God’s Quiet Shout
Not many things will cause me to get up at three in the morning. Even fewer will cause me to set my alarm.
An awesome celestial event is usually one of those things. First, before I wake up the household, I always check the night sky to make certain we’re not socked in with cloud cover. Then around I go in a hushed excited voice, “Wow, you need to see this. It’s amazing!”
Like the pied piper I amass a dependable following. Our blanket wrapped bodies press tightly together on the back deck. “It’s so still and quiet out.” My daughter remarks as she huddles down content to hang in there until she’s seen it all.
If “eager to see” and “craving sleep” can be used in the same sentence it would explain why our youngest son quietly repeats my wakeup call of, “It’s amazing!” (read: conservation of thought). Like my wife, he doesn’t want to miss out on the experience, but is willing to grab it in a sleepish state and get back to bed.
Seconds before the total eclipse of the moon our daughter says, “I thought animals go crazy and do strange things before an eclipse.” Pulling from my knowledge on such matters, I explain that solar eclipses do that. When the moon is eclipsed by the earth it’s just slow and subtle. Probably doesn’t disturb the natural instincts of any animals. Just then the coyotes in the woods below our house erupt into eerie howls and yelps. We had to laugh at their timing. They humble me and correct my assumption on the spot. We both smile armed with our new knowledge that coyotes are like druids announcing signs they cannot understand.
Our dogs stir uncomfortably, a lone car drives by and for an instant we forget about the moon as it continues its majestic dance with the Earth. We comment on the lights around our rural neighborhood. “Do you remember how dark it used to be when we first moved here?” I ask her. “Kind of.” She says.
The kids were very little when I woke them to see their first meteor shower. She admits little recollection of those early nighttime events. It’s not surprising; she was usually snuggled in my arms more asleep than awake.
Many years have passed since it was really dark at night around our Island home. Next month she’ll start her junior year in college and I have the bitter-sweet realization that she’ll be moving away soon. She must be thinking that too as she begins to reminisce about family, camp fires and points out new homes that have been built around us as she has grown up.
The stillness returns and our gaze is drawn back to the spectacle of the orange-red disc that looks too unreal to be our moon. Truly amazing! The event is not fully over, in many ways it never will be, but we decide to call it good and return to our warm beds.
At first I cannot sleep, but I’m happy I set my alarm. There’s a peace which fills my heart as I’m willing to accept the predictable order and infinite magnitude of the heavens. I’m happy to be allowed to hear God’s quiet shout with my own eyes…
This is my tapestry. I am the creator. I made this for you and all of mankind.
With all my Love, God
What’s in a Seed ?
It’s been a busy day. My Everyday in May promise looked bleak.
Now with hours to go and guilt building fast I looked through my computer and found this article. It’s somewhat dated as to my current lifestyle…lets just say, I wrote this in 1991. Now its 2007 and the “rat race” is once again a part of my life and that “taste of retirement” sixteen years ago is as close as I’ve been.
Now, I don’t want to retire and I’m in much more control then back in the eighties. My burnout in 1990 is another story completely.
This year, our garden’s cover-crop of fava beans and winter rye grass has been tilled in and potatoes and onions are planted. Should be a great year!
What’s in a Seed? was never published, but I’m happy with it. It was and still is what I consider to be, “excellent content.”
What’s in a Seed?
I used to look forward to a day when I had the time to do what I wanted. The kind of time that the “rat race” has precious little of – leisure time. Not too long ago, that day dream became a reality for me. A speedy course of events sent me selling one successful business only to devote my time and energy into another venture which suddenly went belly up. I was thrown into a status as close to retirement as could be — shy of a gold watch.
There was time to do what I wanted, even if it was only temporary. The time to explore new interests. The opportunity to enjoy my family more and even time to read for the fun of it. I travelled, gave talks, worked in my children’s school, and stayed active in my church.
