able to force them in place. Arvo was not totally pleased to be interrupted from his work, but I could not do this step alone. I just didn't have the strength to pierce metal barehanded like I used to.

On to step 6.
Two hours had transpired now. I ached all over, and tendinitis was creeping into my wrists. The frame was almost complete.

As hour three loomed, there was just one more step.
Step 1024: take two double L strips and gently force them into the two predrilled holes.
There were no illustrations of this step, no clues as to where the two predrilled holes were, and no indication of how to do this step. After a half hour of searching, I decided the holes they meant were in the center between the seat and the back. But the metal L was 5 inches long, and the gap between the holes when the futon was flat would be more like 8 inches. No way.

I called the customer assistance number listed on the instruction sheet, noting that below the customer assistance number was a toll free suicide prevention number.
"Hello, I have a problem assembling the queen futon you sent," I said.
"Sure dudette, what can I do to alter your universe?" said a decidedly youngish voice. He may have used different words but I could tell this was an 18 year old smoking dope in a warehouse somewhere.
"Well, I have put together the futon and it seems to work except for the last step."
"Cool! That is a requestion I can certainly help you with. I'm just chillaxin' here and my whole reason for beason is to help you, dudette."
"Well thanks, that is kind of you. So, back to the last step. Do you know that there is no diagram or illustration to help with it?"
"No! That is grody to the max."
"So maybe you could help me?"
"Absocertainly! First let me get a dig on what we are dealing with.. What is a futon?"
"You know, the couch that you can lie back and it becomes a bed."
"No dippindoodling?! That is totally rad!"
"Well yes, that last piece anyway doesn't seem to fit. It is only 5 inches long and the gap it has to span is 8 inches."
"Yeh, I hear you. When we put that sucker together here in the warehouse it takes three of us."
"Well are you sure it is the right piece?"
"Oh you don't know how many check your totem calls I get on this problemtunity."
"So what do I do? I don't have three strong young men to help me."
"Hmmm. You have to force it.  Let me cogitate on this."
I pictured smoke coming out of his ears.
"Ok, listen, do you have dynamite?"
"No..."
"Well then next best thing is just forget this step. Is anyone heavy sleeping on the futon?"
"Possibly."
"Oh, then that's not cool. Believe me, it will fit. I get someone to squeeze the seatback and seat frame together while I force that sucker in. It is made so that once it is in, it is never coming out."
"Thank you for your help. I will go see if I have any dynamite."
"Yeh, that is really the best idea.  Great chattin it up with you."
"Thanks...uh....have a nice day."



I called Arvo over and showed him the problem. Later, I went into the room to see he had wrapped a ratchet strap around the seat and back and was racheting the metal together. Then he rammed the small piece in the holes and unleashed the ratchet.
"Might want to stand back, " he said.
The piece remained in place, the futon opened and closed successfully, and I decided to hang up on the suicide prevention call.








Life is not easy.  God doesn't seem interested in easy. He seems to be interested in how we respond to hard.
If life was easy, we might not recognize the need for anyone or anything other than ourselves. I think there is a lot to be said for being unable to do things on our own.

Moses, guided by God, sent his army into battle and told them that when he raised his arms, the battle would turn in favor of the Israelites. When he became tired and his arms dropped, the battle turned against them. So friends came and supported his arms. We cannot save ourselves. The path is laid out by God and He sends others to keep us on it. When our arms are too weary from assembling the day to day struggles of life, God sends friends to support us. We are never asked to go it alone.
So totally tubular, dude.

Exodus 17: 9-13
⁹ Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.”
 ¹⁰ So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. ¹¹ As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. ¹² When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. ¹³ So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.

Here comes the sun

The start of homeschool highschool has been treacherous. At times,it seemed likely that critical factors in any school would be lost, things like sanity. Our schedule is overfull, and there has not been nearly enough time to do anything at the depth that I think we should go. Meanwhile, Asherel has a plethora of extracurricular activities. (PS- an editorial in our paper which was about how to write winning college essays suggested the student never use the word plethora. No one can use plethora without evoking eye rolling in the reader. It reminded me that I had not used plethora in a while, and it is a word I have always liked.)

But my point is, we are too busy and yet, Asherel does not want to give up any of her extras- horseback, dog agility, guitar, art, snowboarding, mindless computer gaming....

