Caged

Posted on May 19, 2011 by Margaret

When our son Nelson was 19 months, we moved him from the nursery to a second bedroom, because another baby was on the way. Even though we put him in a second crib, he was excited about his new room because of a big-boy-bed waiting in the corner.

Just after we moved him, he learned to climb out of his crib. And like most toddlers who figure that out, he began refusing to stay in his room. After a story and prayer time each night, we’d sing, then tuck him in. But when we got to the bottom of the stairs, he’d be right behind us.

This dilemma grew from cute to exasperating, and nothing worked to keep him in his room. Eventually we decided to gate him in. That worked for about 10 minutes until he learned to scale the gate. Nate made a trip to the store for a second gate, and with one above the other, we finally penned him in.

We paid a price for success, however. Rather than surrender quietly, Nelson used his room as a giant playpen, emptying drawers, pulling them out to use as ladders, removing sheets from the two beds, tearing pages out of books. When he tired of playing, he’d fall asleep at the door, often with one arm and one leg outside the gate.

No one likes to be locked in a cage, whether it’s physical or emotional, but sometimes confinement is good.

I remember learning of an experiment at a big-city grade school. Its playground bordered a busy street, and during recess the children played only near the school building, fearful of fast-moving cars. After a fence was built at the edge of the road, the children took advantage of the entire playground. They even played near the fence, just inches from dangerous traffic.

Little Nelson saw his “bars” as a prison. The school children viewed theirs as freedom. Why the difference?

It’s probably a control issue. We told Nelson, “You must stay in your room.” There was no negotiating, and his determination to get out was the result of a desire to buck the system.

The school children were told, “You can play anywhere on the playground.” There were no restrictions. When they hovered near the building, it was because they chose it. When the “bars” went up, they were relieved.

Many people reject religion because they see it as a set of non-negotiable rules that take the fun out of life. But if they understood that God’s structure protects them from harm, they might view it as a relief.

God is the one who gave us free will in the first place. We can fight against his laws (which include natural laws) or submit to them, believing his fences actually bring freedom. Within his boundaries, he gives us unlimited choices, but doing things our own way just to buck the system is foolish.

No toddler understands the importance of going to bed at night. But if we would have taken down Nelson’s gates and let him fall asleep wherever he chose, maybe he’d have chosen his bed.

“The trouble is not with the law, for it is spiritual and good. The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, a slave to sin.” (Romans 7:14)

Spa Day

Posted on May 19, 2011 by Margaret

None of us go to the hospital if we can help it. But this morning I checked into one for a routine colonoscopy.

After being escorted to my private cubicle, a sixty-something nurse with gorgeous, swingy, red hair recorded my health history on a complicated computer program. She typed on 15 different screens while simultaneously conversing with me. “Colonoscopy prep is rough,” she said, “but today you’ll have a better day. Think of it as your spa day.”

She wrapped one wrist with an ID band and put an IV in the other. When she asked if I’d finished drinking the liquid prescribed for the evening before, I was able to say yes, to which she said, “Good! You’ll absolutely sparkle in there.”

Becoming chilly in my thin hospital gown, I asked for a blanket. She walked to a stainless steel refrigerator that looked like it belonged in a designer kitchen, opened the “freezer” section, and grabbed a pile of hot flannel. Spa-time had begun. When the first blanket cooled, she brought me a second.

After checking blood pressure (98/65), temp (97.3) and pulse (71), I was wheeled to my colonoscopy destination. The doctor introduced himself and rattled off a description of the procedure, ending with, “Any questions?”

“How many colonoscopies have you done?” I said.

“I stopped counting at 3000,” he said. “As soon as you turn on your left side, we’ve got your good-time-drugs ready.” (Spa-lingo, for sure.) Quickly after that, through a happy haze, I saw my innards fly by on the TV as if I was riding the “tube” in London’s underground.

In a look-back analysis of the day, it struck me how willingly I’d abandoned myself to medical personnel I hadn’t met before. They “seemed” competent (15 screens, 3000+ procedures), but that’s all I knew. The question is, do I just as readily abandon myself to God?

My actions often say, “Lord, I can handle this problem better than you, but I’ll let you know if I need you.” That’s the opposite of abandoning myself, even though he’s the all-powerful expert in every field, the only one with the answer to every dilemma.

Although God probably wouldn’t have come to earth to perform my colonoscopy, he put together my whole gastrointestinal system in the first place, so no one knows more about it than he does. He also designed my heart, soul and mind, which is why I should eagerly abandon myself to his sovereign care in those categories, just as I put my physical care in the hands of medical personnel today.

God may not physically walk a hospital’s halls each day, but today I learned one way he does show up there: by bringing new babies into the world. At this hospital every birth is announced with a music-box version of Brahms Lullaby over the “spa” speakers. And today I heard that lovely tune 5 times.

“I waited. God looked. He listened. He lifted me. He taught me. People see this, abandoning themselves to God.” (parts of Psalm 40:1-3 The Message)

It’s a sign.

Posted on May 17, 2011 by Margaret

Most of us have computer inboxes chock-full of “forwards” from friends. We can’t possibly read them all, but some are clever enough to pull us in.

When I received pictures of signs outside different churches, a few of them laugh-out-loud funny, I was inspired to begin my own collection of attention-grabbing signs.

For example, the other day I saw a minivan with a crumpled rear end that told the tale of an accident. The owner had put a sign in his back window:

“Put your phone down! I don’t want another bruise.”

Last summer our neighborhood association erected a sign atop our beach dune. It’s a quote from Carl Sandburg, who lived near here briefly. He loved the wide beaches, and local lore has it he worked on his Lincoln biography during his Michigan years. The sign says:

“THE DUNES CONSTITUTE A SIGNATURE OF TIME AND ETERNITY. THEIR LOSS WOULD BE IRREVOCABLE — Carl Sandburg”

Our board hopes to use Sandburg’s clout to guide our footsteps toward the designated pathways that go up, over and down the dune. We all love our beach and are glad to comply.

Last week while in Chicago, I noticed another interesting sign tied to a small tree growing through a sidewalk “port” in front of Marshall Fields:

“This tree gives back $1,436 worth of environmental benefits over the next 15 years.”

It was tagged by the Morton Arboretum (located west of Chicago) with the words, “Every tree counts,” touting the myriad benefits of trees. The former mayor, Richard M. Daley, had put his stamp of approval on the project and on the tree label.

Americans are fortunate to live in a country that allows them to say almost anything. My own children have been on mission trips to countries where word-freedom was limited. They needed advance training on what not to say.

The gift of words was initiated by God and given to all of us. But it wasn’t just so we could communicate back and forth with each other. He hoped we would return his word-gifts to him.

That goes for any and every topic, and he has initiated a 24/7 open door policy of frankness and honesty. He doesn’t want anything to limit our sharing words with him, hoping we’ll communicate personally, not by posting signs.

God encourages freedom of speech toward him. We’re foolish not to take him up on it, because when we make the effort, he returns words back to us in a perfect circle of communication.

The other day I was heading for a Kohls store and felt lucky to find the number one parking spot empty. But as I pulled in, I saw it wasn’t for me. A sign said: