Mother's Kisses

 

 

“Mom, I need a Band Aid!”  Elise said.

“What happened?”  Elaine asked her.

“I was running, and I scraped my foot and there’s blood in it!”  Elise said, her lip quivering.

“There’s actually blood inside everyone,” I said, pouring a little bit of my scientific knowledge out for the unwilling masses to hear.  “We only see it when we get scrapes and cuts.”

Elise didn’t seem consoled by my wisdom.  Knowledge may be power, but it lacks the ability to comfort the scraped shin or wounded knee.

“Do you want me to kiss it to make it better?”  Elaine asked. 

“No!”  Elise said.  “Kisses DO NOT make things better!  Only Band Aids make things better!”

With this in mind, we sent out a search party to look for a Band Aid in the jumble of odds and ends in the kitchen cabinet where we keep such things.  After its application to the abrasion, the patient seemed consoled and able to return to her regular activities.

I suppose there comes a time for each of us to grow up.  We put away childish things, like mother’s kisses, and move on to truly efficacious things like Band Aids and Mecurochrome and antibiotics.

It is this way in other areas of life as well.  Many reach an age where they have no use for faith.  Religion may be the opiate of the masses, but they will not willingly partake in any such thing and so they leave it behind to focus themselves on the grind of everyday life.

Believing in the unseen is simply too hard.

"It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible." (Hebrews 11:27)

Maybe it seems childish to keep faith.  It was just this child-like belief that kept Moses going as he led the Israelites out of Egypt and through the trials of the desert.

We persevere, not because we have grown up, but because we believe in something -- in Someone -- bigger than ourselves.  

Even grownups need someone to care for them in the bumps and scrapes of everyday life.  I am glad that I have a Heavenly Father who I can turn to, for His healing touch works better than any Band Aid ever could.

Picking Up Litter

 

“Dad, can you get me a trash bag?”  Elise asked me.

“Sure,” I replied.  “What do you want to do with it?”

“I’m going to go along the road to pick up trash!”  She announced proudly.  “You can come along and hold the bag for me.”

With this glorious invitation, I accompanied my five-year-old daughter out to Wyatt Miles Road to pick up a variety of litter.  The treasures we discovered included beer cans, plastic bottles, and plastic bags.

“Isn’t this exciting?”  Elise asked me.  “I just LOVE picking up trash.  It will make everything so clean along the road.  But who would throw litter out like this?”

“Do you think maybe there are Indians in our woods?  Maybe they are the ones who throw these things out,” I said.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.  “No, Dad,” she said.  “Indians would not do something like that.”  The question wasn’t whether there were Indians in our woods, but rather whether they would choose to litter and of course, she was right.  Native Americans would never dump trash along the roadside.

“Maybe it’s animals,” I said.  “I hear that racoons are pretty bad at spreading trash around.”

Elise nodded her head sagely.  “Yes, racoons are a mess!”  She spied a McDonald’s cup on the edge of the woods.  “I’m going to get that cup,” she said.  As she returned to put it in the bag, she said, “This is a cup for caffeine coffee.  I couldn’t drink it because I don’t drink caffeine!”

I am not sure why people litter.  Maybe it is as simple as them believing that once an item is out of their hand, it becomes somebody else’s problem.  Since it is only one item, it isn’t that big a deal, is it?

“Whose woods are these? I think I know.

His house is in the village though

He will not see me stopping here

To drop my beer can in the snow.”

I am thankful for a daughter who wants to see the world clean and fresh and new and is not discouraged by the fact that the trash we picked up today will soon reaccumulate. 

The Apostle Paul wrote, “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”  (Galatians 6:9)

It is hard to carry on without growing weary, particularly as the people around us continue to heap problems for us to deal with.  It is still best if we focus on the little good that we can, each day attempting to make our world – and the worlds of those around us – a better place to live in.

It doesn’t really matter if it is racoons or elves (but it’s not elves) who are leaving a mess for others to find, the rest of us can still leave the world a little cleaner than we found it. 

One McDonald’s Styrofoam cup at a time.

The Oregon Trail

 

  

“I picked up a new game today at a thrift store,” Elaine said.

“Really?  What’s it called?”  I asked her.  I wasn’t terribly interested at the moment.

“The Oregon Trail,” she said.  “I think it is a version of the game that used to be available on computers back in the day.”

I remembered the Oregon Trail from my younger days, playing on an Apple IIc computer.  They weren’t good memories.  I had never won the game – never even gotten close as far as I could tell.

One evening we broke out the cards, dutifully handed out resources, and stacked up the calamity cards and began to play.  Disaster struck fairly quickly.  Vincent placed a card down that instructed him to draw a calamity card.

With bated breath we watched him draw the card.  “You have been bitten by a snake,” the card said.  “You Died!”

Bit by bit we meandered our way along, one member of our party died of cold (we didn't have a clothing resource card) and another of dysentery.  Finally, the last succumbed to bad water. 

“Well, that was depressing,” I said.  “Of course, it seems like a pretty faithful replication of how playing the original computer game was.”

I wondered if it was this dangerous to travel the actual Oregon Trail.  What percent of folks who embarked in their covered wagons actually made it through?

I asked Google and it told me that 90 percent of those early travelers made it through.  Still, if you had a one in ten chance of dying while doing something -- say traveling to Oregon, you might think twice before embarking on the adventure.

The death rate on the game seemed much higher.  My guess is that 90 percent of the people who play the Oregon Trail game lose all of their resource cards while crossing rivers and then perish in the wilderness, far from family and friends, their only memorial a scribbled name on a makeshift tombstone.

What many people don't realize is that even in the year of our Lord, 2025, death rate is exactly the same as what it was in 1840s and 50s when the Oregon Trail was in use.  Humans live longer -- the average age of death in the United States in 1860 was around 40 (although adults who survived childhood would typically make it to their early 50s), while today it is in the upper 70s, but one hundred percent of people still die.

I tell my patients that my goal is not to get them to live forever, but simply to help them to be healthy in the time they have here.

10 

Seventy years are given to us!

    Some even live to eighty.

But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble;

    soon they disappear, and we fly away.

Who can comprehend the power of your anger?

    Your wrath is as awesome as the fear you deserve.

Teach us to realize the brevity of life,

    so that we may grow in wisdom.

This is from Psalm 90, a Psalm attributed to Moses.  The poem makes the point that those who understand the shortness of life and the certainty of death will choose their activities with wisdom.

The Oregon Trail game is far from a rollicking good time, but if it encourages those who play it to number their days and realize the importance of using time wisely, then maybe it is worth playing.  While in these modern days the rate of death from snake bite, bad water, and dysentery have dropped considerably, still, none of us will live forever.  It is best to use our short, allotted time wisely.

Whether we are given a few years or a hundred years, the day is coming when we will meet our Creator.  Hopefully we will have filled those days with things of value and pursued a goal worth attaining, unlike those who finish the Oregon Trail game, who find that successfully navigating the trail only leaves them with a knowledge that they have survived a game that weeds out most of the weakest in the party. 

Spring Allergies...

 

 

“Isn’t beautiful outside?”  I said.  “I love springtime – seeing all the flowers blooming now is wonderful.”

The man sitting across from me looked offended.  “For allergy sufferers it’s pretty terrible,” he told me.  “I feel like every sinus in my head is about ready to explode.  It must be nice to be able to enjoy spring, but some of us just can’t.”

I probably looked startled.  “I guess I just like seeing everything in bloom.  I have a peach tree right now that is covered in blossoms,” I said, as way of explanation.

“It’s too early,” my patient told me flatly.  “You won’t get no peaches with it warming up this early.  Mr. Frost will get every one of your peaches!”

I took a deep breath.  Clearly this was not a man with whom to discuss the weather.  We moved on to other topics, but across the board he was negative.  If something bad hadn’t happened yet, he was bound and determined that it would happen and there was no sense getting his hopes up about a world that was headed for disaster.

There are some people who realized long ago that there is no silver lining that doesn’t have a dark cloud attached to it.  When they see smoke, they do not ask themselves whether it is produced by a fire, but rather how many people died in the conflagration.

I have spoke with many of these individuals and some, at least, claim that they are “happier” because they never suffer disappointment.  If you expect the worst, then every surprise is a happy one.

When I talk with them, I don’t sense much happiness.

There is much discussion of joy in Scripture.  The Bible doesn’t tell us that was have to look at life through rose colored glasses or only focus on the silver linings if we are following Jesus, but it might help. 

“Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying.” (Romans 12:12)

The Apostle Paul wasn’t saying that we wouldn’t have troubles , but rather that we needed to rejoice because even in that trouble we have confident hope.

It is hard to live Eeyore’s existence, pessimistically expecting floods, wars, and pestilence and all the while feeling vaguely irritated by the clueless, happy imbeciles who surround us.  Maybe they are closer to the truth.

For, joy comes, even for allergy sufferers from seeing the beauty around us, even when our nasal passages are filled to overflowing.

Leftover Cookies

 

“I took snack to orchestra tonight,” Elaine told me.  “I imagine there will be some chips and cookies left over for school lunches.”

“You never know,” I said.  “The appetites of young viola and cello players is phenomenal, or so I’ve heard.”

Not too long after this brief conversation, our two sons entered the house.  “I brought home the box of chips,” Elliot said.  “About the only ones left were Cheetos.”

Elaine looked at the box in his hands.  “Where are the cookies?”  She asked him.  “Weren’t there any left?”

“The cookies?”  Elliot said.  “Yes, there were plenty left.  I gave them away to one of the girls.  She said she had three sisters, and they love cookies.”

“You have three sisters too,” I said.  It didn’t seem a particular reason to give away all of the cookies.  “I think Mom was planning to have them in lunches.”

Elliot looked askance.  “Well,” he said.  “They were mostly oatmeal cookies left and I don’t like oatmeal cookies.  Anyway, I would have thought you would be glad that I was generous.”

“I like oatmeal cookies,” Anna put in.  “I would have been glad to eat them.”

At this point, the conversation meandered in other directions, but I was struck by the concept of sacrifice and generosity.  It isn't hard to sacrifice things that you didn’t pay for, it is easy to be generous with cookies that you don’t like.

The prophet Malachi brought a warning to the people that their sacrifices to God were contemptible.  “But you dishonor my name with your actions. By bringing contemptible food, you are saying it’s all right to defile the Lord’s table.  You say, ‘It’s too hard to serve the Lord,’ and you turn up your noses at my commands,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. “Think of it! Animals that are stolen and crippled and sick are being presented as offerings! Should I accept from you such offerings as these?” asks the Lord.” (Malachi 1:13,14)

I am afraid that most of us give from our surplus, we are generous as long as we feel comfortable.  After we have covered all of our expenses and most of our desires, we are willing to drop a few nickels and dimes in the coffers of the Salvation Army.

I did a little research and found that on average, American Christians give about 2 percent of their income to charity.  More than that, wealthier Americans are less likely than poorer ones to give a high percentage of their income to charity.  It seems that the more money you have, the less you have to spare to give to those in need.

Of course, if only the billionaires would give their share, the rest of wouldn't have to give much at all.  Maybe that's true, but perhaps, we receive a great benefit when we are willing to give sacrificially.  

I know that many aid organizations around the world are struggling to make ends meet.  Regardless of the reasons for this, the people of God could do a better job of stepping into the gap.

I have heard the expression that we should give till it hurts.  I would say rather that we should give until it stops hurting.  We are called to share with those who are in need.  We would do well to give more than a few leftover oatmeal raisin cookies.

When the House Goes Dark

 

 

“Good news,” my wife told me over the phone.  “Our power is back on.”

It was good news.  We had had a bit of snow followed by a lot of freezing rain and the end result was down power lines and lots of trees pulled down.  Our power had gone off at 5 that morning and it apparently had blinked back to life sometime in the late afternoon.

Part of the problem with living in a rural area is that when you lose power, not only do you lose the ability to cook and run your heat, but your well pump doesn’t work either.  Suddenly, flushing the toilet and taking showers jumps to the top of activities you want to do – only you can’t.

I came home to find electric lights burning brightly.  When I turned a faucet on a little later, water flowed out in an unbroken stream for me to wash my hands and continued until I turned it back off.

Oh, bliss...

All was well until about 8:30 that evening.

Our family was sitting together, and I was reading a short devotional when, all of a sudden, the power blinked, came back on, blinked again, and then with the finality of a judge’s gavel, shut off completely, leaving us in the dark.

“OH NO!!”  Our youngest, Elise said.  “Turn on the lights!”

“We can’t,” Elaine said.  “There must be power lines down between here and the power station.”

I went to grab a flashlight.  When I returned, my oldest son said, “You know what’s nice Dad?”

“What’s that, Vincent?”  I couldn’t see any silver lining at the moment – mostly because I was having a hard time seeing.

“There’s power in the blood!”  He said.  The Dad jokes start young these days.

It was awfully dark that night.  There were no night lights and no forty minute showers.  Just blankets and bed and boredom.

(Interestingly, we were still able to power on all of the old-fashioned books in the house...)

The power stayed off until the following afternoon.  It was a blessing that it came on when it did – I knew several families in the area who didn’t get power back for nearly a week after the ice storm.

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  (I Thessalonians 5:18)

I’m not sure what to be thankful for in a situation where you lose power for roughly 36 hours.  The fact that it came back on for a four hour stretch in the middle?  The fact that we didn’t lose it for longer?

What I know for certain is that I value things more after I lose them.  So much of life centers around things that we take for granted.  These are things like health and functioning vehicles and even electricity.  When those things go away, even for a short period of time, suddenly the difficulty level of getting through our days ramps up considerably.

I would love to learn to be thankful for things that I have, long before the house goes dark.

Before I Was Born

 

A wailing sound came from the middle seat of our minivan.  We were on our way to church, and someone was NOT in the Spirit.  Not at all.

That person was the youngest member of our family, Elise.

“Who’s bothering Elise?”  I asked in a somewhat grumpy voice.  Other people sing hymns all the way to church, but in the Waldron family, we simply survive, like people in a lifeboat dropped from the deck of the Titanic.  Sometimes we even listen to "Nearer My God to Thee" to lift our spirits.

“No one is bothering her,” Victoria put in.  “She just started crying.”

“Why are you upset, Elise?”  Elaine asked.

“I’m not upset,” Elise said, stopping crying for a moment.  “I’m just sad that you all went to Israel without me!”

“Oh,” I said, not sure what to say.  The trip in question happened in the summer of 2017 and Elise wasn’t born till September of 2019.  “We didn’t leave you behind,” I said.  “You just weren’t born yet.”

This inspired more crying.  “Why didn’t you wait?”  Elise asked.  This was the sort of question that had no answer, certainly not an answer that would satisfy a five-year old who feels anguish in response to all of the things her family did before she was born.

Of course, for most of us, there is a lot more history that precedes the date of our birth than has come since then.  I suppose it doesn’t really matter.  There are far more things that we haven’t done than that we have done and far more places we haven’t visited than those we have.

…And I’ve never been to Boston in the fall!

“I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.  I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”  (Philippians 4:12,13)

Satisfaction grows out of contentment, not out of pursuing all of the things this world claims will satisfy.  Knowing Elise, even if she had visited Israel, she would have something else she was dissatisfied with – a Lego set she didn’t have or some other place where she wanted to vacation.

That’s normal for a five-year-old, but I do hope she grows – not in her desires, but in her ability to be content.  This is something that even people ten times her age can learn better.  The most joyful people also have the most contentment – not because they have the most, but simply because they have learned to be satisfied, even in periods of want.

Saving for a Snowstorm

 

“There’s ten inches of snow on the ground in New Orleans!”  My patient was clearly impressed by the amount of white goodness that had fallen in Southern Louisiana.

“I wish we got that much snow here,” I said.  “We got three inches a week ago and it seemed like it melted a couple of days later.”

