Rain was falling one morning last week when it came time for me to go to work. I’d call it a serious sprinkle. Just the kind of precipitation event that I normally revel in. Pick out a hat that you don’t mind getting wet - actually my coon-skin cap works pretty well – turn up your collar and go for it! It’s only water! Besides I know what path to take to stay under the trees and avoid the biggest puddles. It’s kind of exciting, actually, to take a brisk walk in the rain. And as an indoor office worker I’ll take a little excitement wherever I can get it. I scoff at the people who make painful faces and scurry across the street on rainy mornings! I don’t scurry. I see other people walking with umbrellas and congratulate myself. I’m not an umbrella kind of guy. I enjoy participating in the earths rythms and agenda!
If you’re starting to hate me for my arrogance and pride, take heart! My youthful flexibility and mobility were seriously impaired that morning. My hip and back are really sore and I’ve been walking slowly and carefully. I heard the rain falling as I got up that morning and began to wonder if I should drive the suburban to work. The motorcycle and bicycle were definitely out of question.
I was debuting my new back brace at the office that morning. I tried valiantly to tuck in my shirt, pull up my oversize drawers and cinch up my belt over the velcro and elastic monster. I finally gave up. “Wear it proud” I told myself. When the time came to grab the car keys and go I stood at the door and looked out at the “serious sprinkle”. And then I grabbed a big blue and white umbrella and walked out on the porch where I popped it up with a confident snap. Pretty neat little device, really.
And so, off I went with my umbrella over my head. My hip and back still hurt a little so I made some painful faces but I did not scurry!
As I write this I’m reminded of these words from the book of Romans:
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will. (Romans 8:18-27 NIV)
Can I find joy in the earths rythms and agenda when I’m walking with a limp and carrying an umbrella?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Reading Glasses
It all started with the reading glasses. I woke up one morning and realized I could no longer read without holding the reading material at arms length and shining a very bright light on it. So Brenda started me out with a brand new pair of 1.25s. For Christmas she got me one of those little lights you clip on the bill of your ball cap. Now, when I’m wrenching on something out in the garage, I wear my little light on my hat and hang the 1.25s on my nose and I’m good to go.
My back started hurting last fall and I ignored it like I have always done. Even when I could hardly put my socks on in the morning I told myself it would get better soon, like it always has. Even when we got a foot of snow that hurt me to shovel, I figured sooner or later it would heal up and be as good as new.
One day last week I woke up in the night and it was not bladder related (maybe that is actually where it all started). My back hurt really bad and now my hip hurt and my leg hurt! Brenda had been encouraging me to go to the chiropractor. I finally made an appointment and hobbled over to his office. After the first treatment I felt so much better! A day later I was working outdoors and made a one-handed snatch and grab maneuver on something heavy like I’ve always done. The pain shot through my back and leg like a bolt of lightning and really got my attention. I was reminded of the C.S. Lewis quote:
"God whispers to us in our pleasures,
Speaks to us in our conscience,
But shouts to us in our pains;
it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
I was also reminded of my recent debate with my imaginary antagonist: "can life-change occur without crisis?" This pain was a crisis. I was hurting and in danger of missing the mission trip that I had been preparing for.
I hobbled and winced my way back to the chiropractor for my follow-up visit a few days later and got a little relief. I also got a back-brace. That was a pretty humbling experience. I’m standing there shirtless in this guy’s treatment room with my drawers down around my knees when the doctor reaches around me and installs this big black elastic and velcro thing around my waist, then helps me pull up my pants. So now I’m wearing supportive garments! The doctor tells me that a little exercise is good, but to avoid sudden or strenuous movements. On the way home I’m imagining myself taking therapeutic walks around the block under the supervision of my nurse. The back brace has forced me to discover something I’ve occasionally wondered about but never before investigated: the fly on my briefs is actually functional (barely). Brenda told me the back brace would be more comfortable if I wore sweat-pants instead of jeans. So now I’m shuffling around the block wearing sweat-pants? What’s next?
