APRIL, 2016

A CONGO RESCUE

This isn’t a story about being rescued from an African jungle but rather from a scary ski slope on Andesite Mountain in Big Sky, Montana.  It was lightly snowing as my husband, daughter, son-in-law and their boys cruised down Ponderosa, my grandsons choosing to negotiate  the short pines growing along the right perimeter of the slope.  It had been the perfect ski day so far, just enough fresh snow to make the run fun but not so much that our thighs complained by the time we got to the bottom of the hill.  We rode the quad lift to the top of the mountain and looked down at the village below.  A potty break was needed by some so the decision to change directions and head down to the village was agreed upon by all.  

We headed down a catwalk to where several appropriate runs could be found.  My husband and daughter headed toward Hangman, an intermediate run.  I heard my grandsons, 12 year old Soren and 10 year old Kai, calling from behind me, “Follow us, Pammy, (my grandma name.)  We’ll show you a shortcut.”  

Why not,  I thought, so off I went following behind the boys.  It didn’t take  many seconds for me to realize I was headed down a mogul slope interspersed with tall pine trees.  I never took “Skiing Moguls 101”  when I learned to ski and as I began to pick my way down the hill I wondered if I was about to break a leg flying off a mogul or smash my head on a tree that refused to move out of the way.  As I had these thoughts spinning in my head, one of the boys flew by me hollering, “Isn’t this fun!!”  I was not feeling the fun.  

I was exhausted by now and unsure of my ability to get down in one piece.  Wanting to give up, I stopped and began taking off my skis, convinced that walking down the mountain was easier than falling  down it.  I took one ski off and heard a voice from below me calling,  “Don’t take off your skis, Pammy.  It won’t be easier that way!  Put them on and follow me.  You’re doing fine.”

Looking down hill I saw my son-in-law, Andy, waiting to rescue me from this crazy situation.  He patiently waited as I took what seemed to be at least ten minutes to get my ski back on.  That’s a real task on a snowy, steep bank full of moguls.  

“Just follow me.  We’ll go this way and take a wide turn here and then there and get down to that groomed area,” Andy said.  He moved slowly enough for me to follow his path until I reached the comfort of the groomed trail.  A huge feeling of relief came over me.  At that moment Andy was my favorite son-in-law!

This is how my life goes from time to time, I’m too anxious to stop and ask for help from someone wiser then myself.  We have laughed about the Congo rescue.  “Put your skis back on, Pammy,”  has become a catch phrase in the family to mean “don’t give up!” 

Life is full of “Congo Rescue”  moments.  I am reminded of Psalm 46:1, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  My dilemma on the ski hill is a trivial example of need, but, in trivial or serious life experiences God is our strength and help if we are listening for Him just as Andy was there to advise and direct me in my time of trouble.  We need not give up with God on our side, we need only to listen for Him on our daily walk in life.

LENT 

The season of Lent consumes most of the month of March this year.  Lent is the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday.  For Christians this is a time to simplify their lives, to focus on prayer, fasting, acts of service and other methods of growing closer to God.  Some of us may give up something we enjoy for the season of lent, perhaps a favorite food (chocolate,? coffee?) meat on Friday, or a favorite pastime, to focus on Christ’s sacrifice for our sake and to repent for our distraction by worldly pleasures.  If we’re really serious we may consider giving up one of our devices, such as our cell phone.  That would be a huge sacrifice but certainly would leave more time for quiet  contemplation.  The point is to find more time to read the Bible, pray and grow in our walk with God.

When we were in Ireland last summer my family and I took a boat tour out to Skelig Michael, a pyramid island seven miles off the coast of the Kerry Peninsula.   This slate-and-sandstone rock is 700 feet high, one mile in circumference  and hosts no vegetation other than small  areas of grass in crevices between the rocks.  It was here, in the sixth-century, that Christian monks came to live the simplest of lives in order to be closer to God.  They left all the conveniences of civilization  which could have distract them from their goal.  They constructed simple stone, beehive shaped structures to shelter themselves.  They ate mostly fish, birds, and bird eggs and small amounts of plant life that could be grown on the meager land.  They traded bird eggs and feathers with passing vessels for candles, grain and hides for clothing and copying scripture.  Neither Viking attacks nor winter storms could chase them from their remote monastery for it was here that they could grow in their knowledge of God.  

It is almost impossible to imagine surviving in such conditions today.  However, this extreme lifestyle can be an encouragement to us as we strive to give up even the simplest of conveniences for lent.  We have too many excuses for delaying that moment when we really “look” at Jesus and see the anguish on his face as he prayed and the sadness in his voice when he said, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”  It’s uncomfortable to imagine the events of Holly Week as Jesus’ friends turned their backs on him as he was ridiculed by the leaders of the day and the crowds in the streets.  Like many Christians I find it too easy to hide behind the busyness of the Easter season, dying eggs, hiding baskets, and talking about the coming of spring.  However, I am humbled by the story of Skelig Michael’s monks.  I wanted to share their story with you so you, too, could see the contrast between their walk with God and our hectic lives.  I don’t want to live as they did on Skelig Michael but I do want to find a quiet place to meet with God on a regular basis to grow in my walk with Him.  I hope my story will encourage you to do that too.

BELATED BLESSINGS 

Thank goodness for belated gifts.  This year, the timing was perfect.  My birthday falls near Thanksgiving, the time of year when holiday pressure begins to mount.  Adding to the tension there was so much unfriendly, election year political banter, international terrorist attacks, and funerals and illnesses for several special friends.  I found myself feeling anxious and out of control at times.  My prayers became long lists of requests.

On Christmas Eve I received a belated birthday gift, “One Thousand Gifts,” by Ann Voskamp.  My first thought was, “What?  I don’t have time to sit down and read right now!”  But I did make time to get it started and I’m so glad I did.  This book may be a vehicle for finding a fuller, more positive Christian life.

Ann Voskamp begins her book with her childhood story.  Without giving it away, I’ll just say it is a depressing story.  I was ready to put the book down.  I didn’t need a depressing story.  However, in her subsequent search for a full, happy Christian life she discovered that giving thanks for even small things that delighted her, moved her, or caught her eye, helped her see God’s love in her life. Jesus modeled this many times in the Bible, even as He gave thanks for the bread and cup at the Last Supper in spite of his impending death on the cross.  Writing the blessings down each day, naming them, helped her remember them.  She could return to them in her difficult moments.  Looking for blessings made her slow her life down and live in the moment, appreciating the blessings God brought to her life.  She didn’t intend to be naive about current events but as she embraced God’s blessings she felt loved by God and she was able to be a messenger of God’s love to others.  Ann’s life began to feel full and blessed.

I’m still reading the book so there is more to learn but I want to move in this direction.  I was challenged on Face Book, in the past, to do something similar for three weeks.  I loved it and told myself I would continue until it became a habit.  I had good intentions but I fell short.

Then I received my second belated gift, a Christmas gift of two colorful journals and two pencils.  Now I have confirmation that I should begin my list of God’s blessings.  Valentine’s season seems like an appropriate time to recognize and receive God’s love and to gift God’s love to others.  I will begin by naming the blessings in my daily life.  You and your children are on that list.  I thank God for all of you!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The Shepherds Story 

The moment Halloween is over it seems all the world begins to scurry about making preparations for Christmas.  Never mind Thanksgiving.  That gets lost in the shuffle.  If we put a few colored leaves in the pot of pine branches on the front steps that will have to do.  It’s all about decking the halls for the arrival of ……..Santa? ……..Jesus?  Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

For most of us, our Christmas season is orchestrated  down to the last song to be sung and dessert to be eaten.  We adults try to control the social calendar.  There is not time for spontaneity .  Music, shopping, baking, decorating, and entertaining must be done.  The Christmas pageant must be rehearsed and presented to the “oohhs" and “ahhhas" of the audience.  By Christmas night we are thrilled but exhausted. 

