God Spoke at the Rock and I heard the Voice of Two of His Angels

I got  a second chance to go back to NYC this last weekend. I felt a little more comfortable and a little bit more familiar with the area than my first time.  I had heard about the famous windows of the major retailers and wanted to check them out.  I was also aware of the famous Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center and wanted to go back and see it with all of its decorations, and not all of the scaffolding.

Now that I think of it, the contrast of my first trip versus this second trip plays rather well with a touching event that occurred as I was mingling within the crowd of tree gazers.

As I was staring up at the tree and its decorations, I heard the distinct sounding voice of an individual with a mental disability.  Please don't take this wrong, but sometimes the cadence, sentences and pronunciation of words from an individual with a disability is very telling.  And thus, I was touched by this individual's words, "See right there Micheal.  That's what we'll look like when we go see Jesus.  Do you see those angels right there, they're beautiful and perfect, and that's what we'll look like when we go see Jesus.  Do you see them, so pretty and perfect.  Yep, God's blessing will be on us and we'll get to look like that."  Another man next to the first, head cocked just so slightly off to the side and a little off balance responded to the first, "That sounds just about fine to me."

I asked the first man if the man standing next to him was his brother, or a friend, or ...?  "This here is my friend!"  The first proclaimed.

"Well God bless both of you, may God bless both you and your friend this Christmas."

"Well thank you very much.  Thank you"

And the three of us shook hands.  And I left to see the rest of the Christmas windows.

But these two men stuck in my head.  First, I was comforted by the fact that these two men were able to venture out on their own, together, to take in the sights of Christmas.  I was touched by their ability to not only see God in Christmas, but imagine His blessing upon them in a time to come.  I was comforted and touched because these were answers to questions I have been asking God myself.  Will my son be able to go out on his own and take in the sights of Christmas.  Perhaps not alone, but I pray that the Lord has an awesome friend for him to go out and see the world with.  Will my son ever be able to imagine God's blessing upon him?  Why not?  In fact, right now it makes me wonder what he thinks he will get to look like when he goes to see Jesus.  Oh man, the wonders that could be going on right now.

Flight Delayed, Gate Closed

Just recently I was called out to the state of New York to help out some colleagues finish a project they were working on.  The call came on a Monday, I flew out at 5:30am on Tuesday.  Needless to say the flight plans were thrown together.  On my trip out I had three legs on 3 different planes: Portland to Phoenix, Phoenix to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Albany.  The first two legs went fine, I had enough of a layover in Phoenix to allow my luggage to catch up with me.  But, I had to change terminals and concourses in Philly, a change that required me to get on a shuttle to get from one terminal to the other.  I had less than an hour to make the change, and even made it to the gate a few minutes late.  I couldn't help but wonder, if I barely made it to the gate, how was my luggage going to make it on time.  Since my final destination for the project was an hours drive away from the Albany airport, I feared that I would have to drive back to the airport in the following days to retrieve my clothes and learn to make due until then.

  When I arrived at the gate, there was a crowd waiting around impatiently pacing because the flight had been delayed.  Apparently no one had any clear information to the nature of the delay, and none had been given from the airline staff, just a delay.  I spent the time waiting and watching the luggage loading onto the plane.  As the gate was opened and boarding began, I saw my bag get heffted up onto the loading dock and disappear into the belly of the plane.  I breathed a sigh of relief with thanks to the Lord for having taken the time to ensure my luggage still caught up with me.  The pilots voice came over the intercom as we were taking our seats, "Sorry for the delay folks, something mechanical looked out of place and we wanted to make certain everything was fine before we pulled away from the gates.  Your safety is our highest priority and we wanted to be sure.  Thankfully nothing was wrong and everything was fine."  I couldn't help but think an illusion was created to delay the plane just long enough to make sure everything else was also ok.

On my return flight, I had a similar flight arrangement: Albany to Chicago, Chicago to Denver, Denver to Portland.  The change over in Chicago was scheduled to be even worse than my Philly terminal change.  I was supposed to land in Chicago at 6:01pm and take-off at 6:41pm, leaving barely enough time to get in line for the next plane, let alone enough time to change terminals and get my luggage transferred.  But all of that was blown away when I arrived to the check in line in Albany.  "Folks, they are experiencing high winds in Chicago and the flight controllers out of Chicago are calling for a 2 hour flight delay for all inbound flights.  We are looking at a departure time of 6:23pm here in Albany, with a landing in Chicago around 8:30pm.  Since this is a weather related delay, if you miss your connecting flight out of Chicago, you are unfortunately on your own for hotel arrangements for the night.  We can assist you in rerouting to another flight for your final destination, but earliest flights out of Chicago are not scheduled until 4am tomorrow..."  With the delay, my flight was going to be leaving 20 minutes after the time I was supposed to be landing.  Making my connecting flight was an impossibility.  Worse yet, I was anxious to get home and get repacked for our Thanksgiving trip out to the Oregon Coast.  My plans were falling through and it was beginning to look like I would be making it home sometime around noon the following day.

