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?

Equally Yoked

You might have to go back and read "I Am an Ox" to get some of this.
http://haslemhome.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-am-ox.html

I am awake rather early this Sunday morning.  Awake and can't sleep because I have some thoughts spinning around in my head that I can't seem to shake.  Honestly, this is an opportunity ( the chance and reason to sit down and write something new and old) I have been praying and waiting for, just wondering why God would wake me this early in the morning, and not let me sleep.  Yet, I am awake none the less. So...

Quite a few relationships, especially the guy/girl kind within the Christian world, are measured against the principal of equally yoked.  "You two shouldn't be dating, you're not equally yoked..." generally means that one of the two primary people in the relationship are not Christian, or not walking a very straight Christian life.  When we see such a relationship transpiring, we Christians like to toss in our two cents and piece of advice.  Yet, I often feel that the words of wisdom are given without ever having questioned "Why?" and "Why is it there?" In other words, "Why would God give us a principal such as, equally yoked? and how does it apply in my life?"  ( My son's favorite question is, "Why not, what happens if I....?")  I personally feel, if we can find the answer to this question, and we understand the consequences involved, then we at least know what we were getting into when we chose to violate a principal God has placed before us.  And I also like the Ox analogy, there is so much buried within it that we can find and apply to understanding our own lives.

So, equally yoked...

First, lets take a look back at a yoke, its purpose, and how it applies to our lives.  A yoke is used to direct a beast of burden.  More specifically, it controls the head by weighing down the neck.  A very powerful and stubborn animal can be easily directed with slight tugs and pulls to the reigns that are attached to a yoke.  And believe me, we are very powerful and stubborn animals.  We humans are probably the smartest idiots and most stubborn and willing creatures.  If a yoke is used to direct an animals path, what is our yoke?  What is used to direct our path?  Keep in mind, we ARE beasts of burden, we don't get to decide if we are yoked or not.  Just, who's yoke will we carry, who is pulling at our reigns?  And the simple truth of the matter is, there are only two masters in this world.  Who's yoke are you carrying?  The answer is simple to find.  What motivates your actions and attitudes?  "Only three things remain, faith, hope, and love.  And the greatest of these is love."  If you don't recognize this phrase, and if you don't understand its meaning, I can tell you who your master is.  I can't tell you what your yoke is, because that master has a wide variety of yokes to weigh us down and direct our path.  If you do recognize this phrase, and you understand it meaning, then I can tell you who your master is as well.  And I can tell you what your yoke is...its LOVE.  Love motivates your actions, and is used to help direct your path. ( side note: "He will make your path straight...and he shall direct your path...all common phrases.  Apply them to being an Ox with a yoke, and your path becomes the furrows of a field.  Are your furrows straight and narrow and directed by Him?)

If our yoke is love, then what are all of these other burdens that we think we carry each and every day?  For an ox, the yoke is not what makes his work difficult.  It is not what he labors against.  It is the conditions of the field that makes things easy or hard.  A field full of rocks and roots and deep set clay will make pulling a plow very laborious and difficult to tread through.  Holes and hard stumps can make us turn an ankle or stumble and fall.  A good master walks before his animals, clearing out rocks and debris, stopping them when a stump is in the way, and helping them pull when the soil becomes hard to pull thru.  A not so kind master will become angered and forceful when their animal stumbles or falls and will drive animals into the ground before they will lend a hand.

So, if our yoke is love, and the difficulties and joys of life are the conditions of the soil in our field.  What is our field?  And that one is easy, Life.  Imagine that each furrow you make is a day in you life.  Got a boss that is hard to work with?  That's a root in the ground that you will come across each and every day, but take heart, roots don't last forever.  A day will come when the furrow you are plowing won't hit that root any more.  And also take heart that God knew that root was there, He planted the tree that put it there.  Even if your not carrying His yoke, He still planted the tree that put it there, and He knew you would come across it. Experiencing a time of joy and ease?  Thats some nice fresh soil that is sweet and soft and easy to plow.  It can be found in almost any field, reserve your strength and enjoy the patch.  Gain strength in it, because, just as the root won't last forever, easy soil is only for a time as well.  And yes, God knew you would come across it also.  He went before you and picked out the rocks, pulled the weeds, watered it a little, and broke up the crusted top. He knew you would need it.  And yes, He did this for you even if it is not His yoke you are carrying.

So, if life is the field we plow, joy and sorrow are the conditions of the soil, what does it mean to be equally yoked, and why is it important?  Once again, the answer to these questions will prepare us for what is to come.  At least we know what we are getting into.  First and foremost, if we are equally yoked, then we have the same master.  If Christ is our master, then He has only one type of yoke.  If Christ is not our master, then it is possible that we can be given the same type of yoke. (Though chances of this are slim) This makes plowing a field a whole lot easier.  Can you imagine a team of oxen plowing a field where two separate masters are directing the path.  One ox has a kind gentle master directing its path, making it straight and preparing the way before it.  While the other ox has a slave driver, screaming and demanding compliance.  The first ox will begin to feel the weight of its team mate as the second ox begins to slow and drag under the burden of its yoke and master.  The rest of the field will become very difficult regardless of the soil conditions, and the first ox will have to work much harder to finish row after row.  While the second ox will begin to falter under the weight of its yoke and the relentless drive of its master.  Even though the second ox may pride itself in the amount of weight it is capable of barring, it will see the lite and easy burden of the first ox and begin to feel jealous, and begin to tire.  Both are points of friction that can cause damage.  The first ox may feel strained and tired by having to not only pull the plow thru a field, but may also feel the burden of pulling its partner thru the field as well.  The second ox may become strained and tired of the burden it has to bare along with the plowing and the driving master.  Both become tired before the field is finished.

Now there is a second principal in the understanding of being equally yoked.  The yoke is one means of balancing out a team of oxen.  But the size and strength of the oxen being joined is another means of balancing out a team.  Imagine a strong mature ox and a young immature ox being joined together.  The older ox may tire early from having to carry the load of the weaker ox.  The weaker ox may tire early from trying to keep up with the stronger one.  And yet, both oxen can have the same master and the same type of yoke, but still be unequally yoked.  Once again, this can lead to a condition where both oxen tire early from trying counter the imbalance.  And yet, in both conditions the field must still be plowed.

(side note: how can two people share the same field if the field is "my" life?  Remember, once two lives are joined together, they become one life.  "And the two shall become one."  The joys and sorrows experienced by one are shared with the other.  This is also why trying to make two fields out of what has become one field is very very difficult.  How do you do it?) 

And now the daunting condition.  Unlike oxen in a pen, we get to choose if and with whom we become teamed up with.  Our master may present to us partners that are best candidates, but we still get to choose.  Does your partner and mate have another master, and now you are beginning to tire because your partner is exasperated?  You chose them, of all that were presented to you, you picked one from another pen.  If Christ is your master, then he is still with you, walking before you, preparing the way and directing your path, and he will even help you pull the plow.  But He can't direct the path of your partner.  At the end of each furrow and during the row, He might step over and give them a rub, and a quiet whisper, but He isn't pulling on their reigns...yet.  Is your partner stronger and more mature, and you are struggling to keep up?  Are you the stronger one and now you feel that you are pulling more than your mate?  You knew what you were getting into before you picked them, or you chose not to measure them up and see how equal they were.  Either way, you are now a team, your fields have been formed into one.

Not a team yet, but wondering if you want to be?  Do you share the same master?  Are your yokes of equal size and weight, are you of an equal size and weight to each other (this has little or nothing to do with physical size and weight.  How equal are you in human and spiritual maturity?)  If all things be equal and you enjoy each others company, then plowing your field will be easier.  If there is an imbalance, just know, plowing a field is already labor intensive, even when Christ is your master and love is your yoke.  Don't think for one second that having an imbalance will make things easier.  But the real question is, are you prepared to work even harder?  And don't forget, when that day comes, you were asked this question and said, " yes."

(side note: Though I can't see all of the rows I have plowed in my life, the fun part is knowing that my master was dropping seeds into them as we plowed the next one.  Over time, those seeds have started to grow.  Sometimes I get to munch on the fruit that grows from the plants of those seeds.  Most of the time, I can't see very far beyond the wall of plants growing a few rows over. But its nice to know that something is growing in the rows I, and for sometime now...we, got to help plow.)

What God does for good

I have a story to tell. It goes backwards and forwards and drapes all over the place, and to me, it is incredible.