However, I knew she had her once a year guitar recital this weekend and I had not heard her practice the song. Not once. I find it very very hard to let my children fail, so resort to the time honored parenting technique of nagging. My family requested that instead of nagging, I hang a whiteboard on the wall, and write the things that I might feel impelled otherwise to nag about. I did so. Asherel erased them.
"I know that already," she said.
So, we went to guitar lesson, with the recital 2 days away, and Lenny said, "Are you ready for the recital?"
I snickered.
"Yes," said Asherel.
"What will you be playing?" he asked.
What indeedy, I thought.
"Here Comes the Sun," she answered.
"Really!" said Lenny, "I had you down on the program for 8 Days a Week since that is all we have practiced...but I can change that. You can do Here Comes the Sun."
"I just can't decide whether to use a pick or not," she said, as though that were a more serious problem than not having practiced, not even once, as far as I knew.
"George used a pick," said Lenny gently.
Asherel had been very sad three days ago as it was the tenth anniversary of George's death from cancer. George had written Here Comes the Sun, one of the few songs he composed for the Beatles. This sealed the deal for her regarding the pick.
"Do you want me to play it with you at the recital?" he asked.
She said, "That might be good."
Yes, I thought, that surely might be good, as Asherel has not practiced and we may as well let the audience hear something other than her mother wailing.
Asherel pulled out her capo and put it on the guitar neck.
"Oh, you are playing it in the key the Beatles played it!" said Lenny, surprised.
Of course!!! This is the girl who wants to pursue a graduate degree in Beatles Studies. She just nodded.
"I'll do the lower register then," said Lenny.
They began to play. As soon as Asherel began picking the melody that I love so much it is my phone ringtone, I knew that she had misled me. She had been practicing...it sounded like she had been practicing a lot. Lenny messed up half way through but promised he would practice and be ready for the recital.
Meanwhile, I learned a little lesson about trust and the miracle of my remarkable daughter.

I wonder if I ever surprise God. Do I ever give Him more than He expects? Does He ever suddenly want to weep because He has misjudged me and I am better than He thought I could be? I doubt it. But as a parent, I know it would give Him infinite joy to see that in me just once.

Colossians 1:9-11

 ⁹ For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives,¹⁰ so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, ¹¹ being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience,

Don't forget to dance

No matter what time I wake up, there is a furry face with dark hungry eyes two inches from my yawning face. As soon as I show any sign of conscious life, she begins to wag her tail and perk her ears, then gallop in the direction of the food bowl. I always trudge off to the bathroom instead, clothes in hand, and when I emerge, she is still there. Still wagging, still bright eyed, still expectant.

This is how I should greet each day! I should be lunging forward into the fray with joy, with anticipation, with delight for each moment of existence I have been granted. My glee at the dawn of new opportunities, new possibilities should make me prance and twirl as I gallop delightedly to my breakfast.

I am sorry to say I don't. I don't seem to prance as often as I did when I was young. For one thing, I think there is the very real chance that prancing would lead to ripped muscles or snapped Achilles tendons in my aging body. For another, as soon as I commenced prancing, I would think of all the anti-prancing aspects of my life.

I recently heard the words of the song by the group Kinks again, "Don't forget to dance." It reminded me of how joy should define all existence. After all, God is waiting there for me just as eagerly as Honeybun each morning, but rather than demanding a feast, He is offering one.

 Don't Forget to Dance.

You look out of your window,
Into the night.
Could be rain, could be snow,
But it can't feel as cold as you're feeling inside.

And all of you friends are either married, vanished,
Or just left alone.
But that's no reason to just stop living.
That's no excuse to just give in to a sad and lonely heart.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

'Cause darling, darling,
I bet you danced a good one in your time.
And if this were a party
I'd really make sure the next one would be mine.
Yes, you with the broken heart.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to smile.
Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Forget it for a while.

You walk down the street
And all the young punks whistle at you.
A nice bit of old,
Just goes to show what you can achieve
with the right attitude.
As you pass them by
They whisper their remarks one to another,
And you give them the eye
Even that you know that you could be their mother.
You do the thing you love the most.
What separates you from the rest,
And what you love to do the most?
And when they ask me how you dance,
I say that you dance real close.

Don't forget to dance, no, no, no,
Don't forget to dance. 

 

Jeremiah 31:

¹² They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;
   they will rejoice in the bounty of the LORD—
the grain, the new wine and the olive oil,
   the young of the flocks and herds.
They will be like a well-watered garden,
   and they will sorrow no more.
¹³ Then young women will dance and be glad,
   young men and old as well.
I will turn their mourning into gladness;
   I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow.