Discovering the POP in a pop gun

It’s been over a year since Papa and Nana bought an antique toy at the Yankee Craft Shop up in Sudbury. My sweet grandson didn’t remember what it could do, because it hasn’t worked properly since it was brand new. Perhaps his parents allowed it to remain jammed so the noise wouldn’t wake the baby or scare her in her infancy. But today I addressed the question, what good is a pop gun that doesn't go POP?

I loosened the cork and worked it a few times and showed Judah how to do it. He was squealing with delight at the sound and ran all around the house popping at stuffed animals and toys.

We made a great game of it. There’s a wild elephant! Pop it! There’s a roaring lion! Scare him away! A truck pulled into the driveway to pick up the dumpster and that quickly became a charging rhinoceros. Pop it! Judah was so happy with the discovery that this beat up old toy now had an exciting new purpose.

Just the way he held it and looked at it reflected his amazement. “This is COOL!” were about the best words he could rally at the moment, but I knew exactly what he meant.

There’s nothing like the satisfaction of finding out what you can do. When something that was lying around or sitting on the shelf, suddenly becomes useful and productive in some way, the joy makes it feel brand new. Wow! There is the joy of discovery, or of re-discovering things you thought you would never know again. This is sheer delight.

Maybe after an illness or long stretch of unemployment someone is able to go back to work and church and community. Perhaps a run-away teenager goes back home and discovers a new sense of belonging. Maybe after a difficult relationship, someone finds true love again. After an operation, a blind man sees for the first time or following a near-fatal accident, a crippled woman learns to walk again. Is there anything quite like that joy?

Are there areas in your life that you feel the Lord could never use or redeem? Maybe there are skills you dreamed of using but discarded long ago. Was there a failure in your past that you are allowing to stand in your way? God is able to open closed doors. Trust Him.

Whatever it is that you may have forgotten, the Lord is able to pick that up and show you how to find the joy of popping again. The Lord makes all things new. Isn’t that cool?

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Time to sleep?

I brought lunch over to my daughter's house and then watched the kids while she did last minute errands around town today. They’re leaving at 3am for a California vacation, so there’s a lot of last-minute things she has to do. Four-year old Judah was excited about having some personal time and all of my focused attention again.

“Hey Nan,” he started enthusiastically, “let’s pretend we’re fishing!”

"Well, okay, what do we need to go fishing?" I asked.

“We need a fishing pole and some bait!” he exclaimed.

"Oh boy, my favorite things," I kidded. "You mean wiggly worms?"

"Yeah!"

We gathered a few toys that could somewhat function as the needed implements and jumped into the boat, which oddly resembled a leather sofa in the living room.

After a lot of antics hooking our wiggly worms (which loved to tickle little boys before they would venture onto a hook), we threw out the lines and started watching for a bite.

“Nan, I think it’s time to go to sleep now,” he announced matter-of-factly.

"Sleep? How are you going to know if you have a fish on the line if you’re sleeping?"

“You just hold on to the pole,” he explained in an authoritative tone. He shrugged and looked at me as if I should know this by now.

"Oh, so you go to sleep with the pole in your hands so that if a fish bites the hook, you feel the pull and quickly reel him in, is that it?"

“Yeah!” and he proceeded to lay back against the ample leather cushions and pretended to be snoring loudly.

I couldn’t help myself. I was now supposed to pretend to be snoring, but I was laughing too hard. It was so cute to watch how he thought you were supposed to fish.

Afterwards, I thought about how far from the truth such a child’s impression can be. Though most experienced fishermen would probably agree that it is relaxing, there is also work involved. And there’s a lot to learn about conditions and casting and timing. After investing in equipment and gear and finding the perfect spot, I doubt any of them get out there with baited hooks and just go to sleep.

What about the church though? Jesus said, “I will make you fishers of men,” so this really isn’t a very far-fetched application. I wonder how many Christians sort of lay back and think, okay, I have my Bible in hand. I go to church on Sunday. Now it’s time to rest. The Lord will bring the fish to my hook and wake me up when it’s time to do something.

Lord Jesus, teach us how to live in full preparation of heart and mind and spirit. Keep us awake and watchful. The lake is truly full of fish that need to know you. Give us the desire to remain alert and sensitive to the opportunities all around us. School us in the real art of fishing.

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The Lord has become my husband

"You will forget the shame of your youth and
remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For your Maker is your husband--
the Lord Almighty is his name--
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;
he is called the God of all the earth."
Isaiah 54:4-5

Despite the awful awakening to pain and loss, I do believe my God is going before me. He has wrapped his arms around my life and he has truly become my husband. He holds doors open for me and wakes me in the morning with a loving touch. He whispers direction in my heart and fills my spirit with song. I can only respond in greater hope and bask in the peace he gives. I am in good hands. The one who holds the future holds me.

Lord Jesus, I know that all I need on this earth is you! I praise you for life and opportunity. I praise you that you have made me secure in truth. As David wrote, even if the mountains should crumble and fall into the sea, I know your love is holding me. Strengthen these limbs and accept my heart as your humble home. Guide me, Lord God. Direct my paths into your perfect will.


“God is my refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore I will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging… The LORD Almighty is with me; the God of Jacob is my fortress.” Ps 46:1-7


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A Fourth of July Parade

On the way to the lake this morning, I saw that the streets around the town common were lined with empty chairs. Everyone claimed a spot along the sidewalk with a folding chair, and then went to the fair. At 2:00 they would come back to fill these front-row seats for a good view of the parade. I thought about it for about a minute. Nah, I don’t want to sit there and watch a parade by myself. Besides, it’s supposed to rain.

So down at the lake I took my seat in the sand,
pulled out some grapes and a book in my hand.
I wanted to be with the Lord today
Instead of seeing some flashy parade.

Two cute little girls in pink sun hats and tropical suits caught my eye. They are dumping sand and water out of yellow pails. Gramma is seated on a big white blanket. She is wearing a white blouse over billowy floral pants, topped by a white sun hat. Crisp and proper. She has a purse beside her and sits with her slender arms wrapped around her knees.

All the sandals are lined up in a row nearby and everything on the blanket is arranged in neat order by the obvious attentiveness of this proper lady. Grampa is standing in the shallow water, patrolling in green and blue. A blue plastic tote filled with buckets and water toys speaks of their devotion to these fortunate kids.

Gramma and Grampa smile at each other and laugh at the kids’ antics, and I am touched by the scene. Then, with a sudden pang, I realize afresh, I have lost what they still share.

I glance around me at all the other families and couples. Young lovers kissing in the water. A man puts lotion on his wife’s back. Fat old ladies, big-breasted black women, even the young and bashful in pale white skin—all are seated next to a companion. Someone to grow old with, someone to enjoy their grandkids with. Someone to smile at and share all the tender moments. I wonder if they all know how lucky they are?

I don’t like to linger on this point, but truth be told, I am the only person sitting here by myself today. My kids all went water skiing and I am alone to celebrate this holiday. This is a time set aside to celebrate freedom, but Lord, there is one freedom that is difficult to give thanks for. It is the freedom from a marriage I wasn’t ready to lose.

I wish I had my camera. Gramma just got some money from Grampa and got the girls each a yellow popsicle from the ice cream truck. Within minutes, the little one was covered with the melting goo and started to cry. So Grampa lovingly brought them back to the water’s edge where they could lick and drip to the heart’s delight. It is such a happy view… Pink little girls and proper parents. Popsicles and yellow pails. So perfect on a summer day. So endearing, it should be a postcard for happiness.

But the sweetness of that sight, their gentleness, and something about the old-fashioned simplicity of the moment transcends the here and now and makes me cry. It is the longing for what I once knew and the yearning for love together that calls forth a little stream of tears to parade down my cheeks. Once tapped, I cannot interrupt the flow. There is a rhythm that insists on spilling out like the drips of a melting popsicle in the midday sun.

Quietly, I blink and watch the characters of this little drama. They feel so familiar now, and yet we have never met. Funny, how you can feel so much love and appreciation for total strangers.

I stand to shake off the dreary emotions and decide to go for a cooling swim along the beaded rope. The parade is over now. It is time to march to a different tune.

Yes Lord, tune my heart to sing your praises! Oh God, let me not be swallowed up in sorrowful emotions, self pity and loneliness. I will trust you in times of quiet solitude and I will trust you in times of busyness. Father, I will look to you to meet every need of my heart.

I rolled over to paddle on my back and suddenly found myself looking up at a better parade. Billowy white clouds marched before a glorious expanse of bright blue sky. A few lovely birds and gulls seem to dance in delight before my eyes, like children leaping for joy. They are just happy to be alive, I mused. Beautiful! This is why I’ve always loved the backstroke. See what I’d miss with my head in the water?

Lord, neither of these were the parades I expected to see today. Tears and clouds are not orchestrated by town planners or accompanied by brass bands along designated thoroughfares. But these are the things that knit our souls a little closer to you--and that’s worth lining up for.

I celebrate the simple fact that I am alive today. I exult in the freedom and ability to feel--yes, sorrow as well as appreciation—and to see a parade across the scroll of your heavens, Father. I am grateful for the blood that was shed to make me truly free and alive!

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Thoughts on whether life and pain are random…

I have entertained a few imposing inner questions along the way. I remember the day my heart screamed out against this terrible thought: Did God literally ASSIGN brain tumors to my beloved husband? Does he actually CHOOSE who will die on the highways this holiday weekend at the other end of some drunken driver’s fender? Car accidents and cancer certainly can’t be pinpointed for God’s chosen people, can they? Does a loving father do such things?

If so, then life must be believed to be merely a string of random events, loosely orchestrated by a capricious God. But I can’t read the Bible and come away with this point of view intact. The God of Israel is seen in a pillar of fire and cloud. He rains manna from heaven and drowns armies in the sea. The Lord delights to show his power and has promised his presence through every trial. He walks with us in the valley! We see him on his feet, on a cross, and ultimately seated on his heavenly throne. He loves us sacrificially and unconditionally. There is none like him.

What have I seen him doing? He is building a kingdom for all eternity. Down through all ages he is focused on this one thing, which will stand forever to proclaim his glory.

On top of this, I add personal knowledge through prayer and a lifetime of experience. This all-important dimension overlays a foundation of Bible study. Years of walking by faith cannot be obliterated easily. Decades of seeing God answer prayer and provide every need cannot fade away in one trial. I have a sure faith that has been proven and tested. One difficult season is exactly that. As my father used to say, “This too shall pass.”

Meanwhile, my own pain and suffering beg the question, what do I know to be true? The same love that inspired God to create us with free will allows that drunk to drive down the road with his senses impaired. The same gift of intelligence that discovers methods for saving life through medicine and technology also invents the toxic substances that pollute our world. God didn’t DO it. Instead, he is the one who is working to redeem the situation for glory.

Human limitations require us to live with this ambivalence. We simply cannot know all or make sense out of the grander schemes. Like Job and Joseph, we only see the immediate page of the greater story. God alone is author of the final plot. We have to trust him to reveal it in time.

Mine is merely the choice to respond. As for me, I will continue to choose faith and just wait for the Lord to show me the rest of the way.


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Judah’s birthday down on the farm

This afternoon we had my grandson’s fourth birthday party at Tangerini’s Farm. It was so cute to watch these precious little ones take off on a hay ride and paint clay pots to be filled with sunflowers. They gave gifts and ate a chocolate tractor cake with ice cream. I snapped pictures of all the ribbons and curls seated on hay bales next to sweet little men.

But the most intense experience came when they were called to adventure into a maze beneath the barn. With flashlights in hand, they were bid to enter a narrow tunnel made entirely in hay. So tight was the entrance that the adults couldn’t go with them. That is, none but the farmer’s wife, an energetic little lady named Laura. “Come on, kids,” she called. “Follow me!” The trouble is, they didn’t know this wiry woman.

Judah the bold was elated with the challenge and plunged in among the first. Slowly, they all entered in, single file and slow-going. The mothers gathered to wait for them to emerge from the other side of the barn. Minutes ticked by. We realized there was no noise. It was sound-proof because the hay was so densely packed. Conversation stopped. Tension mounted.

Finally they began to trickle out. “I want to do that again,” Judah said triumphantly, and plunged in for another round. A little Irish girl named Evelyn said proudly, “I did it! I just followed the corners.” To the mothers’ dismay, some were in tears. “It was really dark in there!” One lost it when he came upon some mud and water.

