Blooming in the Snow

It was the first day of spring and snow was falling!  Big fluffy flakes floated down to cover the grass and melt glistening on the driveway.

Of course, this is Virginia (not the outskirts of Anchorage) and the bipolar weather flips from 70 degrees to snow so fast you hardly have time to drop your container of SPF-50 sun block to pick up your stocking cap.  This doesn't provide too much of a problem for the human population (since we can just put on a coat), but plant life suffers.

As I looked out of our front window, I could see our Magnolia Tree, which had bloomed a beautiful purple the week before, now shrouded in white.  It was snow bound in spring.

The contrast between this southern tree, covered with flowers, and the snow struck me.  What is it that lets a person continue to bloom even in the midst of suffering?

Focus on the sun, not on the snow.

Even on the most frigid, snowy day, the sun is still there behind the clouds.  In that grayish half light lies something called "Hope."  Hope for the Magnolia Tree that spring really is coming and hope for us humans that the same God who lead us into this trial will lead us out once again into the light of day.  The snow will melt, the birds will sing, and spring will come again.

Use your energy to bless others.

Perhaps flowers are a waste of energy when the temperatures drop into the high twenties, but they stand out and lift the spirits of those who have to slog to work in the cold.  Everyone has an opportunity to bless those around them, even in a time of suffering.  It may be as simple as a kind word, a card, or a smile. 

It is hard to think of others in the middle of a difficult time, but those who do receive a special blessing.

Be who God made you to be.

Magnolia Trees bloom because they are Magnolia Trees.  That's it.  In the same way, God has not called us to be something or someone we aren't.  He only asks us to be the person who He created us to be -- in every situation we find ourselves in.

In the end, that may put a smile on the faces of those around us.  It definitely will bring glory to our Creator.

That's reason enough for a Magnolia Tree to bloom in the snow.

Minor Crime

"Dad, do you know what happened at school this morning?"  My children asked me.

"I think so," I said.  "Mom texted me about it this morning."

"Someone broke into our school last night," Anna told me, breathlessly.  "They took two computers and the money that people pay for personal copies (but they left the pennies) and they took all of the special drinks we had there.  All of our Frappuccinos are gone!"

"School was delayed for two hours while the police came out to investigate!"  Vince added.

"I'm surprised that Bun Bun (the sixth grader's class rabbit), didn't stop the burglar," I said.  "She's not a very good "Watch Rabbit," is she?"

"Oh, Dad," Anna said.  "Bun Bun was away for Easter Break, otherwise I'm sure she would have guarded the school.  We never had a break in when she was actually there."

"The police said that they probably wouldn't catch the robbers," Elliot put in.  "I wish they'd call the Bobbsey Twins.  They would find the men who stole things for sure!"

"Oh, Elliot, the Bobbsey Twins wouldn't catch anyone," Anna said.  "Mandie is exactly the person to call for a situation like this.  She's so much better at catching criminals than the silly Bobbsey Twins!"

I had to smile.  The children's school was broken into last weekend and such things were taken as one would find at a small (not very wealthy) Mennonite School.  Elliot was probably right that the police would never find the culprit, but I don't know if Mandie (of such books as Mandie and the Silent Catacombs) or the Bobbsey Twins (of such books as The Bobbsey Twins and the Mystery at School) would really do a better job.

At the same time, while this crime was pretty minor to the law enforcement officials, it was pretty major to the people involved -- particularly my children.  When they wanted to consult with the detective heroes of their books, they were really saying that they wanted someone to come who would care about the case and actually solve it.

When you are dealing with a problem, you want someone to help you who cares as much about it as you do.

God has asked us to bring our worries and anxieties to Him.  He does this, not because He is some sort of divine therapist who wants us to get these things off our chest, but because He simply wants to know what we are struggling with and help us with those things.  Peter, in his first epistle, told the Christians to "cast all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you."

God hears our prayers and will help us in the midst of adversity.  He is more than enough for every situation, even for the "Baffling Break In at Bethel School.

Sneezures!

"Oh my," I said.  "I just about had a sneezure!"

"What is a sneezure?"  My coworker asked curiously.

"It's where you sneeze five times in succession.  I learned about them in second year Pathology in Medical School."

"Really?"

"Yes," I said and always willing to add a little extra information to the discussion added.  "The good news is that I can't get grandma sneezures because, first of all, I'm not old enough and second, I'm a man.  Women are the only ones who can get them, but I understand they are pretty rough."

For some reason, speeches like this seem to result in much eye rolling...

Sneezure or not, the truth is that I have a cold right now.  Doctors are not any different from average people in that if they are exposed to enough viruses, they will eventually catch one.  Unfortunately, although I am a member of the "secret cabal of medicine," I do not know of any secret cures of either the common cold or cancer.  I just have to struggle along with the same tools that everyone else does -- Kleenexes and Vick's Vaporub. 

The biggest thing about colds is that they are a test of patience.  It is in the midst of an attack of the sneezes that I understand why my patients come to see me after only three or four days of symptoms.  Surely, now, in the second decade of the 21st century we would have solutions that would shorten the course of such an irritating illness.

The hardest thing in life is waiting -- waiting for a doctor who is running an hour behind, waiting at a check out line, or just waiting to see if the prescribed treatment for whatever malady is going to work.  I am old enough that I no longer ask periodically "Are we there yet,"  when we are travelling to some far away land, like Tennessee, but the reason is not that I have more patience than my children.  It is just that I tell time better than they do and know how long our journey is going to take.

Life isn't like that.  When we start on a journey, we do not really know how long it will take or even what the outcome will be.  This is a test of patience and endurance and all of those spiritual muscles we don't like to exercise.

God will take us through every valley He leads us into -- in His time.

Even a bad case of sneezures.

Immutable

"How come you doctors don't give shots any more?"  The old man grumbled at me.  "I remember back in the old days, Dr. Manship would give me a big, old shot of Penicillin and I'd be good as new in a couple of days!  Those old doctors could teach you young fellers a thing or two about medicine."

I shrugged.  "The problem is that the bacteria have figured out Penicillin.  About the only things it works on these days are Strep Throat and Syphilis -- and you don't have either of those things."  I didn't say it, but of course, one of the biggest reasons why bacteria figured out Penicillin was that older doctors gave way too many shots of it.  Use an antibiotic enough and it stops working.

Medicine is constantly changing.  When I came out into practice we didn't give shots of penicillin (I'm not quite that old, although my kids think so), but we could use antibiotics like Keflex (cephalexin) for skin infections.  Unfortunately, sometime four or five years after I started in Paoli, we reached the place where more and more skin infections were caused by Staph bacteria and the term "MRSA" entered the popular vocabulary.

While there are antibiotics that cover Staph, cephalexin isn't one of them and therefore it isn't going to work for skin infections for the foreseeable future.

It is the same in all of life.  It doesn't matter what field you work in or who the people are you work with, things are changing every day.  Changing to meet those demands is part of what it means to be human.

God, however, is immutable.  That is to say, in more every day language, He does not change. 

To some, this may smack of a stodgy old man who isn't willing to accept that the Universe around Him isn't the same as when He grew up.  We've all met folks like that and they aren't necessarily enjoyable to be around as the regale those around with stories of what it was like in the good old days. 

When I hear that God is unchanging, it speaks to me not of stubbornness, but of sufficiency.  The Lord of the Universe is so far ahead of everyone else that He does not need to react to the details of the moment, He has already factored them in and knows where and what the present is leading to.  God does not change because He does not need to change.

This is a blessing, for while we can't meet every need or deal with the transitions within our work or family, God is never taken aback.  He is always sufficient for the events we face.

When we are not enough for life's circumstances,

God is.

 

A Locked Bedroom

I heard a wailing coming from somewhere down the hall of our home.  It sounded a bit like an ambulance starting its siren as it leaves on an emergency call.  A second later, I realized that this sound was coming from my two oldest (and youngest) sons' room.

I stepped out of my bedroom to see my wife standing at their bedroom door holding a pair of pants.  "Vince," she was saying, in a slightly strained voice.  "Go ahead and open the door so I can give you your pants.  We need to leave for church soon."

"Turn the key to the right," Anna said helpfully.

I will digress, just for a moment, to mention that our home has a bunch of old fashioned door knobs, locks, and keys.  Very neat, but often difficult for children to figure out.

"Elliot," Vince shrieked.  "Where's the key?"

"I don't know!"  Elliot wailed back.

"Well, look for the key," Elaine said.  "It has to be in there.  You locked the door from the inside."

"Elliot took it out of the lock and now we can't find it anywhere!"  Vince said.  Truly there was no joy in Whoville.

