I grew up in the woods of the Ozarks in Southern Missouri. A tree lives with roots planted in the earth and limbs lifted toward the heavens. I too am trying to grow deep roots while lifting my hands toward God.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Penquins and the Baby Jesus

Our family settled in and watched the March of the Penqiuns last night. I was totally amazed. If you haven't seen it rent it immediately and be prepared to be awed for the next hour and fifteen minutes. I would suggest grabbing a blanket though, watching all that happens in -70 degree temperatures makes you feel very cold.
I won't go into details, but the march the penquins take every year is a seventy mile hike from the ocean to their breeding grounds. Ever watched a penquin walk? They are torpedos in the water and can slide on their bellies like kids on a slip and slide (which they do when their feet get tired on the journey), but for the most part they walk for seventy miles in baby steps over snow and ice. And, they do this several times a year, walking in a single line formation. They look like a parade of tiny lost waiters in a blizzard.
Why do they do this? For Prom night! That's why! It is there they select their mate, do a little dance, fall in penquin love, get married and lay an egg. All in wind chills of -100 degrees.
Then, on a certain day the girls all decide it is time to go to the grocery store, seventy miles back to the sea. The egg, which has been resting on their feet, covered by their stomach, is then passed very carefully to the boy, who then puts it on his feet and covers it with his stomach. If they take too long or pass the egg wrong to each other the egg quickly freezes and all their efforts end in loss. The female leaves to eat and bring back food for the chick three months later! All the males stay and keep the eggs warm over the winter, not eating for almost four months!
It is truly amazing to watch the march of these animals, the journey that is taken in the harshest conditions on earth, in order for them to pass on life to the next generation. And it has been happening for thousands of years. What parents won't do for their kids!

I was there for the birth of all four of my children. I had to go to the vending machines for coffee a couple of times. Our youngest son was born at home, which is an amazing experience but tough on the tupperware. With his birth I had to make a short trip to the hospital with a doctor friend of mine to get an oxygen tank to have in case of emergency. It was February with snow on the ground and I realized once I got there that I still had my house slippers on. That was pretty close to a penquin march. Sort of.

All this does cause me to think of the journey Mary and Joseph made to Bethlehem. A full term teen on a donkey? Wonder how that trip went? Labor pains and no place to stay? Where do you find a mid-wife this time of night in a place where you do not know anyone? I wonder about her labor. That few inches down the birth canal can be the longest journey on earth.

And Jesus, you were born into the harshest conditions in the universe. You came to the bone-chilling climate of cold human hearts and the blazing heat of our shame and sinfulness. Your journey started before creation and is continuing today as you walk ever toward us and with us in this world. And all for life. Real life.

Because of your journey my journey makes sense. You have made love possible. Your presence in the hearts of my friends and family means that I can find hope and forgiveness when my sins have created an antartic in their lives. It means that the sun, hidden in darkness for months, will come out again, and warmth and life will go on.

Merry Christmas.

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Fog

Is fog a fallen cloud?
Or is it a cloud struggling to break free from this earth
and claim its place in the heavens?

While it is here, neither going up or
going down,
I wonder if it knows what a pain it is to all
of us? Blocking our view, chilling our bones,
starving us of vitamin D, grounding our planes,
making us feel weird (ever seen a scary movie without fog?),
and turning us all into bumper car drivers.

I know it is just some meteorological phenomena
that someone can explain. Who cares?
Fog still has no real good excuse for itself,
it should either give in to the sun or
blow itself away.
What right does it have to hang around like some
vaporous buzzard and depress us all-and right before Christmas?

I declare from this day forward that I want to live in a fog-free zone.
(Try saying that three time fast).

Make up your mind fog....do you want to live down here or up there?
How can you be so weak and indecisive?
C'mon, just pull yourself up, I know you can do it.
That's why we say the fog is "lifting," after all.

By the way, just for my own curiosity, how do you do that?

Friday, December 09, 2005

They Shoot Dogs Don't They?

I came home from work yesterday and something was missing. Instead of being assaulted at the door by Lizzy, our Schnauzer, she was nowhere to be found. I called and whistled and clapped my hands and there was silence. Part of me thought that maybe she had been let out and forgotten to let back in, so I figured she was frozen to a fire hydrant somewhere. But another part of me remembered that she had been sick yesterday and was a little worried. So I began a search of her favorite hangouts in the house, to no avail. Finally, I found her laying in the basement next to the closet. Her only response was to move her eyes a little and her usually frantic stub of a tail didn't move at all. She was surrounded by the evidence of her sickness.
I stood there not knowing what to do. I said all the responder words: treat, toy, food, outside, etc. and there was nothing. I realized she could not lift her head or walk.

So now what? Everything went through my head. Maybe she had eaten something bad, maybe she had some kind of dog flu, maybe she was faking. Do I wait it out? Do I rush her to the Vet?
I found myself asking her specific questions: Where does it hurt? What did you eat? Where all did you puke and .......? What do you want me to do? She didn't answer of course, she is a dog.

I picked her up and held her and rubbed her head and moved her bed by the heat vent. I tried to give her water.

So now what? She is eight years old, never been really sick and has been a part of our family.
Why now, at this time of the year? Could we really have Christmas without her jumping in the middle of the wrapping paper, like all the stuff was for her? She has played with the kids, slept in their beds, wrestled with them and howled at us with that frustrated "if I could only talk" howl.

But, I grew up a farm boy and dogs were a useful, wonderful companion that earned their keep by barking at strangers, working cattle, killing varmits and staying outside. Vet bills were reserved for cattle. Dogs could always be replaced.

That thought lasted for a nano-second.

So when Co got home I picked Lizzy up and we put her in the car and took her to a nearby Vet. As it turned out she didn't just look like she was dying, she actually was dying. She had an infection in her Uterus that was about to burst. They immediately took her to surgery.

She is doing fine today and we will probably pick her up this afternoon.

And, she will be present for Christmas. Actually, she probably will be the present this Christmas.

But she really is the gift that, in her own special, stupid dog way, just keeps on giving.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Follow Me?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said.
Besides, it is really hot
and that preacher has worked hard every night
and noone has come forward.
And, it is the right thing to do and I'm one of the last hold-outs in my class.
Plus, I have figured out by counting the tiles on the floor that
it is only about fifteen feet to salvation.

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said.
It really isn't that hard as long as we both agree to certain terms:
You get Sundays and Wednesday nights (see clause concerning athletic events) and
I will take care of the rest of the week.
And I will always be at the right place on your days
if you will promise not to be to obvious on my days, and please,
don't ask about Saturday nights at all.

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Of Course I will, I said.
Especially now that I know how much you need me.
We have a world to save and I am so glad to be here
for such a time as this. Finally, we are (oops, I mean have) the answer!
But wouldn't it be more practical if you followed us for a while?
All I really need is your endorsement.

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said. But I am a little disillusioned.
Can't we just stay here? The world is a very big place
and I have an office now with a growing library (all about you, of course)
from which I can prepare sermons that will make us both look good.
FYI Jesus, CBD has great bargains!
Oh, and as a good steward, is it to early to start planning for retirement?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Again? I asked.
Things are not at all like I thought they would be. I am not at all like
I thought I would be. Nothing is like I thought it would be.
Who really are you anyway?
I will follow-and I do deeply appreciate the invitation,
but I have some questions to ask along the way (humbly of course).

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said.
But what do you really mean when you say that? And are those words
found in all the synoptics?
Can I really trust that those are your words and not the words
of the mythical Jesus? How much is lost in translation?
Give me just a minute to check some other authorities.
Can I get back to you?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said, but I would prefer to worship you.
After all this time going to church finally feels good.
And who knew that experiencing you was simply a matter of changing
worship styles?
Or perhaps you finally caught up with technology.
Whatever, it is good for us to be here. What's the plan for next week?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
No, I said.
The feelings didn't last. And as I think about it, what have I got out of all this?
How can I be sure all I have done for you was worth it? What have we really
accomplished?
Your bride is still in need of an extreme makeover, and you are looking pretty worn yourself.
What guarantee do I have you will be there in the end, which seems to be approaching faster
all the time?
The only thing I know for sure is what I know right now.
Hey, who is the victim here?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Are you kidding? I whispered. Do you never give up?
I can't. I don't know how. I have done more harm
following you than good.
I am a toxin in your body.
You know me, and you still call me to follow?
I am an arrogant coward, a ridiculous paradox,
Wouldn't it be better to leave me alone with what remains,
and avoid the embarassment?

Jesus said: Follow Me.
Ok, I said.
I will try. Will you stay close? I am afraid, not of you,
but of me. Are you sure this is what you want?
Because, I would like to try again.
And is it really that simple, after all? To listen for
your words and do them...and in that I will
know what I can't comprehend?
Deny myself?
Thank you, I would love to.

Jesus says: Follow Me.
For how long, I ask?
Just for today, He tells me.
Ok.