Being fortunate enough to garner this “taste of retirement” I felt a unique opportunity to explore activities that could always be part of my life. I was searching for something that would be more than a hobby. What I was looking for was a pursuit that would satisfy my needs as a Christian. An activity which would fit my lifestyle, it must: glorify God; be of service to others; be family oriented; reduce stress; and bring enjoyment in my golden years.
Walking, painting, music, storytelling… the list went on and on and nothing seemed to fit! Oh, and the practical side of me added one other criteria: It must be something that would not consume all my time learning how to do it. Then it happened. One day while reading the Bible I realized what my ultimate activity was. To my delight, it was something I had been involved with ever since I can remember — GARDENING!
I read: “In a word, there are three things that last for ever: faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of them all is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13; New English) To most people, the reading of this passage will impart a sense of security and confidence in an uncertain future. However, my mind raced back to the past and the people who showed me the meaning of these essential Christian values.
It is easy to recall the fresh breath of Spring in my Upstate New York neighborhood. Our eagerness to play in the sunshine was only offset by the dread we felt when a baseball chanced into the neighbors recently planted garden. Clumsy feet racing to retrieve the ball before anyone could see, revealed the entire event in the soft dark soil. The next day at weeding time we cringed at being discovered, however, nothing was said — not even a dirty look. Had we been able to look the elderly gentleman in the face, we may have even detected a knowing sparkle in his eye.
I remember picking corn and running into the kitchen with freshly husked ears. The challenge of the race from the stalk to boiling pot in under five minutes created an atmosphere of delight mixed with hysteria. If we dropped an ear on the way, tradition dictated that it must be left. After all, taking the time to pick it up would surely sacrifice the freshness of all the rest. The result was nothing less than delicious.
Gardens were special places. God worked his wonders year after year. He was not subtle — even from a child’s perspective. Gardens, were the proving ground of Gods handiwork. Not only did they provide fresh food but they appeared to illuminate the people who were there keepers as well. They were the glorious gardens of my youth, although not unusually large or fancy. It was their stewards that made them glorious. Faith, Hope and Love these were the qualities taught to me by a man and two women who realized the blessings that tending even a small part of God’s creation could yield.
Virtually everybody I have ever talked with has agreed on one thing. Their mother had an incredible influence on their life. My experience is no exception. My mother has incredible faith. Each year she would lead her brood into a clearing in the flower patch and produce the tiniest black specks – she called them lettuce seeds. She expected us to believe that they would grow into delicious salads. Needless to say, we had our doubts. Faith aside, it took only one week to witness first hand one of Gods miracles; however, it did take a number of seasons before recognizing that salads were indeed delicious. That culinary revelation may have been another miracle or simply a testimony of my mother’s faith. She continues to exude a faith and love that win her the admiration of all who are fortunate enough to be graced by her presence. During the summer, she is seldom seen leaving the house without gifts of fresh picked flowers.
My garden adventures would not be complete without my aunt who was raised on a chicken farm during the Depression. Each year her crippling arthritis became more severe, and yet her garden plot grew larger each time I made my annual visit. She had the kind of hope that went far beyond physical limitations; nothing seemed to discourage her, and never was she disappointed as there was always bumper crops reaped by friends and family who seldom were able to leave without a basket full of vine ripe tomatoes or juicy Jersey corn. My aunt’s confidence and trust touched hundreds, if not thousands of lives reminding us that hope is forever. Her garden plot has not grown since she mercifully passed on to be with her heavenly Father – the only place limitless enough for a spirit like hers.
My aunt’s ever expanding garden was directed by her hope, but the initial effort was supplied by a tall, gentle man with a large rototiller, whom we respectfully called Farmer Bill. Bill was not what most people would call a farmer, but to his friends, the title always seemed to fit. Farmer Bill was enthralled by gardening. He could spot soil problems and knew what to look for in seed. He also new about charity. Bill had an old sky blue pickup truck he used to deliver his produce. He was not your typical huckster either; he gave away much more than he ever sold and even that which he did sell, the price was usually a nickel shy of the market and never did you buy a dozen ears of corn that wouldn’t fill thirteen plates. The members of his church and the people at the Home don’t see Farmer Bill’s pickup rattling up the drive anymore, but the years of his love still live in the hearts of many.
It was from these individuals that I learned that during the tightly rationed era of World War II, Americans were encouraged to plant gardens to off-set the strain on our country that food transportation, storage, and distribution created. The Victory Garden became a practical symbol of patriotism. At some point after the War, I suspect thousands of Victory Gardens were transformed into Glory Gardens like those of my childhood memories. A garden whose keepers sow not only vegetables, but the seeds of Jesus’s love.
This year I will begin a tradition by planting a “Glory Garden”. I will usher my children into the garden to show them the miracle of tiny seeds, and teach them about faith. My garden will be a little bigger this year to remember the hope which God has promised us and I will generously share with others, for that is the essence of love. I am confident that when the day for my actual retirement comes, I will be busy in my garden glorifying God.
“It’s All Good!” Not Really, but crashes are opportunities to get a, “Reality Check”
Whether it was a low cloud or high fog, I’m not really sure. But it definitely was the contributing factor which lead to a dramatic spill on the ski slope. Up to that point, the day had been very successful. In fact, after carving down a couple of runs on my snowboard, my oldest son made it a point to send an approving nod my way. Don’t envision a “tight dude stickin’ turns, huckin’ jumps and stylin’ huge air,” because that wouldn’t be me, but I don’t biff (crash) too often, either. So what went wrong?
Since taking up snowboarding, I’ve been forced to take a fresh look at a few of life’s little lessons. Life Lesson #1: Just because it feels right, does not mean it is. Early on, I was taught that even though your mind compels you to lean away from the rocks and steep edges, if you go with that instinct, it is a sure way to lose steering and control. Life Lesson #2: It takes faith to change direction. Another little gem . . . in order to change direction, you must give up the security of the direction in which you are going. Once I watched a woman ignore her instructor. He yelled, “Turn . . . Turn . . . TURN!” By the time he yelled, “SIT DOWN!” everybody was watching as she went right off the run and into the base of a slender hemlock. Fortunately, she was not hurt and we all had to laugh as the accumulated snow resting on the branches dumped on her for nearly a minute.
Neither bad instincts nor lack of faith were responsible for my crash. It was simply lack of perspective. Fresh snow is always welcome, but as we dropped deeper into the cloud, the combination of swirling snow and pea-soup fog created a severe whiteout condition and I lost perspective of the terrain. Where is uphill? where is down? are there bumps I should be ready for? am I on the trail? Suddenly all my questions were answered in a confusing way, as I caught an edge, tumbled sideways, then backwards, and finally face first down the hill. Life Lesson #3: Make sure your perspective is grounded on reality.
In the seventies, if you had a friend that really screwed up, you might help out by saying, “Man – you need a reality check.” Now that we are in the zeros, we never hear such talk. Quite the opposite. Today when a friend really screws up, he is more likely to be told, “It’s all good.” Redefining reality may be the newest American past-time, but just like becoming disoriented on the ski slope, losing an accurate perspective in life can be devastating.
When on the slopes, it’s important to have good visibility, otherwise, you can lose your baring and get hurt. Similarly, when living life, it’s best to keep a keen check on reality. There are obvious things each of us can do to maintain perspective in our life. Limiting TV, shunning drugs and saying “No!” to people who hurt you, are good for starters. Here are some more of mine:
- Go for a long walk. A hike through a forest, or a stroll by the water. Refresh your soul.
- Hold a baby. The younger the better. Soak up the innocence.
- Attend church. Get challenged to learn more about God. Be embraced by His unchanging love.
- Seek out someone who is deeply hurting. Understand their pain. It will lighten their burden.
- Share in other’s joy. Weddings, graduations, births . . . never miss the opportunity to revel in moments of happiness. Smiles are contagious.
Now…it’s your turn. You probably have your own techniques to help ground you to reality and I’d love to find out what they are. So while you’re reflecting on my list, think of a Reality Check you’d like to share with other readers of this blog. Please, comment (or email me ray@earthsuit101.com) your favorite Reality Check.
Zen and the Art of Tile Placement
If you went to college around the same time as me you definitely read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The more I learn about brain science (my newest interest — my wife thinks I’m a nerd) the more I’m convinced that everything we read impacts us in some way. This may seem obvious to some people, but there are others who truly believe we are not impacted by what we read… the same people that don’t think advertising works (you know who you are). One of the things that makes you unique (just like everybody else) is that even though you can read the same essay as me, it is likely that both of us will have vastly different responses to it. Therefore, while the text is consistent, the degree of influence varies dramatically from reader to reader, depending on a lifetime of situations, experience, thoughts, relationships, desires, emotions and a million other variables which determine such things.
That is why Mark David Chapman can become obsessed by The Catcher in the Rye while I found it very forgettable. On the other hand I absolutely loved Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
It’s been a few decades since I read it and I’m guessing if I re-read it today I’d probably feel the same disappointment I felt when I took out my turntable: After the ‘dust elimination project,’ I replaced an ancient phonograph needle and then struggled with wires and connectors. Finally, I ceremoniously took out my favorite Emerson Lake and Palmer album (Note to Chloe — AKA: “big black CD that has two sides”) and eagerly listen to THE sound I had been missing for twenty years. Guess what?
That’s right. I got up turned down the volume and did the dishes. I’m guessing the book-equivalent would happen if I re-read some of my old favorites. So, sorry Robert M. Pirsig, Richard Bach, and most of you other 70’s-pop-authors, there is little chance of a re-read. I’d just rather enjoy the memory.
That said “Zen“ did influence me in a big way and if my fond memory serves me right it’s because of the books thoughtful (and amusing) look at personal quality vs. common quantity. The importance of quality certainly is not a new concept, even way back in the dark ages of the 70’s, but, none-the-less it is one that we struggle with. Our gaze, too often turns toward getting more, or going bigger, or increasing this or that. It is a seductive world we live in and let’s face it, BLING IS ALL GOOD.
A little over a year ago my wife and I decided to do a little remodeling. As it turns out the little improvements to our house have turned into a major undertaking. You don’t want to hear all the details. it will suffice to say, “It’s mostly been a good experience and currently I’m tiling our bathroom shower.”
I’ve spent hours and hours (and hours) on this particular part of our project and as of last night I’m officially a third of the way done. That means I’ve had a lot of time to contemplate the quality of the work I’ve done up to this point. A funny thing is, I’m finding that most of my contemplation is not on the tile work itself, but on the wall behind it. As I carefully position each tile respective to the earth’s gravitational pulls (what would we do without bubble levels) I quickly become aware of any imperfection in the backing wall.
When it was time to put up the backing wall, it was easy to see any warping in the framed, stud-wall. Before that, when I moved an inside wall, I was able to detect any floor and ceiling distortions….
Obviously, this exercise in reductionism can go on and on, right down to the grade of the earth prior to pouring the concrete footing. So, here is the point. There is absolutely never a time in life when we can coast (rest on our laurels), without creating problems down the road. In construction a level allows the builder to create a beautiful, functional home. With out it, or if the builder decides to leave that tool in the truck, the negative results quickly become apparent, and all hell breaks out.
Each step of the building process requires objective assessment against a known truth (in this case gravity). In living this is also true (the ‘known truth’ bench-mark, that is). Unfortunately, there is not a bubble level or a laser or even a plum line which we can check to assess our progress. Left to our own ideas on what is true we are destine to fail miserably in maintaining quality in our lives.
Philosophy has attempted to address this problem. Some of it seems to work, but not in all situations. Even great philosophers have to admit that there are limits to mans ability to reason all things, for all times. Plus whenever man decides to “share” their Philosophies with their countrymen it usually ends in disaster. (democide)
Religion acts as a leveling tool. With doctrine and tradition and historical wisdom, it also has worked pretty well at times. But it too has human limitation. It is prone to dogmatic incongruities and often creates exclusiveness which breeds hatred and mistrust and that leads to disaster too. (religious wars)
So what is the answer? What is it that we can use throughout our lives to guide and direct our life’s experience? Is there a tool, which can be used consistently to personally check and correct everything from foundational issues to the finish work? The answer is YES!
Of course, you want that tool — We all do. Because, once gained, it will create a beautiful, functional and significant life. And when all is said and done that is the only thing that matters.
Allow me to now share this secrete tool that will transform your life into all that is meaningful: The “tool” is a personal relationship with almighty God. He created the universe.1 He loves you more than you can imagine.2 He wants you to live your life in abundance and experience the joy and peace that only He can give.3
God is so truly amazing that we are unable to fathom all that He offers. He knows this. So He sent his son, Jesus, to complete the relationship between God and mankind. In Jesus, we can see what God wants for us, and it is through Jesus that we can be saved (God children are not perfect, but they are forgiven).4 Because He is so good, we are not left to wonder; God’s creation, His written word, and the Holy Spirit are all gifts to all of us who have faith. These are also the tools that we can use to gauge our progress.
Just like a builder, if we chose to not use them or ‘leave them in the truck,’ the negative results quickly become apparent. While a personal faith in Jesus, is not the only way to live life, it is the only way to begin to understand what God wants for you.
Ready – Aim – Fire
When I was old enough, my dad gave me his old pellet gun. It was not a modern, high powered air-rifle. Actually, it didn’t have much going for it. There was no fancy sighting scope and the built in lever pump was difficult at best. It took at least twenty-five strokes to build up enough pressure to propel one of the large 22 caliber pellets. And it was only accurate within a hundred feet. Even so, I took great pride in my new rifle and learned a great deal too.
Probably the most important lesson I learned was responsibility. Before he entrusted me with the rifle, my father made certain that I knew how to be safe with the weapon. I’m not certain whether it was fear of losing a new privilege or if his assessment of my maturity was right on, but my friends and I never had an accident. Whether we were shooting at targets or tromping through the woods, safety was always on our minds. There were other practical lessons. A good cleaning after each use, with the right amount of oil, ensured the rife would last. I learned that things — the stuff we own — require care and that kind treatment and regular maintenance is important. Finally, there was what might seem the most obvious lesson of all: If you intend to hit a target, first you must aim for it.
If one generation can effectively impart wisdom to the next, my wife, Carol, and I should get an “A” for effort. We’ve aimed for the target and are proud to see that we have hit the mark from time to time. Now that our kids are growing up, we find it fun to set our sights on the future, so it’s not surprising that we both love the idea of being grandparents someday. Just the thought of little feet scampering around our house again is enough to bring a smile to our faces and joy to our hearts.
Sometimes, I like to think about the day when they’re old enough to contemplate life questions. “Grandpa, what are the most vital truths in life?” I’ll lightly pinch my chin stroking my grey whiskers, and with a twinkle in my eye I’ll say, “Number one is easy: Get right with God; allow Christ to be Lord of your life. The second one is easy too, Just Like Jesus says, Love others with all your heart.” And then I’ll tell them about my first rifle. They’ll learn to assess situations for safety. I’ll say, “have fun; just add the concept of ’safe risk’ to your vocabulary.” Then, I’ll explain the importance of regular maintenance. “Not only for your stuff, but maintain your body as well. Make positive health outcomes your objective.” And finally, one of the most profound concepts I can impart: “Aim — set your sights on what you want; or better yet, desire to find out what God wants for you and then boldly go for it.” Smiling, I’ll tug at my whiskers again and say, “Strive for the ideal. You won’t hit a bull’s-eye very often, but you’ll be far closer for trying.”