Then one of the mothers was on the verge of panic. I could hear it in her voice. Her little boy never came out from the first round, she said with a worried look. Pregnant with number four, her hormones kicked in. I knew that wild horses couldn’t keep her from finding that boy. Enough was enough. She grabbed one of the kids’ flashlights and dove in there, belly and all. She heard his little voice from somewhere in the dark, “Mommy? Where is everyone?” Thankfully, she was quickly able to bring him out, but something about that moment might be relived in nightmares.

That poor little boy just stayed in the middle of the maze somewhere. Was he just so confused in the dark that he didn’t realize he was supposed to keep walking? I wonder if he’ll ever know with what discomfort his poor mother had to fish him out of a hay bale maze.

In the same way, I may never understand the agony of what the Savior went through to rescue me from my sorry state. For now, I guess I should hang onto my flashlight and just keep walking.

Flight of the Little Bird

A bright sun is slicing through the cooling influence of a steady morning wind. I am lost in thought. Quietly pensive, I murmured, where is my life right now, Lord? Talk to me.

My thoughts immediately flitted away to an aerial show of active little birds darting out above the middle of the lake. They would dive and then chase each other furiously back to the refuge of sturdy pines on the shore.

Simultaneously, an elegant turquoise kayak has been slicing across the deep. It surges ahead with every stroke of its muscular bare-chested passenger. Even at a distance, I could see his sweat glistening in the sunlight. Progress is remarkable by sheer design. The kayak is sleek and efficient, but whenever the paddles rest, its movement quickly subsides. In fact if there was a current, he would lose ground. Regardless of its beauty, in an absence of effort there is no movement. Sailing would be easier on a day like this, I mused.

The little bird has a different style altogether, yet another brilliant design is at work. His efforts seem heroic as he flies straight out against the wind, rising and falling in jagged attempts to conquer it. I imagine his heart pounding hard in his chest, but despite steady forceful gusts, he perseveres relentlessly until he is well out over the deep. Then he plunges straight down for a cooling dip and some needed refreshment. Thus satisfied, there is a sharp turn-around, and the trip back to the trees is marked by remarkable speed and joyful acrobatics.

I watched the show again. Valiantly struggling out, diving, and then with the winds at his back, the little bird is swiftly accelerated, only using his wings for direction. No need for exertion now. What a beautiful sight to see him swerve and swoop, adeptly circling other birds and trees and finally selecting a branch for breakfast. I could almost feel his relief. What ease, what bliss and fulfillment in this natural display. With a smile, I silently savor his success.

Suddenly, my heart is illuminated and the Lord speaks. My life has come to just such a turning point as that little bird demonstrated before my eyes. Frank and I fought and wrestled, struggling out against the opposing winds of cancer. Then he settled into the water and found his eternal Savior in deep waters. His battle is over, but I was bid back to the trees alone. With my strength depleted, I had to change direction and learn to ride with the winds of adversity at my back. I completely surrendered to their ferocious force. Suddenly I discovered that these very winds girded me up to new heights and exhilarating speeds. I have seen his severe mercy but have been greatly sustained. I stopped striving against God’s purposes. Now I am called to settle down and rest in Him.

God gave me grace and speed on this trip back to the trees of this earthly sojourn. I found that I have been boosted to new heights and carried with the surprising strength of his love. This little swallow rides on eagles’ wings. Now I am embraced in unspeakable comfort. His love and peace abound. Underneath are the everlasting arms.

Your strength will equal your days. There is no one like God who rides on the heavens to help you and on the clouds in his majesty. The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
Deuteronomy 34:25-27

Thank you for speaking, Lord.
To God be the glory.

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The little white sign

It’s supposed to be real hot and humid today but there’s a cool morning breeze right now. The deep water is rippled with a multitude of dark lines that run straight up to the dock ropes. Beaded with white and blue floaters, the rope resembles the jeweled necklace of the deep and stretches across the width of the whole lake. It is a symbol of human reason, intended to undertake where foolhardy youngsters and absentee parents may fail.

Onshore winds drive the turbulence against that barrier and it becomes a visual breaking point. Small though the rope may be, it succeeds in stopping that onslaught, for from that line all the way to the beach the surface of the water is smoothed out to serenity. The color of the water is even affected, and that gentler surface now reflects the pale light blue of the sky.

It is a reminder of the Holy Spirit’s gentle work of grace in our lives. Anything that comes against us has to pass through His protective embrace. He quells the storm and buffers our lives so that we can enjoy the beach in peace. We find safe haven in knowing His sustaining power. What may seem at first to be an unwelcome restraint of His reigning power, actually becomes a sign of his protective love.

I can’t even see the other end of the rope. It is invisible from here and probably runs down into the water on the distant shore. This may be another good analogy of human reason, which knows no limit. God’s sustaining power also, knows no bounds. It will cover you as far as you need to go. God’s strength is as long as our days.

This floating rope is like Rahab’s scarlet cord dangling from her window. It is a silent declaration of safety to those who are in Christ Jesus. Like the sidelines in a football game, the rope defines the safe playing field. The striped yellow line in the middle of the road also keeps you going in the right direction and prevents a head-on collision with drivers going in the opposite direction. All of these are essential guidelines to keep order and protect life. True freedom always has a boundary. The lines and ropes ensure that every citizen is granted inalienable rights.

I just noticed a small white sign with red letters off to the right side of the beach. Anchoring one end of the whole rope it reads: “CAUTION DEEP WATER DROP OFF”. I admit, I’ve never even read this before, though this is only my second time sitting on this side of the beach. Despite the red lettering, it’s easy to look right past it. How much like God’s Word this is. Always there, and easy to overlook in our quest for other pleasures. Yet, it is the true anchor that secures our ropes of reason to a sure place. It gives a solid footing lest the changing winds of life cause us to drift or tangle.

Simple words of warning are displayed for all to see in God’s Word. But none can benefit unless they pause and ponder. It is an announcement of danger from someone who knows. It is the voice of wisdom that quietly stands, in season and out. It is never moved. The hidden story might involve a history of accidental drownings and loss of young lives. Five simple words don’t reveal the details, but the bold red lettering suggests some force of meaning and experience to which we should pay heed. Listen to this! Be careful! It looks safe and shallow but there’s something you need to know.

God tries to give a similar warning. Wisdom calls out in the street, Proverbs explains, but the people continue to pass by. We think we know it all and have all we need, but we’ve never been in this lake before. As we face the future, we are always truly entering unfamiliar waters and there is only One who knows what lies beyond these shores. There's a serious drop off point. If you don't pay attention, you will get in over your head. You're heading for deep water!

Dear God, thank you for your gentle guidance, your protective arms of unending love, and most of all, your anchoring truth. Help me to pay attention to small signs and hold me forever in your protective embrace, Father.

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From my little yellow book

Jul 1 06
Sitting in the old collapsible beach chair at Chilson Beach, it’s a brilliant and peaceful Saturday morning. Only three tiny fishing boats are out on the water and the hum of a small plane is drifting overhead. Of course, here at Beaver Pond there is the ever-present backdrop of traffic on highway 495, but it seems to fade into the background when you get absorbed in the flotilla of ducks and a host of white water lilies.

Once and for all
This is the nearest haven of beach retreat to my house. I was so sorry to hear that the town was going to start charging for usage—$7.50 per visit! Even at 4pm, even if you only come for an hour, and even if you don’t go in the water! Either that, or pay a shocking $75 for a season pass. That seems exorbitant with a season of just two months, doesn’t it? I’m not joining a gym here for Pete's sake. I’m just sitting on the sand and wading in a pond. I hated to pay, but realized it would probably save money and aggravation in the end. Just pay it and be done with it, once and for all, I decided. (As it turned out, they gave me three tags, so the kids can share them. At $25 each, that’s actually not too bad for the whole summer.) But why is it, even God’s free nature has a price tag? Something about this just seems twisted.

I admit it. Now that I’ve paid the price, I am free to enjoy it as long as I want and whenever I want. I can settle down in peace. The sticker and tags show that I am no longer obligated. Once a debt is settled, you can put it behind you and enjoy the view. It’s just like being covered by the blood of Christ. It is done--once and for all eternity, never to be debated or wrestled again. One big difference here though. God has every justifiable right to charge wages for sin. It is his heaven.

Are you paid up?