The Unclogging Process

After two days of watching my enthusiastic relatives work to clear my basement pipes, I’m sad to say they remain clogged. Things other than pipes, however, have been unclogging.

It began as blog readers shared their plumbing adventures with me and each other. Nancy wrote, “We had rocking toilets, collapsing sewer pipes, root-clogged drainage pipes, and so much more. One time our shower water was not going down, so David took the entire drain apart. I went upstairs and looked at the ‘air hole’ under the faucet, which was full of hair. I pulled the hair out, and David, who was downstairs looking up, got a face full of water.”

But Nancy also wrote about clogs of a different sort, the things that clog relationships and inhibit the important back-and-forth flow of communication between two people: “God used our house issues to teach David and me how to communicate without sharp words and with lots of love. Just like frustration levels soar with blocked pipes, so other emotions can sneak in and [clog our relationship], leading to spilled words that don’t belong in a marriage.”

She described how sin between two people (or between one person and God) is hidden from view when it begins, and then unforgiven sin is the start of big-time clogs in the relationships. The Bible says we’re to be “quick to hear,” and if someone can’t hear what God or each other is saying because sin is clogging the way, relationships dry up in a hurry. The reverse is true, too. Where would we be without the ability to pour out our troubles to God?

Clean drain

Yesterday my sister mentioned a TV ad from long ago in which a clear acrylic drain trap under the sink was filled with gunk. When the drain-clearing product being advertised was poured into the acrylic pipe, we watched in amazement as the clog rushed away like a mini-roller coaster on a track, allowing clean water to flow freely through the pipe.

That’s exactly how it is when we keep current in our communication with God and each other. As soon as the slightest bit of goo accumulates in the lines between us, we should quickly route it out before it gets big enough to hinder the flow. If the talking-listening paths become as badly clogged as my basement pipes are, restoring the back-and-forth of open communication might take days or even weeks.

Possibly...

It may not happen at all without painful excavating, followed by major reconstruction…. which is exactly where I fear my basement pipe-project is going.

I have an ace-in-the-hole, though: Nancy.

If I become feeble in whatever plumbing process lies ahead of me, I can always email her voice of experience, and I know she’ll “hear me clearly.”

“Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

Funny how that works…

Jack's delightI absolutely love winter. My heavy black coat thickens into a super-coat, and the panting heat of summer is long gone. Snow is like the frosting on my wintertime cake, and I like to burrow in it, roll in it, and wriggle upsidedown happy-dancing in it. Truth be told, I’d like to live outdoors through the entire winter except for one thing: the people I love are inside.

The newest person inside the house is the baby who arrived last October. I didn’t stress much at the time, figuring her position on center stage would be short-lived. After 3½ months, though, she’s still the main attraction, and I have definitely slipped in the rankings. Most of the sweet-talk is still going her way, and the general public races to greet her first now, instead of me.

But something odd has happened in the last week. Deep inside me I sense the beginning of a strange affection for this mini-human. Unlike me when I was 3 months old, she can’t walk, run, stand, or even sit up. She’s virtually helpless, and my heart goes out to her. She doesn’t even realize she could reach the dog treats if she tried.

So finally I decided to reconcile myself with the fact that she’s here to stay, and along with that, I might as well get in sync with the others in our house. Now when I hear Midge or anyone else cooing or sweet-talking the baby, I no longer push in for my share of the love. Instead I’ve begun a little cooing of my own. Though it sounds more like a squeaky hinge, in my head it’s cooing.

Love

And it’s funny what began happening. Last week when I gently laid down next to the baby on her play mat, both Birgitta and Midge ran for their cameras. “Look how cute he is!” they said, actually referring to me this time. “He wants to be with the baby. What a sweet doggie!” And click-click went the cameras.

Later that day I gave the baby two gentle kisses on her tiny hand, which was a special gift to her, since I give out only about 5 kisses per month. (By the way, she tasted very good.)

You know, sometimes when we want something badly (like I wanted all the attention), it escapes us. No matter how we try, we can’t make it ours. Then when we give up and surrender the thing we wanted most, it somehow comes to us! It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what’s happened to me.

Making a snow angel

And I’m so thrilled about it, I think I’ll go out in the snow right now and celebrate with a nice long happy dance!

“Give, and you will receive…. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.” (Luke 6:38)

Trails

Sky writingWhen driving back to the Chicago area at dusk recently, the trail-marks of O’Hare’s jet planes made a beautiful criss-cross pattern in the sky highlighted by a gold and blue sunset. I could hardly pay attention to the road for wanting to stare at it, so I snapped a photo instead, to study later. The jets that made the trails were nowhere to be seen, but we knew they’d been there because of what they’d left behind.

Baby rattle

 

When I walk through my house and see baby items, I know a baby has been here. Of course they belong to Emerald, and she lives with us, so that makes sense. But even when she’s tucked into her bassinet, out of sight and sound, evidence of her former presence has been left behind.

Gel flower

That’s true even for my other 6 grandchildren. Today I was sweeping when I noticed something cute on one of the heating duct grills. It was a tiny window cling in the shape of a flower. I’d given all the children sheets of the clear, Jello-like decorations, and most of them lasted only long enough for a day’s play. The purple flower, however, had gone astray and became a sweet reminder of the children who had recently stood playing in that place.

God leaves reminders of where he’s been, too, hoping we’ll recognize his activity and think about the fact that he was nearby. If we take the time to notice, we can see his “trails” all around us, for example outdoors every day. They’re visible in large ways (the heavens on a clear night) and small ones (the diligence of a squirrel transporting acorns).

We can also see God’s trails in people, like the testimony of someone whose life has been changed after committing to Christ. We see it when we watch a tiny start-up church flourish and grow, when a girl forgives the one who abused her, and when a terminally ill person dies with a smile on his face. All of these things are trailer-markers letting us know God was there.

One major difference, though, between God’s trails and those of jetliners, babies, and preschoolers is that after he leaves his mark, he doesn’t leave. He stays with the new Christian, the growing church, the girl who forgives, and the dying man.

And about that dying man? When his soul flies away, it’s so quick and complete that not even a wisp of a trail will be left behind him.

[Our lives] ”pass quickly and we fly away.” (Psalm 90:10)