Monthly Archives: June 2011

Snowing in June

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Here in the Midwest the first days of June can resemble the first week in January. Fluffy “snow” fills the air as cottonwood trees release their seeds, each one a tiny parachute of new life. When that happens, I always think of Dad. One of his quiet comments about the cottonwood made a permanent mark on my 8 year old heart.

Dad wasn’t an outdoorsman. In 92 years he never suffered a sunburn, deliberately walked in the rain, or slept outside just for fun. He didn’t like yard work, but for the sake of his wife and kids, uprooted himself from the familiarity of Chicago and moved to the “countryside” of 1948 Wilmette. This committed him to mowing an acre yard, tending a fruit orchard, pruning a grape arbor and weeding a vegetable garden.

Our yard had a massive cottonwood, important because of the tire swing Dad hung from a branch 25 feet up. One good underdog push would keep the Goodyear whitewall sailing for a long while. He set a 6 foot ladder just far enough away so we could stand on the top step, leap onto the tire and fly birdlike in big swooping arcs.

One spring when the cottonwood “snow” was especially prolific (clogging screens and accumulating in drifts), neighbors complained about the pesky nature of these trees. But Dad said, “Look how generous God is. Instead of supplying one seed per tree, he gave each one 10,000.” His comment planted a significant seed in my little-girl heart: God is generous.

Not everyone, however, shares my love of the cottonwood tree. Last week a man who detested the annual “snowstorm” of his next-door-neighbor’s cottonwood was convicted in court of killing the tree. A year earlier he’d secretly bored holes down into its roots, then poured in an overdose of Round-Up weed killer. Gradually the flourishing tree had deteriorated, a mystery to its owners.

The tree-assassin figured the law would be on his side since the holes he drilled were on his own property. But the court ruled otherwise, saying the roots of the tree next door, though growing beneath his lawn, belonged to his neighbor. Had this man been blessed with a father like mine, he might not have “murdered” so lightly.

Dad, a structural engineer by profession, consistently directed our attention to the structure within God’s world. As we grew older, our appreciation for what he showed us in nature transferred from the created things to their Creator, which of course was Dad’s underlying intention. An added benefit was our catching on to the great respect he had for God as the structural Designer of it all, which also transferred to us.

Today as I felt “snowflakes” brush past my cheek, I was thankful for a God who demonstrated his charcter through the cottonwood tree and for a father who pointed past the nuisance of fluffy seeds to the generous God behind them.

“Since the creation of the world his invisible attributes, his eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made.” (Romans 1:20)

Finding Favor

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The youngest child of 7 grows up having precious few hours alone with mom or dad. But as older siblings reach adulthood and head out, together-time becomes available. It’s been just Birgitta and me for the last 3 weeks, hanging out, talking, laughing and doing things one-on-one.

The day before she left, we decided to finish our time with a celebrity event, the Michael Buble’ concert in Milwaukee. Although his big band sound and classic old songs aren’t her style, she accommodated her mother, and we drove to Wisconsin anticipating a good time.

Our seats were in the nose-bleed section, and marching up those last 50 steps felt much like climbing the straight-up ladder of a giant fire truck. But we were surrounded by enthusiastic cohorts and could see the distant stage perfectly.

When Michael appeared, the audience went crazy. Asking for the house lights to be turned up so he could see us, he was thrilled that all 20,000 seats were full and shouted, “I really love you!” causing fresh screams of joy.

I wish I could have known his true thoughts at that moment.

Several times during the evening he stepped off the stage into the crowd, once to kiss a 96 year old fan, another time to walk the length of the floor to a mini-stage where he sang half-a-dozen songs up close and personal with the faithful. He gave himself to the crowd, shaking hands as he sang, snuggling for photos, and high-fiving each person he could reach. It was fun to watch it.

Driving home Birgitta and I chatted about this 35 year old singer who’s in the process of being swept high on a rising star. He told us about the “seedy dives” he’d sung in as a teen, trying to get his career started. But that night fans pushed each other aside to get near the object of their affection and literally jumped up and down reaching for him when he looked in their direction.

Watching the drama unfold from our bird’s eye view, I wondered how long this public devotion would last. The more important question, though, is how can Michael deal successfully with such gushing favoritism? How can he avoid thinking of himself as superior to those of us who paid to hear him sing? Maybe he is superior?

God has a strong opinion about this. He’s closely acquainted with each ticket-holder, from those of us in the cheap seats to the one on center-stage. If asked to rank us, he’d say, “At the bottom, all of you.” In our natural state, none of us, including Michael Buble’, have clout with God, and there’s nothing we can do to remedy that. If we think there is, we’ve misread the Bible.

But there is something God can do about it, and he did it. Because of his love, he worked out salvation’s plan through his only Son. After we put full trust in Jesus, we’ve ridden a rising star all the way to the top, one that will never fall.

The love of music fans is fickle at best, so if Michael wants to find favor that will never fade, he’d better look for it with the Lord.

“God shows no favoritism.” (Acts 10:34b)

In Sync With God

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Yesterday Birgitta was programmed toward her university, excited that the 5 hour drive would reunite her with friends and put her into a summer school course she wanted to take. But as she sped down the center lane of an Illinois toll road headed for Iowa, her life was put on the line.

The sky-blue, 1994 Honda Accord she and Louisa have shared since 2007 has safely transported them over 72,000 miles, most of it at high speed. But yesterday that same car nearly took Birgitta’s life.

A corroded hood latch let loose, sending the hood sailing up and back with such force it smashed the entire windshield, depositing glass shards in her lap and at her feet, cracking the car roof and shaping it into a V.

But worse than that was the terror of hurtling down the highway blind, with the hood cemented to the windshield. Although she doesn’t remember what happened in the next critical seconds, she does remember screaming at the earsplitting bang of the hood impacting the glass.

Somehow she kept her head and swung left (as she said, “without looking”), and landed on the shoulder, heart pounding and tears flowing.

I was in a store 15 miles away without my phone (left in the car), but God was on the scene. Within minutes he placed a helpful policeman and a highway assistance-truck on either side of her, and by the time I arrived, Birgitta was calmer than both men. They were remembering similar accidents with far different outcomes, and they told us so. The situation might easily have included an ambulance, a hospital or a funeral home.

An hour later, sitting in a body shop waiting room, we learned our reliable Accord with 217,000 faithful miles on it would cost double its value to fix. But Joey, the estimator, remembered us (especially Nate) from multiple prior car repairs and kindly waived his tow truck’s fee.

So we shifted Birgitta’s dorm room cargo from her car to mine, said goodbye to her driving independence, and drove to Iowa.

Some might say, “How could God let that happen?” The better question is, “Why did he bless us so lavishly?”

  • Birgitta was unharmed!
  • No other cars or passengers were involved.
  • It occurred before she’d driven too far from home.
  • Help arrived within minutes.
  • Although she’d misplaced her driver’s license last week and couldn’t produce it, the policeman didn’t ticket her.
  • The tow truck happened to come from the body shop of our family’s car history.
  • Joey remembered us and waived the $135 fee.
  • I received one extra day with my daughter.

As we left the body shop, Joey said to Birgitta, “You shouldn’t be here right now. With your kind of luck, I’d go play the lottery!” But of course luck had nothing to do with it.

Although God doesn’t prevent every accident, this time his choice and mine had been in perfect sync.

“The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch…” (Proverbs 15:3a)