When I finally made it up to the check-in counter, I asked the agent to clarify what my options were and how I was to be certain that my luggage would make it back home to Portland.  Apparently there was an earlier flight bound for Chicago that was running two hours late.  It was scheduled to take off a half hour before our flight was originally supposed to take off, the chances were slim, but the agent put me on the stand-by list for this slightly earlier flight.  But to ensure my luggage made it to Portland, he put it on the earlier flight to give it a head start.  If I were to miss getting on the plane as a stand-by customer, I would have to wait for my regular delayed flight, get to Chicago late, sleep in the terminal and catch the 4am flight from Chicago to Denver, which would get me home sometime around noon the next day.  Not great, but it was a plan.

As the early flight was boarding it was very apparent that I was not going to be getting on as a stand-by customer.  But, the regular flight was pulling up to an adjacent gate, weather had calmed in Chicago and my original flight that was delayed for two hours was beginning to look like it could depart on time. Eventually we boarded the plane twenty minutes late, then sat on the runway for another ten minutes waiting for take-off clearance from Chicago.  My tickets gave me forty three minutes to change flights once in Chicago, but the thirty minute delay cinched up very tightly any time I had to make the transfer.  Catching my connecting flight was going to be nearly impossible.  But at least my luggage was on its way.

We landed in Chicago at 6:37pm.  As soon as I stepped off the plane I searched for the nearest flight status display board.  My flight out was showing that it had already closed the gate.  But I made a dash for it anyways.  Now here's the point where God and I started having a short conversation.  My state of anxiety and stress over the changing schedule turned into a state of curiosity.  The gate to my connecting flight was once again in another terminal, this time one that required me to find a tunnel that led me underground and across the airplane parking lot.  Though the status board said "Closed", the Lord's voice in my ear said, "hurry, not too fast, but don't hesitate."  So I quickened my pace and ran through one of the nation's busiest airports.  Yet, just as the board stated, when I arrived at the gate, it was closed, no agents anywhere to be found, no customer service to assist in figuring out how to get from Chicago to Portland now that my flight had already departed.

Then I heard the voice inside me say," I have already prepared the way for you Aaron, you just have to find it."  The Lord and I play this game a lot.  For those of you who have read my stories about Goodwill Shopping, you understand this hide-and-seek game we play together.  So, I turned and set out down the concourse, not in a state of panic or anxiety, but in an anxious state of wonderment.  What had the Lord prepared for me, where should I look and to whom should I speak?  Though my original flight plans routed me through Denver and departed at 6:41pm, there was a direct flight from Chicago to Portland that was departing at 8:23pm.  The departing gate was a few gates down from where I was at, so I headed that way hoping that a ticketing agent would be present to help make some new arrangements.  Yet, as I headed that direction I sensed that there was no reason to head directly to that gate, I just needed to find a ticketing agent that could help.  So I changed direction and headed towards the nearest gate with an agent standing at the counter.  But as I approached the counter the agent left and started heading down the concourse.  So I followed.  A short distance down this agent stopped next to a rather important looking man dressed in a business suit and holding a radio walkie talkie.  I interrupted whatever conversation had begun between the two men," Excuse me, do both of you work for this airline?  I need some assistance..." and I explained how my day had gone so far and the missed flight scenario I had found myself in.  The important looking man turned to the agent I had spied a little earlier and stated, "Bob, see what you can do about getting him onto the direct flight."  And that was it, Bob put me on stand-by for the direct flight with the instructions that I needed to be at the gate at 8pm, no later, and wait for my name to be called.  I missed my flight and the gate was closed, but I had been gifted a moment to rest and actually sit down for a bite to eat before the long flight home.

Just as Bob had assured me during our short exchange, the plane had plenty of seats.  In fact it had enough seats that I didn't have to sit in the middle, shoulder to shoulder, with other passengers.  Crazy enough, I beat my luggage to Portland and ended up waiting a half hour for it to arrive on my original flight out of Denver.  All in all, by being stuck on stand-by I ended up getting on a direct flight from Chicago, I was assigned a seat with only two occupied seats, allowing me and the other individual to spread out and relax a little bit more comfortably, and I beat my luggage home.  Had none of the flight delays occurred and the gates been open, I would have ran through Chicago O'Hare with little to no time to eat or recover before the next flight took off.  I would have been layed over in Denver for two hours and landed in Portland at almost midnight.

Instead, just as the Lord has assured me, He had prepared the way for me, I just had to find it.  And I made it home sooner than I had anticipated would happen at the beginning of the trip.  I was expecting a long night and landing in Portland the next day, but I landed ahead of schedule.

As I recalled the trip and these assurances from the Lord in my telling of the story to my wife, I couldn't help but wonder how much bigger this message was, and is, supposed to be for me, us, and others that know us.  "I have prepared a way for you...if you seek me you will find me...for I know the plans I have for you...I have gone and prepared a place for you..."  When we encounter delays in our lives, or closed doors and gates, we need to react with anticipation for finding the surprises the Lord has already placed in our paths.

Online Filtering

I installed a filtering/control software on our kids system a few weeks ago.  The software sends me an email every time someone requests a new password to either bypass the controls or uninstall the software.  I get daily updates letting me know a new password has been requested.  This new software package has really disrupted my oldest autistic sons internet browsing and computer use.

My son likes to use the computer.  It is one of his few places of solace and control.  The PC is the one thing that is predictable in his life...sort of.  Several months ago he discovered the world of YOUTUBE while looking up online tours of the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  Since then we have all discovered how rude the rest of the world can be.  Caio, Caio! of all things, buttheads have taken clips of Caio, the cartoon about a rather anxious child, and turned them into perverted renditions with dialogue that is the sign of non creative minds.  Anyhow, I tried the "parental" control level provided on youtube, and they filtered some but not all of this crap out.  So, the next level, local parental controls.

The software allows us to set time frames of when the internet is available and what level of internet content can be accessed.  The content level is updated frequently from other users, plus we can add specific sites that are either allowed or not allowed.  So the kids can access NetFLix where we can monitor and control the content, and not access YouTube...at all.  But this introduction of control on our end has made it visible to our ASD kiddo that his control over the medium is not what he thought it was.  Very distressing.  He ends up in tears often as he begs for us to remove this control system.

But I like the end result.  He knows exactly when internet access is allowed, and when it has been turned off.  He has subconsciously scheduled his time around this access time.  Which means he has also found other things to do when the internet is not available, like going outside and swinging.   But the tears are persuasive, sometimes.

The next obstacle, figuring out how to limit and control access to the Wii.

A Roll of Wrapping Paper

This story came to me as a dream one night.

Its the holiday season, and I am working Christmas Eve at a department store, the Toys and Books section of a major retailer.  I find myself down on my knees making order out of the chaos left behind by last minute and better late then never shoppers.  My new and young family has delayed their celebration until my shift is over and I get to go home, each minute ticks by at the rate of falling leaves from early autumn trees.  The book racks are a mess and I am putting them back in order, it pains me to know that Christmas Eve is passing me by.

In the quiet of the store I hear two pairs of small rustling feat and child like whispering.  I quiet myself to try and gain a sense of the direction of this pair of misplaced elves that are out on the Eve of Santa Clause and presents.  From around the end of the books case on my right appears a young little lady, round face and braided sandy blonde hair.  She is wearing a plain and simple dress, but in a pretty Christmas Eve fashion.  She turns her head to direct her call to someone behind her and hidden by the book shelf, "here he is, I found him."  At which point a young little man appears from around the end of the shelf.  He surveys me from head to knees, studying me up to see if his sister is correct, then nods his head in an approving motion.  She faces me, takes a few steps towards me, tenderly grabs my hand that is resting on a nearby shelf, and touches it to her face.  She leans her head into my hand so that her cheek is cupped in my palm.  Then she smiles, it is a satisfied and relieved smile.  She raises her other hand so that her two little hands encircle my palm, looks at me in confidence, then comments,"you can do it, you just have to know when the right time is to do it.  But you can save us."  She smiles once again, and then her and her brother run off around the end of the shelf  and the sound of their feat quickly fades away.

You can save us, you just have to know when the time is right?????  This moment perplexes me as I crawl into my thick down coat, ear muffs, scarf, gloves, and hand made mittens.  The time has finally come and my shift is over.  Its late, and its cold outside....very cold outside.  The walk home is not a long one, but its not a short one either.  You can save us....?  My want to be home with my kids must have been drawing me into the magic of Christmas a little too much.  As I zip up my coat and cover my cheeks the cold of outside tickles the few exposed parts with its prickly greeting.

The street tops are black and shiny.  The parking lot is a hazard that needs to be crossed.  A short distance away, down the road in the direction I am traveling, there remains a remnant of blinking lights and emergency vehicles that are the clean up crew of what appears to have been some sort of vehicular accident.  I can't really put together the pieces from a distance, but it appears that a black vehicle of some kind has been torn into many small pieces.  Drawing nearer to the scene I only then begin to notice the train tracks that run parallel to the road I am walking.  They are on the opposite side of the street and hidden behind tall grass and guard rails.  Apparently the black vehicle made an attempt at crossing the rails.  The crossing is open and unguarded by mechanical barriers or warning signals.

Its Christmas Eve and unlike me, someone else was not going to be making it home for Christmas.  I lower my head and mumble a prayer into the weaves of my scarf.  And then the world around me goes into rewind.