This story is triggered by an occurrence that happened today and many years ago. Today, I sent off an e-mail of congratulations to a supplier who's "out of office" auto reply had declared that she was not in the office due to maternity leave. I hadn't known she was expecting so I thought I would leave her a note to come back to the office to, "Maternity Leave? I had no idea! congrats!"

A little over a half hour later I got a reply from her that I had not anticipated. Apparently she had forgotten that she had turned on the auto reply at her office. More importantly she had forgotten what she had put in her auto reply.... Her son had complications at birth and lived for 3 days before God called him back home. That was back in August, she had yet to return to work and my e-mail was the first note she had gotten in awhile by someone not knowing the end of the little guys story.

If we stop a story like this right now, stop reading, stop listening, stop anticipating how God works for the good in all who love Him, then we miss so much of the story.

Many years ago, my wife and I sat before a Dr. who told us that we had better chances of winning the lottery than we had at having a child. This was after my wife had miscarried, tubal pregnancy that diminished our chances. Along with various other complications, the Dr. was spot on, our chances of winning the lottery were better than having a child, and we don't play. But the Dr. wasn't aware of something that we weren't aware of either, the author of our story wasn't and isn't done writing.

After absorbing the blow of such news, my wife and I looked into adoption. I'll tell that story some other day, this isn't an adoption story. This is a chain of events that you can't predict and will never see coming story.

Follow along, roughly the same time that doctor was telling us the likely hood of us having kids were slim to none, a troubled woman was making a decision she would pay heavy consequences for later on. While a doctor was telling us no chance, this woman was telling another man, other than her husband, that he would get a chance. While a doctor was telling us the odds of planting a seed, one was being planted in someone else.

Wise counsel interceded in the woman's life and told her that her best chances of healing her marriage were to not have a reminder of her infidelity crawling around. God interceded and told her that aborting the child within her was out of the question. God interceded in our lives and told us, "you are not my own but I adopted you into my family, now, I have another for you to adopt." The guiding hand of God brought a troubled woman trying to heal her marriage and an empty armed couple together. And our oldest son was born and became the first child in our family.

Here is where I jump off the page a little and go to another thought, but don't worry, I'll get back to this story, because it is all one big story anyways.

Last weekend I took my oldest son to the Nike Youth Sports Day event at the Nike Campus. It is a day dedicated to children and adults that are rather unique in the way God created them. My son got to participate in the swimming event. Yep, he got to swim in the Nike soft-water-open-your-eyes-under-the-water-because-its-so-clean-I-wonder-if-Michael-Phelps-swam-in-here pool. The south side of the pool is floor to ceiling glass walls that reveal one of the campus lawns. Very green fields where employees and others play and practice their soccer and running skills while developing the next best thing. This day the lawn was covered with over a hundred participants trying their hand, foot, and head, at soccer drills and lawn bowling. As I sat in the balcony of the aquatics center I couldn't help but take in the view of both the pool and all of its participants, the field, and then what I couldn't see going on over at the running track and indoor/outdoor basketball courts. (Yep, all events going on that day, a couple hundred participants in all) I couldn't help but be touched by a thought from the Lord. Every single one of those participants, staff, volunteers, were individually created, designed, by Him. Every single one of them. That means that each of the individual participants were purposefully created by Him to be what and who they are, every single one of them. Have you got the point that I am trying to say every single one of them. Each individual person that walks this earth was not randomly thrown together in a people factory in heaven, but individually and pain stakingly scrutinized and put together by the master artist and creator himself.

Another digression. I am going to admit something that will elicit more than one negative reaction, I like Harry Potter. There, I said it, I feel so relieved. The part that amazes me is how intricate and creative the author is. She has created a world and set of characters that have captured the eyes and minds of many readers. She has woven a tale that is deep and broad and very magical. (Yep that was put there on purpose) Ms. Rowlings has created a great set of novels over the past few years. I got hooked on her novels over semester breaks while going thru school. Her books could pull me from between the towers of boxes at the JC Penney warehouse for an hour each night, and push me into the halls of Hogwarts... Ok, I also like Ted Dekker, another incredibly intricate writer that weaves tales thru many of his books and into others. Both authors have created worlds and tales that envelope their readers. And this only in the course of a few years, maybe a decade. Whatever the timeframe, it is minor in comparison to the timeclock of eternity.

Regression, back to Nike. If two authors can create a cast of characters and new worlds of magic and mystery in the short time of a few years, imagine what the creator of the universe can weave together in the timeframe of eternity. Can you imagine the cast and plot upon plot? This is the thought that God stroked into my story as I stood there watching my son swim and others bobb around in the pool. Too many people look at that gathering on the Nike campus as the culmination of genetic randomness run amuck. I saw it as a gathering of some of the most incredible creations God could intricately craft together and unveil at the precise exact moment He wished for them to come onto the scene. See, its not the color or lack there of that makes an incredible masterpiece, its the way those colors are put together. Its not the notes that make a symphony, but the way they are combined to form a crescendo of sound and harmony that makes them incredible. We are God's masterpiece, each and every one of us is a precisely planned stroke, perfectly picked note, and exact set of words that He wants in his story. This is what we are.

Now, what author worth reading would create a cast of characters and not have a story for them to be inserted into? The author of our story is no different. A troubled woman made a decision, a troubled couple sought solace, and a child was born. And two families were brought together by an author who knows the whole play line by line. Had we stopped the story at the bad decision we would all have to ask, what is God thinking, why does He allow this? If we stopped at the news of the impossible we would have to ask, how could God do such a thing? But we keep reading, in anticipation that He has a bigger story to tell.

When our son was nine months old, we won the lottery. No we are not one of the rich and wealthy that got lucky trying our hand at such things. We have yet to buy a ticket. Nope, I was called up to the front atrium of the warehouse one afternoon to hear my wife tell me, "guess what?" And son number two entered stage left. He was nine months old when our luck struck again, "guess what?" And our daughter entered the scene stage right. During this time, unbeknownst to me, my supervisor at the warehouse was struggling with her news. One of those chances of winning the lottery announcements. Sometimes its hard to turn the page when that news hits. She knew of our plight to adopt after having received similar news. I didn't quite understand her reaction when I showed her the picture of the sonogram of the second baby (first to be born) in my wife's tummy. It wasn't until later when my wife bumped into her at a hospital that we came to understand that her knowing our story encouraged her thru the news in her story. (She now has two of her own.) Once again, had we stopped reading, we would have had to say hurray!, followed by another, "really God, really?why?" But we read on.

When our oldest was not quite three, another doctor told us that he was autistic. Is this where we stop reading? Or is this the part where the plot starts to thicken and things really start to get interesting? Up to this point my wife and I joked that the child that was supposed to be a mixed race baby that no one wanted ended up being a perfect blue eyed handsome little boy. Perfect. Was now autistic. How did our perfect little bundle become autistic? And I was troubled, God asked me, "I created him just for you, every stroke of hair and blush of his cheeks are for you, how is he anything less than perfect now that you know that he is a unique creation inspired after a millenia of thought and contemplation? You are right, he is not perfect, he is more than perfect. He is mine. Now take good care of each of them for they are all mine. And I am trusting you to show him my love until he is able to see it himself."

Right now, the supplier contact I spoke of earlier is wondering, really? Really God? why? why God? And her heart might want to close the book. You may have a similar story, and are also asking, really God? How could you? And all I can say is, don't stop reading, not yet, you haven't got to the good part, it's going to knock your socks off its so good. You see, the passage doesn't say that God only makes good things, it says that he makes all things good.

He penned together the story of a woman with child to add flavor to ours. He penned our story together to add encouragement to another. He added autism to my sons story to add a touch of grace and flavor and life to so many other stories. What is he writing in your story right now? Is it the end of a page, the end of a chapter, the end of the first book, or nearing the end of a series? Do you really know the answer to that question or will you let Him decide when its your turn to meet the author live and in person? Until then, every word, every stroke, every detail is on purpose.

A Special Night at the Zoo

Last night was a night set aside for families throughout the Portland area to visit the Oregon Zoo for free. My middle son Noah anticipated the night for almost two weeks, ever since we got the invitation in the mail. The regular parking lot at the zoo was so packed that they had to have a shuttle running every 5 minutes from a nearby Nazarene Church parking lot 2 miles away.