“They have NO idea what to do with that much snow,” Robert continued.  “I heard they don’t have any snowplows and so they are sending in snowplows from places like Indiana to help out!”

“I guess it helps to be ready for something like that,” I said.  “Of course, it’s hard to think about buying snowplows when the last time they got this much snow in New Orleans was a hundred years ago.”

“You’ve just got to be ready for anything!”  My patient told me seriously.

“My experience tells me that the important thing when getting ready for a snowstorm is to buy a bunch of bread and milk,” I said.  “That’s more important than having a snowplow.”

Our conversation wandered off in other directions – more specifically having to do with his health, but I continued to think about it later.  There are many things in life that we need to be ready for.  Some of them are very uncommon (like snowstorms in New Orleans) and some are impossible to really be ready for.

When COVID moved across the globe in 2020, we discovered how poor preparations were for a pandemic.  I wonder how much better nations are prepared now.

In the book of Genesis, the story is told of Pharaoh.  Apparently, the king awakened one night having had a terrible dream in which seven skinny cows ate seven fat cows.  Uncertain of the meaning, he combed the kingdom for a dream interpreter until someone mentioned a Hebrew prisoner who seemed to have a gift in this direction.

So it was that Joseph came before the king and told the king that the next seven years would have amazing harvest with plenty.  Following that would come seven years of famine and want.

At this point, Joseph interjected a little wisdom of his own.  “Therefore, Pharaoh should find an intelligent and wise man and put him in charge of the entire land of Egypt.  Then Pharaoh should appoint supervisors over the land and let them collect one-fifth of all the crops during the seven good years. Have them gather all the food produced in the good years that are just ahead and bring it to Pharaoh’s storehouses. Store it away, and guard it so there will be food in the cities.  That way there will be enough to eat when the seven years of famine come to the land of Egypt. Otherwise this famine will destroy the land.” (Genesis 41:33-36)

This advice amazes me when I read it because it is the opposite way that most governments function.  Few legislative bodies save for a rainy day.  Most spend the maximum amount that tax receipts allow and when that isn’t enough, they borrow from the future to fund present spending.

Many of us live similarly.  We live to the edge of our capabilities, but in terms of finances, but also time management and many other things.  Often it seems as though we are borrowing from Molly to afford the weapon which we use to rob Peter and finally pay Paul.

I wonder if we can hear the wisdom that Joseph had in our own lives.  There are some things we cannot really prepare for, but living our lives with a little margin can make a huge difference, even when it comes to dealing with a sudden southern snowstorm.

Blinded by the Light

 

 

“I live on the wrong side of the county,” I told the older man.

“How’s that?”  He asked.  “Don’t you like your neighbors?”

“Oh, our neighbors are fine,” I said.  “We might live in Hell Bend, but I think most of the moonshiners have taken up other employment.  It’s actually a quiet part of the county.”

“Then what’s the problem,” he asked me, curiously.

“Just that we live west of Brookneal,” I said, thinking that that explained everything.

“I still don’t understand,” he said.

“I work in Brookneal,” I said.

“Sure,” he agreed.  I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know.

“Well, somehow Congress passed a new regulation and the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,” I said.  “The problem arises in that I am driving towards the sun in the morning when it goes up and then in the evening, when I go home, it seems to be setting right in the middle of my windshield.  Truly, I am blinded by the light…!”

The other man didn’t seem to have much to say in response to this.  Of course, barring another act of Congress deciding that the sun should rise in the west and set in the east, it seems likely that sunglasses lie in my foreseeable future.

Of course, I’m not actually driving towards the sun.  It is a long way away from Virginia – 93 million miles they say – and drive as fast as I could, I don’t think I could ever reach it.

The issue of course is driving with the sun in my eyes.  It can almost blind you as you come around a corner and discover its brilliant presence dazzling your retinas.

It strikes me that Christians should always drive towards the Son.  “Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 12:1)

It is challenging.  There are lots of distractions that we’d rather look at and beyond all that, Jesus’ example makes us realize how poor a job we truly do at following Him.  It’s easier to focus on other humans or even our smart phones.