Now, flash back to the first Christmas night.  It had been an ordinary day.  Mary and Joseph had been on the road all day….again.  It was difficult to find a place to stay in the bustling town of Bethlehem.  There were many families returning to this town, home of their ancestors, to be counted in the census.  The innkeeper was busy boarding and feeding his clients.  In the stable, the animals were bedding down for the night. Out in the fields, shepherds were quietly watching their flocks.  

Imagine the flood of emotions that jolted the shepherds to attention when an angel appeared to them.  “Fear not,”  she said, for surely that is the first emotion that overwhelmed them.  Awe may have come next as a  “flash mob” of angels suddenly appeared in the heavens, praising God and saying, 

Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth, peace good will to men.  

As if this heavenly chorus was not enough, the angel told them that a Saviour, God’s son, had been born.  They could find him wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.  Could that be true?  They left the fields and went to Bethlehem in search of the child.  Surely doubt must have filled their minds only to be replaced by joy when they found the child, exactly as the angel had described it!

The shepherds couldn’t wait to tell others what they had experienced.  We, too, know the feeling of wanting to be the first to tell.  Spreading the news, others were astonished.  Finally, the shepherds returned to the stable praising God for all they had heard and seen!

That is an amazing story.  As fun and blessed as our Christmases are, none can be more emotional then the day Jesus was born.  Fear, awe, doubt, joy, excitement, and praise enveloped the shepherds all in one day.  By Christmas night they (like all of us today) were thrilled and exhausted!  For them it was for all the right reasons.  Let’s make our Christmas more like theirs this year, with less personal control and more time to be surprised by the birth of God’s son!

The Thanksgiving Rock 

My fascination with rocks began when I was in elementary school.  My friend and I would walk the mile home from school searching the roadsides and empty fields for pretty rocks.  We filled our pockets and small paper bags with these treasures and plotted where we would hide them for later recovery.  Unfortunately, we buried some of them in fields that were scheduled for new home excavation.  We lost many precious treasures that way!  My interest didn’t wane as I grew older.  During our family camping trips I spent hours combing rocky beaches on Lake Superior looking for agates.  In Rocky Mountain State Park and in camp grounds along the way I found interesting specimens to take home.  When my parents moved out of their home into an apartment I found some beautiful rocks my dad had stashed in the garden near the raspberry bushes. ( I guess I come by this rock collecting thing naturally.)  I adopted them for my garden.  

This summer my husband and I traveled to Ireland with some of our family.  Once again I was captivated by rocks I  found along the trails we hiked.  I took pictures of some of them.  When I snuck a couple in my suitcase to bring home I was the laughing stock of the family for a day or two.  I get it.  There are classier things to bring home as souvenirs.  All this got me wondering why rocks are special, not just to me, but to many people.  Admit it.  You have collected a rock from a significant place sometime in your life.  My interest was justified when Wayne Roosa, Professor of Art History from Bethel University, explained that rocks have been used for centuries to mark significant places.  For example, in the Old Testament, they marked places where they felt God, creator of the vast universe, made a connection with man, as small and insignificant as he was.  Some of these were single stones set on end.  Others were more elaborate alters made for worship.  The rocks I brought home from Ireland were from our hike up Croagh Patrick, a 2,500 foot mountain. In the fifth century, St. Patrick, it is said, fasted at the mountain summit for the 40 days of Lent.  It is now a sacred pilgrimage for thousands of people each year.  I am not thinking my rocks are sacred but they do remind me of this very beautiful and  sacred place that I was fortunate enough to visit.

The onset of the Thanksgiving season made me wonder if our country has any stone monument that can be considered a significant place, where the veil between God and man became thin. I recalled an East Coast vacation with a visit to Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts.  My mother-in-law, also a teacher, and I insisted on making this stop there, in spite of pouring rain.  We found the rock housed on the beach under a gazebo type structure.  To our amazement, it was a medium size, very ordinary looking rock, nothing like I imagined as a child hearing the  story of the Pilgrims’ journey, stepping off the Mayflower onto Plymouth Rock.  Perhaps, however, this ordinary stone has become infamous because it marks the place where persecuted Christians found a new world where they could worship as they pleased.  God met them there, they felt his presence and marked the spot with a stone.  Their hearts were filled with thanksgiving for God’s immense blessings.  Their three day celebration the following year became our example for pausing each fall to give thanks for food, family, friends and faith.  Our Thanksgiving traditions become our virtual pilgrimage to this rock monument recalling God’s presence in our lives and the blessing it is to worship as we please.  

Have a blessed Thanksgiving!

October 2015

There he stood by the picnic table, all 38 inches of his three year old body, waving the garden hose from side to side and over his head.  The spray from the hose scattered in many directions as he dramatically sang,  “Let it go, let it go…….”  For the moment, my grandson felt he had the powers, just like Elsa in the movie, FROZEN.  For months now, he has spent part of most days playing “Anna and Elsa,”  pretending to control weather and people with the wave of an arm.  He is Elsa, I am Anna.  He pushes me away when I come toward the picnic table, just as Elsa pushes Anna away in the movie so as not to hurt Anna with her powers.  

“Go away!”  he yells.  “ I don’t want to hurt you.”

Having powers  is exciting.  Creating what you want or doing anything you want to do makes you seem important.  It sets you apart from others.  People may envy you.  However, it doesn’t always make you happy.  Even my three year old grandson recognizes that.  There is something missing in Elsa’s life.  She is sad because she can’t reverse the damage she accidentally caused with her powers.  Now she lives alone where she can use her powers without restriction but there is no one there to nurture.

Aren’t we all like Elsa sometimes?  It would feel so great to just “let it go” and do anything we want without taking others into consideration.  If we could just go off by ourselves, who would care about what we were doing, what we looked like or what we were saying.  We wouldn’t know how many hearts we had “frozen.”  Being considerate of others is so much work.  Apologizing for mistakes we make is so humiliating.  Staying “uninvolved” would be so much easier…..until we began to feel lonely.  

Just like Elsa, we would eventually realize we need other people.  We have love in our hearts and we need to share it.  We don’t need to be afraid to show it even if we make an occasional  mistake.  Like Elsa, we will discover that “only an act of true love can melt a frozen heart.”  Love is what brings life back to our environment, our communities and our hearts.  That source of love doesn’t come from the wave of one’s arm.  It is a gift from God.  We all have the gift, not just a select few.  Let’s bring happiness back to our world. 

Playing “Elsa and Anna”  with my grandson always ends with hugs and giggles as it should.  If only life was always that easy! 

 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 and 13

4Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud 5or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 6It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 7Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance…….

13Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.

SARAH’S PRAYER

One of my favorite Minnesota composer/song writers is Doug Wood.  I met him at an environmental education conference several years ago where he was the keynote speaker and entertainer.  As you might guess, the theme of many of his songs is the environment, Minnesota’s in particular.  However, one of my favorite songs of his is “Sarah’s Prayer.”  I would like to share it with you.  It is my prayer for each of you and your children as they grow and thrive in this world.

May your spirit be a free and gentle bird

May honesty and light guide every word.

May your thoughts stroll from the heavens to the sea

May the stars reveal their ancient harmony.

May your clouds be just to soften hurt and pain.

May your face be kissed with quiet summer rain.

May the mountains pluck the thunder form your sky.

May a flower grow with every tear your cry.

And everywhere you go, in everyone your know, Let there be love.

May your windy winter nights be safe and warm.

May the light of reason pierce the darkest storm.

May you know the silent secret of a lake.

May your wisdom grow with every step you take.

May your friends be good and true and always there.

May you always have a happy time to share.

May the hollow hurts of loneliness be few,

The surprise of understanding always new.  

And may the taste of life be always fresh and sweet

And may kindness flow from everyone you meet.

May the mystery of childhood be your home

As your spirit takes the years of life to roam.

And when the hour comes for you to rest

May the love of life be still within your breast.

And everywhere you go, in everyone you know, Let there be love.

Douglas Wood, “Sarah’s Prayer,”  WISH FOR THE WILDS,  copyright, 1978.