Halcyon Evening

When I was a girl I loved reading horse stories. I read My Friend Flicka and Thunderhead and any books I could get my hands on about kids and their horses. And I wanted a horse of my own.

What a wild idea! Where does one get the idea that we might be able to have a horse on a mission hospital campus, especially when you live on a tropical island where you must fight the jungle back from the city? The only place I know of that kept horses on that island was the racetrack. And the racetrack was a mystery to me, because bets were made at racetracks, and as Christians we didn't gamble. So horses were relegated to a glimpse as we drove by the track on the way to our piano lessons.

I used to tell my mom how much I wanted a horse. I'd sit there chattering about it as I tried to problem-solve how we could keep one, and feed one, and so on. What surprised me one day was to find out that my mom really did try to figure out how to grant my wish, but the logistics didn't work out.

Now that I'm grown up, I realize that my mom was right when she cautioned, "A horse would be a lot of work." I know myself well enough to know that I would not have been faithful over time at putting in that kind of effort for the upkeep of such an animal.

Yesterday as Husband and I were out walking in the evening, I spotted several girls going bareback on their horses as they crossed a field, their happy chatter punctuating the evening quiet. I remembered my childish wish. And I smiled as I thought of the good memories these kids are building, and how nice it is that--for a little while--their world can be full of simplicity, and green rolling fields, and horses, and peace and happiness.

Some Sort of Heron?

Click on the picture to see it large; then tell me what it is.I've never been a bird-watcher. I don't like collecting things in general, and have even less affinity for birds, which are--in my opinion--devoid of personality or sense of humor. But I have family and friends who love watching birds and identifying them.

So, for all of you, here's one I spotted in a tree above Garrison Creek while walking home from the university last Sunday.

As I was taking the picture, Policeman Flemmer pulled his squad car up across from me and hollered, "Hey, Ginger! With school starting and everything, aren't you a bit busy to be out taking pictures?"

I love living in a small town!

Steered By a Very Small Rudder

Boats in Friday Harbor, Washington stateI never cease to be amazed at the indications of character in what a person says.

I never cease to be amazed at the devastation that can be caused in a few words.

I never cease to be amazed at the power of a kindly, encouraging word, and how it can be remembered through a lifetime.

I never cease to be amazed at how withholding words can have the same positive or destructive effects as uttering words can have.

When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we can turn the whole animal.

Or take ships as an example. Although they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot wants to go.

Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark.

James 3:3-5 (NIV)

Pain and Suffering

Stormy evening light in our valleyThere's a concept that I don't understand, a concept which the legal world--or maybe it's just this society--seems to assume is correct. It's the concept of monetary compensation for pain and suffering.

What I don't understand are these things: What makes us think that the fact that we exist gives us the right to a pain-free life? How can we accurately determine the value of the suffering that is caused by pain in our lives? And how did we come to the conclusion that money will compensate us for suffering?

There is something very illogical and unrealistic about all these concepts, in my opinion.

I have a friend who lost his wife in an incident. He got a rather nice sum of money in connection with this loss, and he went out and bought a sports car with it. He told me, "I'm enjoying the car, and it was fun to drive it around for a while. But I'm still going home to a house where she's gone, where I still can't sleep at night for missing her, and where I still feel horribly lonely." The money--and the car--did nothing to compensate for his suffering.

Someone else I know lost his job, unfairly in his opinion. He got himself a lawyer to write a nasty, threatening letter demanding that his employer to settle for a sum of money. His employer's lawyer negotiated with his lawyer (Guess who the won? The lawyers, of course.), and they found a place of agreement so that the issue wouldn't go to court. So now the guy gets some placation money--what's left after his lawyer takes a good chunk of it--and ... then what? Does that money change history? Does it erase the hurt memories? Does it make things fair again?

From time to time I receive a comment from someone or other to the effect of, "You're not paid enough for the stress you have to bear in your job." I always consider that rather odd. Are you implying that if I were paid more, the stress would lessen? That's dumb. Or are you saying that working in a stressful job means I deserve more pay? Why? I chose to do this, and I could choose to walk away at any time. Furthermore, "stress" is the way we react to our circumstances, so if I choose to react in peaceful ways and not let the problems of my job bother me, should I get paid less? See? It makes no sense.

There is no monetary compensation for pain and suffering.

The truth is, even if we didn't ask for it, the very fact that someone birthed us into this world--through pain and suffering, by the way--sets us up for guaranteed pain and suffering. We will experience pain and we will suffer. The only question that remains is what kind, and how much? There's nothing fair about it, no way to predict it. Despite what some people believe, the palms of your hands and the layout of tea leaves at the bottom of your teacup don't reveal what it will be, either.

But it's guaranteed. It can't be prevented or bribed to go away.

That's why it matters not what happens to you and me. What really matters is how we choose to respond to it. Character shows up most clearly in times of pain and suffering. Character can be forged in the fires of pain and suffering, if you take the high road. One thing I'm quite sure of: character is not likely to be refined in times of suffering if we think that money will compensate us for the experience.

On the Way Home

Snoqualmie Falls, as I saw it when passing by in the early morning last Wednesday. Click on picture for a bigger view.

Musings While Driving West to East

Today I drove back from Fidalgo Island, on the Puget Sound. When driving alone for long distances (like six and a half hours), all sorts of random thoughts cross my brain. Like for example, the following fascinating observation:

Have you ever noticed that a skunk at a distance can smell like Starbucks coffee?

I kid you not.

And for the record, I happen to love Starbucks.

The Doghouse

The Dog House, a boat I spotted in Friday Harbor, WA yesterday. Click on the picture to see it large and clear.We had a doghouse when I was a kid, but it wasn't for the dog.

There was a tiny room at the back of our mission home, originally built to house a live-in servant who came in on Sundays and stayed through Friday afternoons before going to her home on the weekend. When our servant, Cecilia, died of cancer, we got a new servant who lived close enough to travel to and from home every day. The servant's room was now freed up for other uses.

My dad decided to turn the old servant's room into a getaway room, which he dubbed "The Doghouse." We added a bunk bed and a TV to the room, along with a chair or two and our set of encyclopedias (for reading during commercials, which were boring in Malaysia). There was only an hour or two of English programming every evening on TV, so we weren't in much danger of becoming addicted. But many evenings found various groups of kids gathered to watch some program: Hawaii Five-O, The Waltons, the Wonderful World of Disney, etc. If the program was really popular, kids were squished shoulder-to-shoulder on the bunks and sometimes two shared a chair.

It was a good place to get away into another world that made whatever was happening in your real life seem small. Arguments were few in the doghouse. You could be goofy there, build friendships there, and learn a few things from the book you were reading in between times. The best was when there weren't so many people, and you could lie down on one of the bunks and just get lost in either reading or watching.

A getaway spot is crucial for mental health, be it a literal place bounded by walls or hills, or a space in time that is all yours, uninterrupted by "real life" for a little while. You don't have to be alone, but it must be a place that is "away." And you would be the one who knows what that means.

Everyone needs a Doghouse.

Saturday Evening Dialogue

Seen and heard while returning at dusk yesterday evening from a walk with my parents:

Me: Hey, look at that poor tree in front of the neighbors' place. It has a whole piece chopped out of it so it looks like it's opening its mouth to the sky.

Husband: Yeah, and it's flossing its teeth.

Back-story

Job, by KulhanekLast weekend we participated in a Bible study on the first three chapters of the book of Job, in the old testament. Some people think that the story of Job really happened, just as it's written (as a child and young adult, I never questioned that). Some think it's more of a rich parable or lesson, written to tell us about the nature of God, and the nature of humans.

One of the devices in the story of Job is that it contains a back-story. Back-story is the history behind the main story being told. It often explains the motives of the main characters, so that if you knew it, you'd say "Ohhhh, so that's why!" But part of the power of some kinds of storytelling is in not revealing the "why" until later.

In the case of Job, God is holding court in heaven, and Satan comes to visit. It's actually God who brings Satan's attention to Job, asking "Have you noticed my servant, Job?" An interaction follows in which Satan gets permission to rain tragedy and sorrow on Job's life, with God wagering on his servant's loyalty even when he's lost everything except his own life.

What if we had walked into the story not knowing the back-story? You'd have lost the whole theme of the story. You'd have just read about a man who suffered, whose friends philosophized about his suffering, and whose wife was so grieved that she burst out with, "Why don't you just curse God, and die!" Then you would have seen him inexplicably recover, have ten more children, and get rich again. And you would have said, "Huh?"

See, it's the back-story that brings meaning to the whole narrative. The back-story gives at least some response to the question, "Why?"

That made me stop and wonder: I'm in the midst of this story that I don't understand--a journey that doesn't make sense. Is there a theme or goal to my life? The older I get, the less the pieces all fit together.

I'm not a person who likes "scatter." I walk with oh-so-many "why's" about everything. I could get all existentialist and say, "Well, it just happens. I exist. Inexplicable things happen in the lives of people who just are."

But the story of Job causes me to stop and think that there might be a back-story that I can't see. I'd be curious to know what it is.

Church Musings

Illustration found here.Sometimes I just sit in church and muse about the words flying by (we don't have much quiet time in our church; sometimes I long for the old days in mission lands where you could chew on a sentence while it was being translated into another language). Last weekend the following question occurred to me around offertory time:

Does it strike anyone else to wonder about the fact that "sympathetic," "apathetic," and "empathetic," all contain the word "pathetic," and what that means at a deeper level?

Lucky for you and me that I take my little notebook to church, and wrote it down.

Wrong Day

Illustrative photo found on the internet
Yesterday as I left the house to walk to work, I noticed a little old white-haired Asian lady struggling up Sky Avenue in front of me. She wore a lovely light blue dress and sensible shoes, and each step, taken with bent back and widely placed feet, clearly took a great deal of effort.