I am standing still while the scene of the black vehicle and train crossing unfold before me in reverse order.  It happens quickly, like watching a movie after hitting the reverse scan button.  The emergency vehicles become a frenzy of activity then disappear.  The black remnants of the vehicle join together and jump back up on the tracks in the form of an SUV Suburban style pickup.  The beastly train engine roles backwards on its tracks heading back in the direction from where I had just been walking.  The Suburban backs off the tracks and heads backwards down the road from the direction I am heading until its lights blend into the backdrop of the other vehicles out on this cold dark evening.  I find myself, alone, in a quiet state of amazement as I wonder what it is I just witnessed.

I peer down the road, the headlights of the black suburban are approaching me, and the intersection that it just backed away from.  In stunned disbelief, I watch as it makes the turn back up the intersection and stops at the railroad crossing.  It pauses for a short moment, the train is coming, its screeching its horn.  The driver of the suv has time to cross, but very little of it.  They decide to try and cross and their car stalls out half way across the rails.  Two adults jump out in a panic, a man and a woman.  They are clamoring for the passenger doors as I hear the word,"kids!!!" exclaimed.  They manage to get the doors open but the child safety seats prove to get the better of them.  In a sudden flash and screeching of horn, the train consumes the scene in a blurr.

The straggling emergency vehicles and their drivers continue to clean up the scene as I come back to my senses.  The cold and Christmas have really gotten to me.  I continue in my trek, homeward bound.

 I gingerly pick my path over the hard and frozen terrain, taking my steps cautiously not knowing what is ice and what is dry.  Street lights are infrequently spaced and illuminate portions, but not all, of my trail home.  Car lights approach and pass by.  I have formed my own worn pathway thru the taller grasses and weeds that have overgrown or filled in the patches of missing sidewalk.  Parts of this trail are disturbingly close to the road and gusts of wind toss my scarf around when cars whisk by a little to quickly.  I come to a vacant lot that spans from the road on my left to the back yards of a townhouse community on my right.  One of my well worn paths cuts across this lot and ends in a narrow passage between two of the humble abodes.   I am partially thankful that the night has turned so cold, my normally muddy path is hardened and easy to traverse.  The narrow gap at the end drops me off into a quiet and well kept neighborhood.  The homes are too tightly packed together for my liking though.  But at least the cars are no longer zinging by with cold wind gusts.

Down a block or two the town homes turn into real homes on lots with space in between them.  A few houses down on my right a black suburban style suv is idling in a driveway.  Its exhaust creates a whimsical dancing cloud of vapors while its owner is standing by the open drivers side door, bringing warmth to the outside air while cooling off the interior.  The owner appears to be a man of middle age, dressed in a black hip high wool looking coat, jeans, black shoes, and very cold looking nose and ears.  He glances at his watch several times, peers into the cab at the dashboard, honks the horn a couple of times, leans out from the cab and up to the lights on the second level of his home.  He mutters to himself, "come on you guys."  The nose of the suv is sticking out across the sidewalk and I have to dodge around it as I pass by.  In only a glimpse I see the young little man sitting in the middle row right hand passenger seat.  He looks bored, unaware of my presence as he stares at the cab's dome light.  No sooner have I passed when I hear the sound of an opening and closing house door.  "We're coming, we're coming.  She had to wrap one last present for the little girl on the list."  I peer back to see a motherly figure round the back end of the suv and climb into the front passenger seat.  The fatherly figure lifts his daughter into the drivers side middle row and helps the little round faced cherub with braided hair secure the straps of her car seat.  Dad climbs in and I catch the remnants of a comment as he closes the door preparing to drive away, "We need to stop and get some gas."  And they drive away back into the direction I had just come, back in the direction of the gas station that's just down the main road and on the other side of the railroad tracks.

My footsteps stop, the rewind movie scene happens again, but this time I am drawn backwards with it.  The suv backs its way into the driveway, mom steps out and walks backwards and vanishes in the dancing exhaust.  I leave my path and I am drawn backwards into the house with mom and the daughter.  Up the stairs we go and down the hall into a back bedroom, a master suite, mom and dad's room.  The motion stops, perched on the bed are flustered mom and determined daughter.  Mom is trying to help the daughter wrap up a small present in remnant newspaper pages from the Sunday comics.  "This will have to do sweetheart, if we take up anymore time we won't deliver the gifts before Christmas Eve is over.  The little girl will understand, she probably won't even notice."  "Okay mommy, I guess.  Mommy? Will we miss Christmas Eve if we don't get back home in time?"  "Oh, I think Christmas has already come to our home, we just want to make sure it makes it to others....Now come on, get your coat."  Honk! Honk! cuts thru the moment as mom and daughter snatch up the last gift and rush off down the hall amid flying coat arms and bustling feet.

I am left standing in the bedroom, a passive observer of this evening event.  The lighted rooms at the end of the hall grow brighter as if day is dawning, but once again in reverse motion.  The world is whirling around me, I sense motion and activity, but the room itself stays still.  I silently walk the hallway to the top of the stairs.  There is a railing and banister, the hallway opens up to allow the residents to see down onto the front room.  It is a welcoming sight, and the activity around me slows to a normal pace.  Below me at the foot of the stairs there is a knock at the front door.  The little girl comes bounding into the room from some room off to the other side.  "Wait....don't open the door without mommy or daddy around."  "Ohhhhhhh"  Mom opens the door to an unexpected guest, "GRANDPA!!!!!!"  "Hey my little cherub.  How's my angel on Christmas Eve?"  The little braided angel gives grandpa a hug.  Grandpa hands off the packages and bags of gifts to mom and lifts his little princess for a proper hug of affection.  Mom delivers the gifts to the back living room and returns to help grandpa remove his hat, gloves, and coat.  Grandpa hands off the coverings and whispers in a covert fashion,"do you have any extra wrapping paper?  I didn't get all of those gifts wrapped and the stores were all out."  "Sure, we have a little bit left, just enough I'm sure."

I slip down the stairs and enjoy the chance to observe this family as grandpa sneaks away to finish wrapping his gifts, mom preps the table for dinner, they enjoy their traditional Christmas dinner. During dinner the family conversation hints that this is not a typical Christmas evening for them.  They are excited for some event coming later in the evening.  The kids are excited about the gifts they are getting to give away, especially the little prize meant for some little unknown girl.  Grandpa wishes them well, gives each a warming embrace and says his goodbyes.  Not sure how this all works, I take the opportunity to step outside during grandpa's departure.

As I step outside the sky is bright and the sun sets at mid-morning.  I have some errands to run.  My wife has tasked me with running to the store for some eggnog, just the small carton, a simple indulgence for Christmas.  Working in the toy department barely pays the bills, it doesn't pay for the holiday season.  "Oh, and some cookies....for Santa Clause."

Everything in the store that has to do with Christmas is half off, even the eggnog.  Feeling a little sense of good tidings, I head toward the kids section, some coloring books and crayons can't cost too much, especially at half off.  As I stand in line waiting to make my purchase I spy a small stand of wrapping paper, $0.50, and I have just enough to cover it, maybe a little Christmas will come to our home after all.  In the small stand is the last roll of gift wrapping, yellow with white bows, my daughters favorite.  And then it happens, grandpa steps up behind me.  We are both eyeing the roll that sits just out of both of our reach.  He sees my eyes, the coloring books and crayons, and relinquishes his claim, the last roll of wrapping paper.  This is where it hits me, "you just have to know when the time is right.  But you can save us."  The line moves forward, I can now grab the roll of wrapping paper.  I lift it up and out of its stand, assess its value, and hand it back to the loving man.  "Here you go, you are going to need this more than I ever will." He smiles and thanks me for my kindness.

I make my purchases and head back out into the cold with my unwrapped gifts and carton of eggnog.  The brown bag I carry them home in will have to be sufficient for gift wrapping this year.  I don't get to see it happen, but I already know how this one decision plays out in the rest of the story.  Grandpa heads off into his day and wraps all of the gifts he has purchased.  He no longer needs to borrow the last remaining wrapping when he drops by for dinner.  The little girl now has plenty to wrap the last gift in and no longer struggles over using the Sunday comics.  The SUV leaves on time and doesn't sit idling, using up the last few precious vapors waiting for mom and daughter.  The vehicle full of an anxious family runs over the tracks with no train even in sight and stops off at the local pumps with petrol to spare.  And they head off into the late evening with no unexpected events.  And my daughter gets a coloring book and some crayons, wrapped in the grocery bag from the local store.

As I head back home with my purchases the sun begins to drop, evening and then night come quickly.  The air grows bitingly cold and my bare hands seek the shelter of my pockets.  It is then that I realize my carton of eggnog is gone and my hands are covered with my walking home from work gloves.  It is the late evening again and I am passing the railroad crossing once again.  As predicted, there are no signs of an accident.  I cross the vacant lot and thru the narrow passage.  Down the road to where townhouses become real houses.  The driveway of the home I had visited is empty, all lights are out inside.  They are already on their way to their destination.  A few more blocks and turns down darker and darker streets I draw near to my home.  The lights are on and two little faces peak thru the curtains.

I open the door and enter into the warmth of home and loving little arms.  As I am removing my layers of protection from the cold, the window draperies become illuminated by the headlights of a large vehicle pulling into our empty driveway.  My wife smiles with bridled excitement.  There is a knock at our door, and the sound of little excited voices chatter from just outside.  My wife composes herself as she prepares to accept guests into our little home.  She opens the door and there in the entry way stands the family I visited earlier, mom, dad, little boy, and little girl with braided hair and simple dress but in that pretty Christmas way.  They are smiling, "Hi...um...your neighbor signed you guys up for our church's Give a Gift Christmas program.  Um...we called earlier but your wife...hi...said you didn't get home till later tonight.  So...um...here we are....we have a load of gifts for you...and...uh...some special ones we got just for...um...the card said two little kids, a boy and a....there they are...a...um....girl.  Anyhow, Merry Christmas!!!" "Come in, come in" my wife gestures as she invites this family in.  Dad heads back to the car and makes several trips to deliver enough gifts to fill our front room.  The little girl pulls a little treasure from within the folds of her coat, a little gift wrapped in yellow wrapping paper with white bows, and lovingly hands it to my daughter.

Free will and the Tree of Life

As I was driving home today some thoughts that I have been turning over in my head finally came together.  The first thought that I have turned over in my head for a good number of years concerns free will and how God could know our beginning and end if we actually have free will.

A common question concerning free will and God is this, if we truly have free will, the right and ability to choose our own destiny by the decisions we make daily, then how does God know the beginning and the end of our lives?  If He knows the path our lives will take, then aren't our lives already planned from the beginning to the end and free will is an illusion?  This thought and question assumes that a path is a singularity, in essence, a path is like the single row of packed earth that cuts through a field where cattle and other animals have trampled.  We can all see such a path in the images of our mind, no diversion or cuts to the left or right, but a solid singular path.  But let me say, I think our lives are like trees (I'm going to change this to vines in a little bit, but a big old maple or oak tree is easier to envision right now) Our lives are trees, the trunk is the main path that springs up out of the ground with it foundation found in the roots of who we are, ancestrally and genetically.  It is the base that forms in the years before we begin to consciously make our own decisions.  The major branches are our first strong willed decisions that we made and clung to.  From there, each branch, major and minor, are the subsequent decisions in our lives that stir us toward our final destiny.  Now, from Gods perspective, He is the only one that can see the whole tree in all of its splendor, all branches stretched out to their finest tips.  With each decision we make, He knows where our life will end up.  Each decision eliminates countless other possibilities that will never become, and He can see not only the path that we decided to take, but the paths we will never take as well.  This is how we have free will, countless possibilities and decisions that we get to make.  And still He remains all knowing, He can still count the days and see your path.

Now to the vine, rather than a tree.  I just like the analogy of a vine dresser over a tree trimmer, even though both serve their purpose.

We have several grape vines that run along our back and side fences.  When we first moved in, these vines were everywhere.  They had not been tended to in several years and were an intertwined mess.  They were a mess because vines grow faster and sprout branches even worse than trees.  But unlike a tree, the branches go in all directions, up, down toward the ground, straight out, everywhere.  Without proper care and vine dressing, a vine can become a real mess.  Kind of like us.  When left with too many options, we tend to sprout out in all directions.  If we are vines, then each branch, just like the tree, can symbolize the myriad of choices we make each day (did you know that some vines can grow up to 12 feet over night?) Some are major decisions, some are not so critical.  Thus it is possible for the vintner to stand back and survey the vines before Him and asses the damage that can and will occur, branches growing toward the ground can become rotted and damaging to the entire vine if they are left to grow and touch the dirt.  He can see where you are and with each decision where you will end up and how many days you have left.  In watching your growth and the way you change, He can see where you will bare fruit, what has already born fruit and never will again, and where fruit will never grow.  But, we are not His vines.

He may have planted us and prepared the trellis for us to grow upon, but we are not His.  When He planted you he agreed to let you grow in whatever way you wanted.

The first year we were in our house the grapevines grew very leafy and lush.  Their canopy was thick and green.  Neighbors and friends marveled at what kind of fruit might come from these fine looking vines hanging from our fence lines.  Come that fall, we had plump heavy bushels of grapes.  They tasted ok, we made alot of grape jelly and some grape syrup from them.  The vines were a bit overwhelming though and really tangled.  So I cut them back a little bit in the late fall.

The next year was kind of the same.  We had big plump reds and small little greens.  Both were kind of tasty and the vines were a little less cumbersome.  I left the vines alone and didn't trim them back figuring the thick canopy made for a nice privacy curtain between us and our neighbors.

The third year one of our neighbors was disappointed that I hadn't trimmed back the vines the previous fall because his dogs were eating the grapes on his side of the fence, apparently not such a great thing for dogs to eat.  But the grapes still tasted ok, the reds got a little cob-webby and there weren't as many nice plump clusters.  The greens were tasty, but the branches started growing out into our neighbors yards in not so kindly fashion, so I trimmed them back...a lot.  My wife wondered if I was trying to kill the green vines they were so bare when I was done.

The following year, the green grapes had sweet tasting clusters up and down the fence. And they glowed a rich golden yellow in the afternoon sun.  They were irresistibly sweet.  I don't think any of them made it into jam or jelly, they got eaten before they could get juiced.  The reds still had a thick canopy that draped to the ground.  More jam, jelly, juice and syrup were made.  I trimmed the greens again, left the reds alone for another year (it takes quite a bit of work to really trim them back, so I left them alone)  I spent a little bit more time tying up and supporting the greens as well.  Then I picked up a book on making wine for some winter time reading.

In my reading I learned that thick green canopies actually limit the production and sweetening of the grapes.  Grapes like sun and the leaves take away from the growth of the clusters.  In fact, too many clusters will take away from the growth of other more fruitful clusters.  I began to notice that the vineyards around our area strip back their vines to practically nothing just before or after the winter season.  And they use the trimming period to direct the path and growth of the vine.  I also learned that fruitful branches will never produce fruit again, so it is best to clip them off as well.  Only new branches that didn't fruit in the season, and only branches growing up, not down, are left on the lines and trellis.  Yep, a vintner, the keeper of the vine, does a lot of cutting and trimming at the end of each season, and direct the path and growth of the vine to produce fruit.  Keep in mind, an overabundance of fruit is not the goal.  Too much fruit will spoil the clusters.  And plump juicy grapes are plump and juicy because they are fat with water.  Clusters are picked when they have expelled much of their growing water and the sweet tasting sugary juice remains.

So, the thick lushes looking untended canopy of reds looked great, but they were plump with water and had very little sweetness.  While the greens, well,  the greens made some fine tasting wine this last winter.  Because I trimmed back the green vines and directed their paths, I was able to get very sweet and thick tempting clusters.  Earlier this spring I took the sheers to the red grape vines.  They look very skinny with very few branches, practically none.  Their canopy will not be very thick this summer, and they probably won't get quite as plump and juicy....watery.  But I am looking forward to how much sweeter they should taste this fall.

Back to you and me.  We are wild growing untended and untamed vines, growing in every direction without guidance.  Why?  Because the vintner of life will only trim and tame you if you ask Him.  Only if we beckon Him to come and make our lives fruitful with sweeter fruit than the plump filled water bags we carry around with so much pride and so little substance.  But here's the crux of the invitation, He can see all of us, the entire vine from beginning to end.  He knows which branches will never bare fruit, He can see which ones are heading into the neighbors yard where we don't belong and He can see the branches heading toward the ground where dirt and rot are waiting for us to touch down.  And when we beckon Him to help us bare better fruit, and help us see the son, He doesn't sit back and see what will happen like I did in our first year.  He takes a step toward us as He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his gloves and trimming shears.  And that first year has to be painful, He trims us back to where we are nothing, bare and plain.  But it is at this point that He begins to direct our path, to bend and turn us in the direction in which we should be growing.  You may ask, where does free will fit in now?  Plain and simple, it doesn't!  We ask Him to come into our lives and make it His.  Our life is his now.  And so He looks at the myriad of pathways before Him that represent all the decision we will ever make and begins saying, "You don't get to make that decision anymore...snip!"  And what once was free will becomes a directed path.  As He finds rot and decay, He cuts it out.  A branch will only bare fruit for a season, when that season has past, it will bare fruit no more...snip!  You don't need that branch anymore.

So what about the sweet tasting clusters?  Aw, that is where He takes the fruit from your branches and crafts it into some sweet tasting wine, jam, jelly, syrup, or just eats them straight off the bunch.  Simple matter is, at that point its not ours to decide or wonder.  We just get to glory in knowing that He'll be back with the shears while directing our paths.

So, what's your canopy look like?  What's hiding underneath it that needs to be trimmed away and exposed to the son?  And have you beckoned to Him yet to be you vine dresser, or are you still growing wild and fruitless?

Taking Things Literal: A Lesson in Autism

I was amazed today with a comment a close colleague of mine made today on an observation.  I was relaying to him the story of a rather heated discussion I had with one of our executives.

Let me put in a side note, I have been feeling a bit of anxiety and contention lately.  So much so that this colleague, and others that know me, have begun coming to my desk when they need a good devil's advocate to practice presenting a proposal, or a better understanding of an issue that they are contending...in other words, right now at least, they know I will help them wrestle with their ideas, topic is not an issue.
 
Needless to say, my story about arguing with one of our executives did not surprise my colleague.

Here's the argument in a nutshell.  This executive had asked me how something could be done better, being an engineer, everything can always be done better.  But then this executive asked me to figure out how to fix a problem we are having by giving me instructions on a method he wanted me to investigate and figure out how to implement his method to fix the problem.   A month later (the request was made during a monthly meeting) I reported that there were fundamental obstacles in the way and I was not finding a way to implement his method.  I told him that I did not think implementing his method was possible.  His response was that I should return the following month with more action than having "just thought about it."  I snapped.  I told this executive that his instructions for me were to find a way to implement his method, HOW, not IF it could be implemented.  I was making it clear that he had specifically asked for me to find out HOW to implement his method, not IF it could be implemented.  I then made it clear that I was still struggling with the IF portion of the problem because I was not finding a clear answer to even IF his method was possible let alone, HOW.  Thus my results were incomplete because I was not there to report IF his method could be implemented, I was asked to show HOW his method could be implemented.  Since I had not found a clear resolution to IF it was even possible, I had not and was not prepared to answer HOW.  (I know this is repetitive, but I wanted it to be very clear that I was dissecting his request.)

As I relayed this story to my colleague he began to smile in amazement.  I have told this same colleague stories about the way our son is very literal and how we have to be careful about the way we word things because he will interpret them at face value.  (We once used the "Because I said so" parental phrase for the reason why he couldn't go outside.  He promptly said, "SO" and headed outside.  If saying the word "so" was the key to going out or staying in, then ...)  I have also told him about how we have to be very clear and make certain that our words, face, and body all express the same message or our son will be confused by the overall message conveyed.  My colleague shook his head and said, "Wow, I have listened to the way you argue over the last year.  And it just dawned on me.  You practice this every single day with your son, and you don't even know it.  What a blessing.  You have trained yourselves to dissect a statement in order to make sure that it is very clear and concise, you have trained yourselves to make sure the entire message is clear in your posture, words, tone, facial expression...everything.  You practice this every single day.  What a blessing you have."

This observation opened my eyes to why I may be feeling a bit more contentious lately than I have in the past.  My wife observed that I am by nature, the way God designed me, contentious.  I agree, I like to argue.  I am an engineer and a wrestler, a very contentious combination.  I actually felt it a compliment when my colleague and friend once commented that he appreciated the fact that I would help him argue through issues.  My willingness to argue the opposite side of an issue helps him get a better handle on where the cracks are in his thoughts an proposals, which helps him make a better argument when it really counts.  Anyhow, my son is nearly 11 years old, he is fighting for a little more independence, just as any typical child of his age does.  But my son is not typical, he is autistic.  Which means that I am having to contend with him in his literal world of "what happens if I...?" even more than normal.  Which happens to sharpen that edge even more than a typical parent.  Unfortunately for the executive above and some of my other co-workers, it also means that I am quick to dissect and contend with them as well. 

I found it interesting that my colleague would find this to be a blessing.  In essence, he envies that I can argue a point so clearly and concisely.  But I sense that I am growing weary of it, and yet I have so many more teen years to go of sharpening the edge to such fineness.  Anyone else out there ever experience the same thing?

Health Reform Bill

I don't like it.  Have a tough time accepting it.  And fear the precedence it and the process by which it was created and passed has set for what is to come.  President Obama and his party have just proved that nothing can stand in their way of passing any kind of legislation they want to pass.  Republicans should simply go home, for the party of "We won, you lost, get over it" has just proven that any debate is no debate.  Anything passed by the majority party in the next few months has the legs to last for at least the next three years.  It is a good wager to guess that such a majority will not be held by another party come November, without such a majority legislation not found in favor of Obama and his party is doomed to die by veto, regardless of its merits.  By the end of three years we as a nation will become addicted to whatever scraps the legislature chooses to hand to us and eliminating country killing legislation will not be possible.  This nation has realized that its vote can be purchased by the candidate that offers them the most government handouts.  But what happens when there are more people living on handouts than there are people that can afford to provide the means by which the government affords the handouts?

What really gets me on health care reform?  The writing is on the wall.  The legislation does not have to directly take control of health care in order to eventually do so.  Insurance companies must comply to the national standard established under this legislation.  If they do not or cannot comply to the national standard then they cannot offer an insurance product.  If you are carrying a health insurance policy that gets eliminated because your carrier cannot afford the burden of the national standard, then you need to find a new carrier.  Since carriers cannot deny you coverage, the burden will become heavier on the firms that survive, until the Federal Government changes the standard.  Once all carriers are overwhelmed by the national standard it will be obvious that only the Federal Government itself is able to meet the national standard, especially since it rights the rules.  The burden of this legislation will have us begging for what was so heavily debated and left out of this legislation, nationalized health care.  Until then, one of the requirements of the national standard right now is that carriers must provide coverage for immunizations.  This is a misguided step that will soon prove itself out, it assumes that parents are avoiding immunizations because of the cost.  Once this is proven untrue, then the national standard can be changed to make carriers more proactive at strongly encouraging their clients to immunize or else.  Or else can result in a rightful and just dropping of coverage.  At which point, if you do not acquire new insurance coverage, then you can be fined when you file your taxes for failing to prove that you have health insurance.  Once again, enter stage left, the national option.  But you must comply to the national standard to qualify for the national option coverage.  No compliance, then you cannot prove you are covered and must pay a fine each year when you file your taxes.

Now, I use immunizations as an example because I am familiar with this issue, but what is to stop this legislation from affecting any area of choice?