There is perhaps little more frustrating than listening to a seven and a nine year old looking for a key in their bedroom.  I know most husbands are pretty bad at finding things in plain sight.  Vince and Elliot are already there.

Eventually, I went out through another window and in through their window.  The key was in a corner of their room behind a closet door.

As a result of this episode, the key to Vince and Elliot's room has taken an extended, all expenses paid trip to the Caribbean.

It reminds me of the verse in Revelation chapter 3, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me."  Jesus stands outside, knocking, waiting for us to open the door to Him -- waiting for us to respond.

Unlike my sons, there is no key that must be found before we open to Him.  It is simple enough to just open the door and allow Him to come in.  At the same time, we can find all sorts of reasons not to open that door -- maybe we believe our lives are too dirty to allow Him in, or we are just afraid that He will upset our status quo.

Regardless of our reasons for not allowing Him in, there is no decision that is more worthwhile to make.  Our lives will be changed for the good -- for an eternity -- if we only let Him come in.

Spontaneous Combustion!

"Oh my!"  Kim said, as she took a bite of her burger.  Immediately she began to drink water and to fan her mouth.

"That's hot!" She said.  "I'm really hungry, but I can't eat this, it's too spicy."

"What did you get?"  I asked.

"Some buffalo burger from The Grill," she told me, as she stepped over to the fridge for a refill on her water.

"But which buffalo burger?"  I asked.  "Buffalo meat doesn't taste spicy.  It's just like lean hamburger."

"I got some burger called Spontaneous Combustion," Kim said.  "But I told them to leave off the jalapenos."  She was scraping the cheese and toppings off the burger as she spoke.  "Here, you try a little bit of this sauce and see what you think."

I took a sample of the cheese and sauce.  I immediately broke into a sweat and felt as though flames were erupting from my mouth.  Spontaneous Combustion was too mild a name for it.

I too, began to guzzle water as though I had just returned from a hike through Death Valley.  "You're right," I said.  "That's sauce really has some zip to it.  Of course, I'm not sure what you expected getting a burger called 'Spontaneous Combustion' either."

Most of us value truth in advertising.  Some things are tough to test.  If your laundry detergent says its ten percent better than before, how do you really know?  My deodorant proclaims on the label that it "provides protection for seventy-two hours," but since I shower more often than every seventy-two hours (and plan to continue doing so), I have never figured out if that is true.

I guess technically speaking, the Spontaneous Combustion Burger has false advertising since neither Kim, or I burst into flames while tasting it.  It still did convey the idea that it was really, really spicy.

In a sense, the name 'Christian' advertises something.  It says that the one who claims that title is a follower of Jesus.  It is a name that should speak of a person who does and behaves certain ways -- a person whose life is filled with things like Love, Joy, Peace, and Patience.

It is a challenge for me that people do know that I am a Christian.  If my actions don't line up with who I claim to be,

There are probably a lot of things that are worse than having your mouth set up for the flames of a Spontaneous Combustion Burger just to end up with a normal bison burger and ketchup, but little can compare with the disappointment others feel when a "Christian" doesn't act like one.

The Hammer

"Time to hammer a nail," I thought to myself.   Now, I know there are people who use all sorts of other tools to pound in nails, but I have found in my limited experience, that hammers work best.

I rummaged through the bag where I keep various tools.  There were a number of different tools I came to before I finally lifted out my hammer.  It was looking a bit old and worn, but it still would work to drive the nail.

I'm not a carpenter, but I still figured out how to hammer in a nail.

It is an odd connection, perhaps, but I was studying recently the passage from Isaiah 55:8,9 which tells that God's thoughts are not our thoughts, nor His ways our ways.

I don't know all that that means, but one difference to me is what tools God chooses.  For, if God was a carpenter, He would walk into His tool room and look over His hammers.  Over in the corner there is a mighty sledge hammer -- too heavy for any but His arm to wield.  On a shelf is an expensive claw hammer with just the perfect balance.  To His left is a shiny, new ball-peen hammer.

(We've now come to the end of my knowledge of hammers)...

Looking over these, He will choose none of them.  Instead, He will rummage under a bunch of scraps and pull out an old, rusty hammer that, even when it was new, was one of the cheapest models, but now is well past its prime.

The Lord can see its potential and He chooses it from amongst the other options -- not because there are none better, but because there are none worse.