We are still called to pursue Him and to focus our gaze on Him.  Even if doing so blinds us to many of the other things around, we will see far better than on anything else.  It is when the light is strongest that darkness is truly defeated.

Smelling Snow

 

Lo, one day, it so transpired that my family went to church, for, it was the first day of the week and on this day, we harnessed up Old Nellie, Hitched up the Buggy and wended our way to 5946 Brookneal Highway.  There we raised our voices in song and listened to a sermon and eventually departed for our Abode.

Upon arriving out our home, my eldest daughter sniffed the air and announced, “It smells like snow to me!”

This statement was greeted with much acclaim, for verily, we have had little Snow over the last two years and my children were Right Ready to see some of the crystalline water.

Elise also tested the aroma borne upon the chilly air and asked, “What does snow smell like?”

This was a difficult question to answer and after a feeble attempt, Anna saith that it was a difficult concept and well above the ability of a five-year old to understand.  And that, as the sages say, was that.

“The App that Predicteth weather on my phone does say we will get somewhere between 10 and 12 inches of snow,” I proclaimed, attempting to pour a layer of scientific knowledge over the situation.  This engendered even more excitement on the part of my children, as this seemed far more certain than my eldest daughter’s nose.

“I don’t know about that,” quoth my beautiful wife.  “The National Weather Service says one to two inches of a mixture of snow and sleet.  They are usually right.”

Upon entering our house, we proceeded to check upon the websites of AccuWeather, NOAA, and MSN Weather.  AccuWeather and NOAA gave the same dismal forecast of a bit of snow, followed close on by freezing rain.  On the other hand, MSN weather predicted heavy snow, 10 to 12 inches of shovel-ready white powder ready by morning!

I Knit my Brows so hard they almost turned into a pair of socks, wondering which of these, Very Different forecasts to believe.  I finally decided to do a little research.  It turned out that MSN Weather was using Artificial Intelligence combined with data to predict worldwide weather.  It had even won Awards for being accurate.  On the other hand, the National Weather Service simply used meteorologists, satellites, and radar to make their predictions.  Very Old School indeed.

The choice was Clear.  MSN Weather was Better.  Beyond that, I wanted at least 8 or 9 inches of snow and so I chose to believe that Bill Gates’ Brain Child was correct.

All through the afternoon I monitored the situation.  It began Promising Enough with large white flakes falling from the sky.  Soon the ground was covered with a thin layer of snow, but then, Alas, the falling snow changed to a cold rain that froze on the ground and the trees.

Checking MSN Weather, it continued to confidently say that at this given moment, Heavy Snow was falling on Gladys.  The only problem was that I had only to poke my head out the door to see that the site was Plum Wrong. 

So, it went.  The following morning, MSN Weather stated that the Gladys area had received a sum total of 8.79 inches of snow in the preceding twenty-four hours when we had gotten perhaps a half inch of snow and another half inch of freezing rain.

So much for Artificial Intelligence.

It is challenging these days to discern who to believe when the sources of knowledge share such disparate opinions.  Solomon said, “In the multitude of counselors there is safety.” (Proverbs 11:14) I wonder how he would have dealt with the internet and the Multitude of Experts who reside there.

I imagine that, as with the kings of old, most of us simply seek out counselors who confirm our opinions. 

Even pastors are not exempt, for, it is often easier to explain away the hard things of the Gospel – the need to give unstintingly to the needy, to love enemies, and live with moral purity – than to attempt to live them.  So it is, that people gravitate to teachers who tell them what they wish to hear – that God loves them and there is no need to change.

Mayhap most of us would do better simply reading the Scripture ourselves and trying to apply it to our lives.  For those who search for the forecast they want may find it, but like as not, they will still end up with a half inch of snow and a half inch of ice when all is said and done.

Thoughts on Missing a Gathering

 

“I’m sorry to tell you, Honey,” Elaine said.  “But Elise was up during the night and she’s running a fever now.”

I looked at her crestfallen.  Elaine had had Victoria at urgent care the previous day and Victoria had tested positive for influenza, but she had seemed better in the evening and I had hoped beyond hope that everyone in our family had gotten flu who was going to get it. 