One special point about this one free night is that its, well, at night. In the evening at least. normally the zoo closes around 5pm, so the crew can get out and get all of the animals fed. But last night the zoo opened up from 4-8pm. And the train and special exhibits were also free. They had large size animals that the kids could run up and hug and take pictures with as well. Plus a soda and bag of popcorn for everyone in the family, free as well. (We didn't get the popcorn and soda because Ti can't have either and we didn't want to leave him out.. It was after all his night) Oh yah, the most important part of the night is that all families in attendance had to have a child with...special needs. The way the zoo crew sees it, trying to get around the home and life are hard enough, the zoo should be a fun place to be.

The cool part about going to the zoo in the evening is that all of the animals start to wake up and come alive around that time. Its feeding time, the weather cools down, and they just got up from a good afternoon nap and are ready to play.

Early on in the stroll around the grounds I leaned in to my wife's ear and commented, "remember, every single one of these families has a child with special needs. They are all used to a child freaking out. So... we can lay off of Ti tonight and let him be amongst HIS peers." As silly as this may sound, it was really quite a releif to comprehend.

As we wandered into a cave where the penguins and sea lions can be seen from underwater, a rather large child wiggled his way out of his parents hands and went running up a ramp squealing. In any other setting the mother of the child would have been frustrated and slightly embarrased, yep, that was her kid, running off, freaking out, nothing normal about him. But on this particular night, she started screaming, "stop him, please, stop him!" Thing was, there were another five families coming down the ramp that knew exactly how this gal felt, and stepped in the way. He didn't get too far this night.

The line for the train was about 45 minutes. It was the typical attraction line, winding back and forth upon itself between fence posts and canvas strapping. The zoo has 3 trains that run in succession every 15 minutes. Each train holds roughly 80 to 100 people. I enjoyed the train ride, the scenery and all were ok, overgrown lush ferns covering the ground was the typical view for most of the ride. But I enjoyed the ride because my youngest, Lucas, took the time to nestle his head in the bend of my draping arm so he could stick it out the window and feel the gentle rushing wind wisk by his face. It was a quiet restful peace that is so fleeting in the time we have.

Since Ti can't have the regular faring at the zoo for snacking,...popcorn, soda, caramel apples, and the like...we packed a sack dinner. After strolling through the animal cages and riding one of the zoo trains, we were hungry. We wandered our way to a sprawling grassy amphitheater where they have special shows. We claimed one of the deep and wide stair steps as our picnic bench and sat down to enjoyed the breeze with sandwiches and chips.

As my family sat there munching away, I took the moment to look around at all of the families that were there enjoying the evening. So many families, so many people, all there at the zoo enjoying the evening because at least one of their children was something other than normal. Downs, Blind, deaf, armless, legless, limbless, autistic, ...and the list goes on. I couldn't help but think of the time in the Bible when the disciples asked Jesus, "who sinned, this man or his parents? That he should end up this way..." The event didn't come to me because of what the disciples thought, but because of what our Lord said and did in response. Here on the grassy knoll and strolling the grounds were hundreds of families smiling and laughing and showing excitement in such pure true honest enjoyment, because of a child in their life that doesn't fit the mold. "Neither, this man is here that the works of God might be displayed in his life." This man is here because God....not a mistake, not broken, not wrong, not.....but because God made him.

On the way back to the parking lot on the shuttle Karen struck up a conversation with another mom. Ciciley actually struck up the conversation, she wanted to know if the lady's son was autism. "Yes, he is." Karen carried on from there. The son was the youngest in the family, going on 11. The mom mentioned that she had 2 teenage daughters as well. She shared a quick note about how a teacher recently complimented the tender hearts and maturity of her daughters. And how her family was so impacted by the fact that the youngest was "on the spectrum." She acknowledged that her daughters would not be the way they are if their son was not part of the picture. Karen pointed at our two middle kiddos and said," I know!."

Well....its late...and I have to get to bed, but I'm not done with this one yet...my mind is still working it over a little. But I what I really want to say is, God doesn't make mistakes, none, nadda, zilch, zero, never, never has, never will, is completely and totally incapable of screwing up, even just a little. This is fundimental and needs to be completely understood. Once it is fully embraced, ...every single one of those families at the zoo last night, including my own, are part of our Lord God's mighty and awesome plan, even and especially the ones who gave them a reason to be there last night. So, since it is impossible for God to make a mistake, and everything he does is on purpose, why did he decide to create these special children? I have some ideas, how about you?