With that hammer, He will build a mansion that makes the Biltmore look like a one room shack in the mountains of Guatemala.

God always chooses the tools that will give glory to Himself, but He also chooses those tools who make themselves available to His purposes.

It is a blessing.  God doesn't choose to use the Albert Einsteins and Marie Curies of this world.  He chooses to use normal people like you and me.

In the end, it doesn't really matter how great or smart a person you are, it just matters the skill of the Master who is holding you.

Taking My Father's Hand

"Victoria, would you take my hand?"  I asked my two year old daughter as we walked down the stairs together.

Victoria looked over at my offered hand doubtfully.  I wash my hands regularly, so it wasn't dirty, but she still didn't seem too sure of it.  She was walking with her arms crossed, her hand tucked into her armpits.  "No, Dad," she told me after a moment's thought.  "My hands are full."

I suppose my face looked a little sad.  I'm old enough that I don't have to hold hands with anyone for safety reasons, but there are still some people that I enjoy holding hands with and Victoria happens to fall on that list.

Of course, she was right too -- her hands were full, of herself.  It was more that she didn't want to take my hand than that she couldn't.

It makes me think of my relationship with my heavenly Father.  Most of the time, I am content -- even happy -- if He wants to tag-along with me and watch me do my activities during the day.  As long as things are going OK, I don't even think too much about Him, much less pray for His help and guidance.

On the other hand, when trouble comes,  find myself reaching out, clutching for His hand and asking for His help.  The reality is that I need Him far more than I am willing to admit.

All too often I pray, "God please go with me today."  While that sounds fine, I would reach the point where I learn to place my hand in His and tell Him, "Father, I don't know where we're going today, but I will follow wherever you lead."

Honesty

"Oh my," I said to the older woman sitting across from me.  "Your A1C test is really climbing up.  It is up two percent since your last visit.  Are you watching your diet?"

"No, not really," she told me.  "But I do take my pills."

"Oh," I said.  Most of my patients at least act like they are trying to follow their diet, even if they are doing nothing of the sort when they aren't in my office.

She laughed.  "I'll be honest with you.  I'm just not very good at avoiding carbs and I have a real weakness for sweets."

I looked back at my computer, wondering what to do to help her.  Honesty is a start.  If you don't realize that you have problem areas and weaknesses, you will never over come them.

At the same time, admitting failure is not enough.  Confessing sin is only the beginning of repentance. 

There is a reason why there aren't just erasers on pencils, there are pencil points too.  Having erased, we must lift our pencils and write again.

The goal should never be to live in a knowledge of weakness, but to build from that to eventual strength.  Each one of us can move from moments of defeat to lives of triumph.  This won't happen on our own and it won't happen without effort, but by God's grace and with His strength we can make the effort and begin again.

There is a victory to be had in all areas.  Even victory for those with weak wills over the scourge of carbohydrates.

What's on the Menue?

"Mom," Anna asked one day.  "Can I make a meal this weekend?"

That's the sort of question that does not take a whole lot of time to answer for most mothers I know.  The answer is clearly, "Yes."

Anna sat down and came up with a meal plan.  She had all the course laid out, from a Main Dish to the vegetable.  Then, she wrote it up very carefully and posted it on the refrigerator with grand ceremony, quite pleased with herself.

As I read the "Menue," I had to smile a bit.  Anna is a good speller in school, but somehow that didn't quite carry over to all of the items on her list.

I was still pretty pleased and happy with her effort.

It seems to me that when we are happy with a message, we are a lot less likely to pick holes in the style of the message's delivery or shoot the messenger.  When we don't like the message, a flame retardant suit is not sufficient to ward off the flames that follow.

I am reminded of the prophets in the days of the Old Testament.  They were given very hard prophecies for the people to hear, calls to repentance and for the people to turn to God.  The people often hated these communications and persecuted the prophets and even killed them in return.

This is human nature.

It shouldn't be that way.  When someone delivers a message and we find ourselves dissecting the poor grammar of the message, or the stain on the messenger's shirt, we need to ask ourselves what truth is in the message that is speaking to us.

Only with that attitude can we benefit from the message and learn from it.  Only then can we move beyond reading the "Menue" to eating the meal.

A Flat E

Last week we had our piano tuned.  It really needed it too.  It had gone a year since its last tuning and had travelled 530 miles in the back of a moving truck.  I suppose it's not surprising that at times you couldn't tell for sure if you were playing Fur Elise or the theme from Phantom of the Opera.

OK.  It wasn't quite that bad, but it definitely needed tuning.

So, in the course of human events, we contacted a piano tuner who came and opened the back of the piano.  He turned various little screws attached to the strings and eventually finished his work and called it good.  On closing the back of our Baldwin, he assembled his tools and drove on to tune another piano in need.

All was well.  At least it was well until our children began to practice their pieces that evening at which point we discovered that the high 'E' an octave above Middle C was seriously flat.  It wasn't flat enough to be an E flat, but it was off enough that the sound was quite jarring.

All the other notes were perfect, but it is amazing how many songs have an E in them.

Of course, all was not lost.  A quick call to the tuner and a day or two later even that E was back in tune.

As I played a few pieces before the final tuning was complete, I was struck by how much of a difference having a single note off makes.  It isn't enough that you can't recognize pieces, but it is enough that you can tell something is wrong.

It strikes me that this is what having a life without Jesus is like.  It may feel almost perfect in every respect and still there is something that rings untrue, a chord which falls flat.

Humans hear the discordance, but instead of fixing the note that is absent, they try to tune all of the other notes to try to make the discordant note sound OK.  People hide the flat 'E' amongst a bunch of other flat notes and everything is still just not right.

In the end there is only one thing that can fix a life that is out of tune -- Jesus presence within it.  As the notes come into tune, finally, the melody of life will become beautiful.

Focusing on the Right Thing

"Time for some coffee," I though as I poured water into the back of our Keurig. 

It was breakfast time and I stepped away and began making a couple of slices of toast.  For some reason or other, this is my typical breakfast -- one cup of coffee and two slices of toast.

I heard the Keurig kick on and could smell the aroma of coffee coming from it.  It seemed to smell extra good this morning.

I finished buttering my toast and stepped over to the coffee maker to claim my mug.  My coffee cup stood forlornly beside the Keurig, while around it stretched a small pond of coffee. 

I'd forgotten to put my mug into the Keurig and so my beautiful coffee had gone everywhere except into my cup.

I suppose the issue is that I was distracted.  I was thinking about toast and butter and jelly.  I was thinking about all of the patients I would be taking care of later that day.  The one thing I wasn't focused on was actually making coffee.

I think all of us have mental lapses at times.  They aren't intended, but if we were just paying a little more attention to the activity at hand, they wouldn't happen either.

In the Gospels, the story is told of Jesus walking on the water in a storm on the Sea of Galilee.  The Apostle Peter saw Jesus and asked if he too could walk on the water.  Jesus told him to come and so he stepped out of the boat -- a very brave thing to do. 

Matthew tells us of Peter, "But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, 'Lord save me.'"  Of course, Jesus stretched out His hand and helped him into the boat.

The lesson is clear.  Every one of us is focusing on something, just some times it isn't the thing we really should be concentrating on.  Peter was paying far too much attention to the wind and the waves and not nearly enough to the Savior who walking to him across the water.  I'm not very much different.

More than anything else, our focus needs to be on Jesus.  With our eyes on Him we can weather any storm -- even the clean up process of a whole cup of coffee all over a kitchen counter.

A New Year

Today is Christmas Day.  That means that in one week it will be New Year's Day.  It always seems to work that way, even in Leap Year.  I guess the beauty of calendars and math and all that.

I suppose the emphasis in the phrase "New Year's Day" is on the word "new."  A year is the way we mark how long it takes this earth to orbit all the way around the sun (that is if you belong to the Copernicus view of things) and a day is how long it takes the earth to spin all the way around on its axis (assuming, once again, that you don't subscribe to the whole flat earth thing).  Depending on one's age, we have seen a few or, many days and years go by.

It is the new part that speaks to us.  A blank sheet of paper is an opportunity.  It could be a letter, or an essay, or just some doodles, but it is fresh potential, just waiting to be written on.

A field of freshly fallen snow is a blank slate.  Later, animals will track across it and children will heap the snow up to make fortresses, snow angels, and snow men, but till then, it is only potential.

So it is with 2018. 

2018 is potential for both good and evil, blessing and cursing.  What will I do with it?  I don't know.

What I do know is that life is not lived by the year or even by the day.  Life is lived by the moment.

The only way to be satisfied at the end of 2018 is to be certain that everyone of its 365 days worth of moments is lived for God.