So much for hope…

The Waldron family was gathering in northern Virginia and we had beaten back and forth the question of whether we were healthy enough to join the others.  Now, the answer was staring us in the face and we weren’t happy.

“I was praying that it would be clear to us whether or not we should go,” Elaine said.  “I guess my prayer was answered.”

“I was just praying that we would be able to go,” I said, hearing the sobs in the background of my daughters who were distressed at the idea of not seeing their cousins.  “I guess my prayer was answered too – just not the way I wanted.”

Many people see God’s hand moving in all of the little intricacies of their lives.  Perhaps the reason why our little tribe couldn’t join the larger clan was because God was trying to prevent us being shot by a sniper on the way to D.C. or hit by a small asteroid near Charlottesville.   Then again, maybe we just got a virus at the wrong time and were suffering the consequences.

It is hard for me to see the hand of God in these things.  It seems as though an omnipotent God could prevent some disaster befalling me without having my family get infected with the creeping crud.

We live in a fallen world.  It is a world in which there is cancer and pneumonia and COVID-19 and Influenza.  It is a world in which best laid plans go amiss, and parents disappoint their children.

God is still good.

David wrote, “I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” (Psalms 27:3) Some people act as though the main thing we hope for is for heaven, which of course, means that this life is full of hopelessness.  If God’s goodness is only reserved for those who have died and gone on to their reward, it would be a dark world indeed.

I suppose it has to do with my melancholic tendencies, but I often see the dark clouds and not the silver linings.  I see only the canceled trip and hear my girls’ sadness and can’t see any positives.

When I feel my heart fainting within me and discouragement rising like the flood waters to drown my spirit, I must have a solid place to stand.  Lewis B. Smedes says that “When God gets involved in our hoping, the odds get better, the stakes get higher, and the pain gets worse.”  He explains, “The pain gets worse because it hurts more to feel let down by God than it does to be fleeced by dumb fortune.”

This feels real to me.  I feel let down by my heavenly Father and wonder at His unwillingness to give me the things I hoped for.  It is like your millionaire dad saying that he is not going to buy you the Lego set you had been pining for the last three months.  “I got you these pencils and underwear instead,” he says and even as your character grows, your spirit shrinks, unwilling to hope and trust.

I have no deep insights, only that I will affirm that when all else fails, I will desperately cling to hope.  I will continue to trust my heavenly Father and His goodness.  When the floods rise and hurricane force winds blow, I feel on the edge of disaster and then, at my side, I hear His still, small voice and know that He is closer than the storm could ever be.

Literally!

 

“So, what did you do today, Anna?”  I asked my eldest daughter.  It is Christmas break, and I imagined that she had slept in till all hours.

“The big thing I did today was to take a walk,” she told me.  “I literally walked a mile or two and then I was working on the puzzle you all gave me for Christmas.  It’s actually a really hard puzzle.  See, it is a puzzle that looks like a copy of an old manuscript of Fur Elise and all of the pieces literally look the same.  Like, they are shaped differently, but they just have bits of notes on them and kind of a yellow-tan look to them and you can’t tell which part of the puzzle they go in.”

“Interesting,” I said.  “So, you literally woke up, walked, and worked on a puzzle today?”

“Yes,” she said.  “Although it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

Listening to my daughter tell a story these days is an interesting experience.  If she was unable to use the words “literally” and “actually,” I have a feeling that whatever tale she is weaving would grind to a halt.

I suppose most of us have pet words that we use regularly.  These are verbal tics that come out as we speak.  We probably are not even aware of them, while the people around us are very familiar with our use of them.

The funny thing is that Anna doesn’t really mean “literally” when she uses the word “literally.”  She is simply using the word as an intensifier – a way of saying that something was really hard, or really great, or really beautiful.

I suppose that the world expects everything we experience to be dialed up to eleven.  This is the way that influencers in our midst talk, and I suppose that if we want people to listen to us, we need to be equally intense in our expressions of pain, pleasure, and anxiety.

