Monthly Archives: April 2011

Butter me up!

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Last night’s walk with Jack was like a worship experience. After an overcast day, the sky had cleared and the stars were brilliant, making me catch my breath and thank God. I was glad I owned a dog, because without him, I wouldn’t have been out strolling at midnight.

I usually enjoy walking Jack, but not on days like today when it was raining, and I’d just finished doing my hair for church. On those days we walk a new way: I drive, he runs alongside. Through the window I encourage him to stay nearby, and off we go on the quiet neighborhood streets.

This morning I drove to the beach and back while Jack loped next to the car. He got his exercise, and I kept my hairdo.

A while ago, however, Jack and I were driving-walking when he saw a group of white-tail deer in the woods and gave chase. I never worry about the deer, because they bound up sand dunes in massive leaps that quickly leave short doggy-steps behind. What concerns me is getting Jack back.

He knows the way home, but what kind of trouble might he find en route? This day when I called him, he emerged from the woods with what resembled a big cigar in his mouth. As he came closer, I saw it was a full stick of butter.

I don’t know where he found it, but I got a quick visual of diarrhea in the basement and knew I needed to take it away from him. I got out of the car, grabbed a plastic bag from under the seat and rattled it like it was lunch meat. “Jack! Mmmm! Yummy! How ‘bout a treat?” He came right to me and dropped the butter (for his treat) just long enough for me to reach around and grab it. Poor Jack. His prize got stolen, and he was duped in the process.

This is a perfect illustration of the way we reject God’s counsel in favor of our own. He says, “You’ll be sorry if you ‘eat that butter’.” But we grab it like a magnet grabs the fridge, thinking we know better. So he takes a step back and says, “Ok. Have it your way.”

As we run off, we barely hear him say, “I’ll be here if you need me.” And of course we always do.

On “Butter Day,” I put a dejected Jack into the car and drove him home. But first thing, I gave him a double treat, the doggie kind, wanting to make good on my word.

God never fails to make good on his word. After we’ve “eaten our butter,” in the midst of a belly ache and a sincere vow to heed his advice next time, he lets us begin anew.

Then after we’ve had enough butter and belly aches, finally we learn.

”The simple are killed by their turning away… but whoever listens to Me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster.” (Proverbs 1:32-33)

In a Spin

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The last long leg of my road trip from Florida to Michigan was spent on route 65, driving through the long state of Indiana. As I passed Indianapolis in the center of the state and then Purdue University north of that, a strange sight appeared out of nowhere: hundreds of massive pinwheels twirling in the breeze.

It was as if I’d happened upon a festive children’s birthday party where the favors were pristine-white whirligigs. Literally as far as the eye could see in any direction these gently spinning fan-like towers were “growing” right out of farm fields.

Since being home I’ve Googled this phenomenon and learned these sleek, three-pronged structures aren’t windmills at all but wind turbines that harness power for energy efficient production of electricity. Crowds of these turbines “growing” in a group are called a wind farm, and they can be found in flat, hilly or mountainous terrain. They’re even erected in water much like offshore oil-drilling stations.

From a bird’s eye view, wind farms must resemble sea anemone or white porcupines. I learned that opposition groups have formed to prevent the establishment of wind farms for esthetic reasons, but in terms of “going green” on energy, they can’t be beat. Other groups say they bring “peace and tranquility” to the landscape.

The many white spinners I saw were plunked down in the middle of already-plowed fields awaiting corn and bean sprouts. It was as if they were a new crop of giant vegetables trying to fit in. Tractor marks encircled each massive base making round patterns in the dirt, and for many miles there was not one farm without them.

As I drove along, I had to struggle to keep my eyes on the road rather than on these graceful wind turbines. Just call me Dawn Quixote. Then suddenly, as abruptly as they began, they ended. Wind currents must have calmed at that point, since farms with steady winds are the only places turbines are built.

As the forest of “windmills” ended and plain farm acreage took over, I saw a small house with an old fashioned wooden windmill next to its barn. The traditional paddle spinner seemed tiny and antique compared to its 21st century counterpart. The word “humble” came to mind. Yet this kind of windmill has served as the power source for grinding, pumping and pressing for hundreds of years.

Mankind has tried to harness wind and its power since the time of Christ, but the ultimate wind-control goes to the Trinity: Jesus, stilling windstorms; the Holy Spirit, coming with the sound of rushing wind; and God, holding wind in his hands. These three can do with wind what no one else can, which is only one of many reasons why we are not like God and should not try to be.

By the way, I learned Canada is experimenting with wind turbines in the Great Lakes. Maybe one of these days we’ll see a line of them marching down the middle of Lake Michigan. Energy production would be wonderful if they got close to Chicago, which is the original “Windy City.”

“Whose hands have gathered up the wind? What is his name, and what is the name of his son? Surely you know!” (Proverbs 30:4)

April Fool!

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By now you know that my mother, a joke-teller with the best of them, was also a joke-player, and April 1st was prime time for her to “fool around.”

Dad married Mom in 1941, and on their first April Fool’s Day together, he must have wondered what he’d gotten himself into. Being the dignified, quiet Swede he was, he would no more have played a joke on someone than have jumped off a tall building.

Mom fixed Dad’s breakfast as always that day (one hard boiled egg, two pieces of toast, orange juice and coffee). Since Dad always salted his egg and sugared his coffee, she decided to fool him by switching the salt and sugar. He stirred a big spoon of salt into his coffee and shook sugar on his peeled egg. When he took that first sip and spit it out, Mom laughed with gusto. “April Fool!” she said.

The next year she did it again, along with the 48 April 1sts after that. Dad never remembered and went through the breakfast misery every year. Whether or not he got a kick out of seeing Mom’s delight in fooling him, we’ll never know. In his wisdom, Dad may actually have anticipated the joke but then willingly “played the fool” for her pleasure. We’ll never know that, either.

Mom loved to laugh, and Dad’s salt-sugar-switch aside, she loved to see others laugh, too. I’d say she pulled some foolish tricks questing after giggles, but she was definitely not a fool, at least not by biblical standards.

Scripture has a great deal to say about genuine fools. (I repeat: Mom was not one of them.) Here’s a sample of true foolishness:

  • A chattering fool comes to ruin.
  • A fool’s heart blurts out folly.
  • Honor is not fitting for a fool.
  • Fools hate knowledge.
  • The way of fools seems right to them.
  • The mouths of fools are their undoing.
  • Fools despise wisdom and instruction.
  • Fools die for lack of sense.

A biblical study of the word “fool” causes me not to want to be one. So how can I be sure I’m not? The Bible gives two good clues:

  • Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent.
  • Those who trust in themselves are fools.

If I keep my mouth shut (or at least refrain from babbling), and if I trust in God rather than in myself, I have a head start toward avoiding genuine foolishness.

Mom was no fool, and I’m sure of that, because every biblical reference to fools includes their disdain for the Lord and his wisdom, which Mom loved. But she was good at fooling people. Even in her departure to heaven, she came close to pulling a good one. She died on April 5, 2005, but all of us know she was really shooting for April Fools Day.

”The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to [Mom and] us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)