So this crisis has forced me to acknowledge something that the sudden flood of AARP literature in my mailbox did not: I’m getting older. I may, in fact, have encountered a significant milestone.
My back started hurting last fall and I ignored it like I have always done. Even when I could hardly put my socks on in the morning I told myself it would get better soon, like it always has. Even when we got a foot of snow that hurt me to shovel, I figured sooner or later it would heal up and be as good as new.
One day last week I woke up in the night and it was not bladder related (maybe that is actually where it all started). My back hurt really bad and now my hip hurt and my leg hurt! Brenda had been encouraging me to go to the chiropractor. I finally made an appointment and hobbled over to his office. After the first treatment I felt so much better! A day later I was working outdoors and made a one-handed snatch and grab maneuver on something heavy like I’ve always done. The pain shot through my back and leg like a bolt of lightning and really got my attention. I was reminded of the C.S. Lewis quote:
"God whispers to us in our pleasures,
Speaks to us in our conscience,
But shouts to us in our pains;
it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
I was also reminded of my recent debate with my imaginary antagonist: "can life-change occur without crisis?" This pain was a crisis. I was hurting and in danger of missing the mission trip that I had been preparing for.
I hobbled and winced my way back to the chiropractor for my follow-up visit a few days later and got a little relief. I also got a back-brace. That was a pretty humbling experience. I’m standing there shirtless in this guy’s treatment room with my drawers down around my knees when the doctor reaches around me and installs this big black elastic and velcro thing around my waist, then helps me pull up my pants. So now I’m wearing supportive garments! The doctor tells me that a little exercise is good, but to avoid sudden or strenuous movements. On the way home I’m imagining myself taking therapeutic walks around the block under the supervision of my nurse. The back brace has forced me to discover something I’ve occasionally wondered about but never before investigated: the fly on my briefs is actually functional (barely). Brenda told me the back brace would be more comfortable if I wore sweat-pants instead of jeans. So now I’m shuffling around the block wearing sweat-pants? What’s next?
So this crisis has forced me to acknowledge something that the sudden flood of AARP literature in my mailbox did not: I’m getting older. I may, in fact, have encountered a significant milestone.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Crises and Blessings
I once heard someone say that life-change can only occur as the result of a crisis. I don’t remember the argument or the supporting evidence, but it sounded and felt like truth so I believed it . And maybe I still do.
A couple of weeks ago everyone in our church was challenged to begin daily readings and exercises in a book titled "One Month to Live, thirty days to a no-regrets life". The point of this book is to discover how you would live differently if you knew you had only one month left to live, and to make the indicated changes.
At first I rejected the idea of the book completely. “You can’t pretend to have a crisis or imagine what a crisis would feel like,” was the argument that I presented to my imaginary antagonist, “that would be too easy.”
My opponent in this debate made several very compelling arguments that I was forced to consider objectively. “But every Bible story I can think of from Adam and Eve, to Abraham and Sarah, to Christ in Gethsemane is about a crisis!”, I countered, “there’s never an easy path to a significant result.” “Nothing is impossible with God” was the trump card that he played to end each successive round of our dispute.
I was walking home for lunch one day recently, arguing both sides of my debate and making no progress at all. The noon-time sun, shining through the leafless treetops caused me to shed my heavy coat. I instantly thought of Aesops Fable: The Contest between the Sun and the Wind. And that made me think of how gradually and gracefully the seasons change. And it wasn’t a crisis that persuaded me to shed that heavy coat, but a blessing.
Maybe I should read the rest of the book.
A couple of weeks ago everyone in our church was challenged to begin daily readings and exercises in a book titled "One Month to Live, thirty days to a no-regrets life". The point of this book is to discover how you would live differently if you knew you had only one month left to live, and to make the indicated changes.