Jesus doesn’t seem to have felt this way at all.  In the Sermon on the Mount, He told His followers, “Just say a simple, ‘Yes, I will,’ or ‘No, I won’t.’ Anything beyond this is from the evil one.” (Matthew 5:38) The point was that He wanted His followers to simply state the truth, not needing to embellish it with extra words or swearing that something was true.

I don’t think Anna is wrong for using lots of intensifying words in telling her stories.  I imagine most teenagers do this.  I do think that people will believe us, not because we use the right words, but because we are known to tell the truth and live our lives with honesty and integrity.

Adding more words actually changes nothing and could literally detract from the story as the people reading it are literally turned off by our overuse of a word, the meaning of which it seems like we literally don’t understand.  Or something like that.

Waiting for Christmas

 

“Mom, where’s the calendar?”  Elise said.

“It’s up in your room where you left it,” Elaine said.

“I didn’t cross the today off yet,” Elise said.  She went and got the calendar and crossed off the 19^th.  “It is just one, two, three, four, five days till Christmas!”  She counted out carefully. 

“Mom,” she said.  “What are you getting me Christmas?”

“I can’t tell you,” Elaine said. 

“Yes, you can,” Elise said.  

I suppose technically, Elise was correct.  My beautiful wife was choosing not to tell her five-year old daughter what her Christmas present was, but she definitely could have had she chosen to.  “Did you get me a doll?”  Elise asked slyly.

“You’ll find out in good time,” Elaine said again.  “The other day you said you thought you could make it to Christmas.”

“Is it a doll?”  Elise asked again.  “Is it?  Is it?  Is it?”  Her voice got successively louder till echoed off the walls.  “I think I need a doll!”

“It will be more fun for you if you wait till Christmas to find out what you are having,” Elaine said.  “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Elise didn’t seem convinced and went off to see what she could find in other rooms of the house.  Two of her siblings, Anna and Elliot had locked the door of a bedroom and were busy wrapping presents within.

“Let me in!”  Elise said in a commanding voice, a little like Gandalf in front of the Balrog on the bridge of Khazad dum.

“You can’t come in,” Anna said.  “We’re wrapping presents.”

Elise wasn’t discouraged for long.  She went and got her doll and then stood outside the door.  “Let me in,” she said again.  This time in a funny voice.

“We already told you,” Elliot said.  “You can’t come in – we are wrapping up gifts.”

“But I’m not Elise,” Elise said.  “I’m Ada, Elise’s doll and I really want to come in and help out.”

Somehow Elliot and Anna didn’t fall for the talking doll trick and still didn’t let her in.

I suppose it isn’t too surprising that it is torture for a five-year old to wait the few days for Christmas to arrive.  I don’t suppose patience was my strong point when I was that age either.

When Jesus was born in the little town of Bethlehem, the world had waited impatiently for thousands of years.  The need was for a Savior, a once and future king who would bring peace on earth and good will to men; an anointed one who would bring sight to the blind, set at liberty the captives, and preach the acceptable year of our Lord.

For all of the world’s impatience waiting for Christ’s birth, when they finally opened this divine gift, they were dissatisfied with it.  This Savior looked nothing like the king they expected.  He was poor, traveled everywhere by foot, and never won a single military victory.

I’m guessing that most of them would have been standing in the long lines on December 26^th with the others returning the gifts that didn’t quite meet expectation.  “Can I just get store credit?  I’m looking for a Savior capable of military victories, not one who commands me to love my enemies…”

I don’t know that the 21^st century has changed much.  People have a picture of the Savior they want.  They want freedom to pursue their own pleasures and desires, to live comfortable lives, and attain their Constitutional rights.  They want a Jesus who looks like them and likes the same things they like and votes the way they vote.

And still, Jesus calls us, asking us to lay down these rights and pleasures, giving up everything that we are and everything we have.  After laying all this down, He asks to bend down, take up the cross – a symbol of suffering – and follow only Him. 

Christmas is coming, whether we are ready or not, but I pray that we would understand the gift we have received.  For peace on earth will come, not through swords or armed militias, but through men and women who choose to love as their Savior loved them.