I was immediately curious, and walked up beside her.

"Hello," I said. "How are you doing this morning?"

She looked up, surprised and delighted. "Fine!" she said. "It's a beautiful morning." And it was.

"You really look lovely," I said, wanting to give something to her day. "Where are you going?" Then I noticed that she was carrying a big Bible.

"Oh, I'm going to the church up there." She nodded toward the church up at the top of the street.

A Wednesday morning Bible study? I didn't know they had one.

"Today is Wednesday, you know," I said.

"It is?" She was shocked. "Wednesday? I can hardly believe it!" she said.

"It's Wednesday," I said. "That's a fact."

"Oh, thank you so much for telling me," she responded. "Thank you. I think I was mixed up." She turned around to head slowly toward home. I wanted to hug her goodbye out of sympathy.

What a different kind of life, I thought. What a very different kind of life from mine, when in her life the days all run together so that she has no cues to tell her that today is Wednesday, and there are still a few more days to go until she gets to dress up and go to a church service.

Sensitive Plant

Foliage from the mimosa tree in our back yardThe flowers and leaves of our mimosa tree are really intriguing. On Sunday, Husband brought some indoors and made a little bouquet. As evening approached, the leaves folded up and looked as though they'd withered, despite our putting the stems in water. But in the Monday morning sunshine they were all unfurled again, happy and healthy.

That reminded me of the sensitive plant that I used to play with as a kid living on our island off the coast of Malaysia. The sensitive plants grew in the grass, looking very much like our mimosa tree except on a tiny scale. According to Wikipedia, there are many names for this plant: Humble plant, TickleMe plant, Shame plant, Sleeping grass, Prayer plant, Touch-me-not, and Shyness grass are some of them.

When we saw a sensitive plant we'd squat down and stroke the leaves, watching them recoil, contract and nearly fold up in response to our touch. It seemed to me like the plant was more like an animal, shrinking back when it sensed threat.

Similarly, there are people who "fold up" when they sense threat or pain coming their way. Withdrawing from the a world that can't be trusted or that wears you down is a protective strategy. I think Jesus did this when he went off by himself to pray. Sometimes you need to fold up for a while, until the threat passes or until you've regained your inner strength.

It's just important to remember that when morning comes, or when some time has passed, it's time to open up and greet the world again. This picture from Wikipedia.

Bible Study and Your Mind

Here's a little more--this time on Bible study--from the old book I'm paraphrasing as a worship project:

The Bible wasn’t written only for scholars. It was designed for common people. The great truths you need in order to be saved are as clear as noonday. You can’t make mistakes or lose your way unless you prefer your own judgment to God’s clearly displayed will.

Don’t take anyone’s preaching about the Bible’s teaching without studying the words of God for yourself. If you allow others to do your thinking, you will have crippled your own power and reduced your own abilities. An excellent mind can become so stunted by lack of exercising worthwhile thoughts, that it loses its ability to understand the deep meanings of God’s word. Your mind’s capability will enlarge if you’ll put it to work making connections between subjects of the bible, comparing verse with verse and spiritual lesson with spiritual lesson.

Nothing can strengthen your intelligence more than studying the Bible. Nothing is so powerful as the broad, high truths of the Bible to raise the level of your thinking and to give you stronger intellectual energy. If people studied God’s word as they should, they would have a breadth of knowledge, noble characters, and a steady purpose in life that we rarely see these days.

But slow down! There’s little to be gained from rushing when you read the Bible. You could read the whole Bible through and still not see its beauty or understand its deep, hidden meaning. If you study one passage until its importance is clear to your mind and you see how it’s related to salvation, that will be much more valuable to you than if you read a whole bunch of chapters with no clear purpose in mind, learning nothing worthwhile.

Keep your Bible with you. When you have a chance, read it. Fasten the texts into your memory. Even when you’re walking along the street you can read a passage and meditate on it. That will imprint it on your mind.

You can’t find wisdom without paying close attention and studying prayerfully. Some parts of the Bible are so clear you can’t misunderstand them, but there are others whose meaning doesn’t lie on the surface to be seen with just a glance. You need to compare passages in the Bible with each other. You need to research these carefully and think about them, praying over them. This kind of study will bring you rich rewards. Just like a miner finding a vein of precious ore deep in the earth, you’ll want persevere in searching God’s word for hidden treasure. You’ll find truths of great value, truths that are hidden from the view of a careless reader. When you ponder the inspired words, they will be like streams flowing out of a fountain of life.

Always pray before opening your Bible. First ask for the Holy Spirit to enlighten you, and He will. When Nathanael came to Jesus, the Savior exclaimed, “Here is a true Israelite, in whom there is nothing false." (John 1:47) Nathanael asked, “How do you know me?” and Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you." (John 1:48) Just like that, Jesus also sees you in your place of prayer. If you’ll ask him for light, He'll show you what is truth. Heavenly angels will be with you when you humbly, sincerely ask for guidance.