At first I rejected the idea of the book completely. “You can’t pretend to have a crisis or imagine what a crisis would feel like,” was the argument that I presented to my imaginary antagonist, “that would be too easy.”
My opponent in this debate made several very compelling arguments that I was forced to consider objectively. “But every Bible story I can think of from Adam and Eve, to Abraham and Sarah, to Christ in Gethsemane is about a crisis!”, I countered, “there’s never an easy path to a significant result.” “Nothing is impossible with God” was the trump card that he played to end each successive round of our dispute.
I was walking home for lunch one day recently, arguing both sides of my debate and making no progress at all. The noon-time sun, shining through the leafless treetops caused me to shed my heavy coat. I instantly thought of Aesops Fable: The Contest between the Sun and the Wind. And that made me think of how gradually and gracefully the seasons change. And it wasn’t a crisis that persuaded me to shed that heavy coat, but a blessing.
Maybe I should read the rest of the book.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Turdus Migratorius
I awoke one recent morning to the voice of a robin. And as I lay in bed listening to his cheerful song I was reminded of a triptych that I’ve dreamed of painting. The first panel would immortalize the North American Robin, with his warm orange breast standing tall in the grass. When you first hear the robins singing and see them patrolling your yard for earthworms, you know that winter is losing its death-grip on your world and springtime is not far away.
In the second panel I would paint a broad, green field glowing with bright yellow dandelions. I get excited when I see the first brave and unapologetic dandelion pop up because then I know that warm weather is here for certain.
On the third panel of my triptych I envision a scene that glorifies the firefly, or "lightning-bug" if you prefer. When you hold a lightning-bug lightly in your fist, or drive by a soy bean field after dark and marvel at the bioluminescent display of a million fireflies, you may actually forget that winter ever happened.
So those few musical notes, sung by an intrepid little bird, transported me, in my mind, from a late winter morning with the covers pulled up to my chin, to a midsummer night riding my motorcycle down a country road helmetless and in my shirtsleeves.
All that mental exercise stimulated me biologically to the point where I had to get out of bed and answer a very real call of nature. My second necessity was to make the coffee. As I stood at the kitchen window in my robe and slippers, measuring the water and coffee grounds, my attention was drawn to the big maple tree in our back yard. Another harbinger of spring had arrived – starlings! Starlings (sturnus vulgaris) live in the holes and open crevices of our big maple tree. They invade the dog’s dishes and make a mess on the patio. The voice of the starling does not sound like music to me. It seems very monotonous and annoying. But they are God’s little creatures and they seem to enjoy the warmer days too. And they have an uncanny ability to recognize a BB gun!
In the second panel I would paint a broad, green field glowing with bright yellow dandelions. I get excited when I see the first brave and unapologetic dandelion pop up because then I know that warm weather is here for certain.
On the third panel of my triptych I envision a scene that glorifies the firefly, or "lightning-bug" if you prefer. When you hold a lightning-bug lightly in your fist, or drive by a soy bean field after dark and marvel at the bioluminescent display of a million fireflies, you may actually forget that winter ever happened.
So those few musical notes, sung by an intrepid little bird, transported me, in my mind, from a late winter morning with the covers pulled up to my chin, to a midsummer night riding my motorcycle down a country road helmetless and in my shirtsleeves.
All that mental exercise stimulated me biologically to the point where I had to get out of bed and answer a very real call of nature. My second necessity was to make the coffee. As I stood at the kitchen window in my robe and slippers, measuring the water and coffee grounds, my attention was drawn to the big maple tree in our back yard. Another harbinger of spring had arrived – starlings! Starlings (sturnus vulgaris) live in the holes and open crevices of our big maple tree. They invade the dog’s dishes and make a mess on the patio. The voice of the starling does not sound like music to me. It seems very monotonous and annoying. But they are God’s little creatures and they seem to enjoy the warmer days too. And they have an uncanny ability to recognize a BB gun!
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