In a Round-about Way

Posted on August 31, 2011 by Margaret

When Skylar and Micah were here (ages 3 and 18 months), we frequently walked to a nearby playground to ride a small merry-go-round. It had no ponies, brass poles or circus music, just boards to sit on and painted pipes to hold. Their daddy spun it again and again, and we all enjoyed their grins and giggles.

One day we decided to give them a real merry-go-round ride and drove 20 minutes to a giant beachfront carousel. Although we’d talked about it ahead of time, seeing the massive horses (lions, birds and dinosaurs) concerned them. Both wore serious expressions as we waited in line.

When it was their turn, they were skeptical but did want a closer look. And then we were moving, the kids atop bejeweled steeds with their manes flying and teeth showing. At one point Skylar said, “Can I get off now?”

When it finally stopped, they were both eager to climb down, neither one wanting a second go-round, though back at home they continued to enjoy the simple playground version.

Sometimes less is more.

I discovered that after trying to condense two homes worth of stuff into one. Drawers were so packed they refused to close, and my china cabinet was no longer safe for breakables, which were stacked six deep. But when little by little I eliminated half of everything, open shelf space began to appear, and drawers functioned properly.

I can think of only one instance when more is always better: time spent with God. We’ve all heard Martin Luther’s statement about his daily prayer time. He prayed two hours every morning, unless he faced a busy day. Then he prayed three.

In this high speed era of fast-track education, instant availability, and microwavable dinners, slowing down enough to sit quietly with God for several hours seems unthinkable. Yet he’s the only one who controls the happenstance and opportunity of life. To spend time with him brings direct benefit to us.

But there is some 21^st century good news waiting for us on the flip-side of Luther’s long prayer times. If we can’t possibly find two hours, a lesser period of intentional time works, too. God’s influence isn’t limited by less effort on our part.

For example, he can bring eternal life to someone through one scriptural phrase or redirect a life purpose through one whispered sentence. Such awesome work removes our guilt when we wish we could spend more time but just can’t make it happen. God doesn’t want us clocking minutes with him, just to match saints like Luther.

The principle is like being thrilled with a simple wooden merry-go-round, rather than riding on a jewel-studded carousel, anxious to get it over with.

Jesus prayed, “I have made you known to them, [Father], and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” (John 17:26)

A Broad-bodied Boy

Posted on August 29, 2011 by Margaret

My buddy Jack is the perfect dog, loyal, loving and protective. Lately, though, his once-predictable behavior has changed. Although he gets at least three walks and a beach trip every day, recently he’s been requesting more (pestering with whining, refusing to settle, wagging enthusiastically).

And another change: after “doing his business” morning and evening for years, now it’s morning, mid-morning, mid-day, mid-afternoon and evening. Louisa and I just couldn’t figure it out.

Then there was his new habit of going to the basement, something he never did except to follow me, if I went. Although he didn’t sneak down there while we were home, each time we left and returned, we found him climbing up the steps to greet us rather than sitting atop the stairs in his usual spot.

Today we solved the mystery. Jack has been sneaking extra dog food. He’s never snatched a piece of meat off the counter or a tidbit from the edge of the dining table. His manners have been impeccable since we got him 8 years ago, but now something’s changed.

Maybe the whole thing is my fault, since his giant bag of dog food always sits wide open on the basement floor. I didn’t know it was tempting him and wonder how much temptation finally put him “over the top.”

We could wonder the same about ourselves. None of us are tempted to bury our faces in a bag of Kibbles and Bits, although we might do it if the morsels were covered in chocolate.

Of course temptations come in all sizes and shapes, and they’re not all cloaked in calories. Satan’s efforts to derail righteousness involve taking anything God meant as a blessing and pushing it to an extreme, either too much or too little. No category is exempt from his tampering: what we read, watch, eat… or don’t read, watch eat. Where we go, who we befriend, how we judge, what we say… or don’t.

Scripture describes two roads to get through life: the broad and the narrow. A picture of the broad one includes the devil’s acres of extremes; the narrow way depicts a moderate middle. Since most of us are less about self-control and more about keeping all our options open, we know which road looks most attractive.

After Jesus expounded on the two roads, his next scriptural words were, “Watch out!” And therein lies the key to successfully walking the narrow road: we need to keep a watchful eye on the broad one, so we’ll know when we’re wandering too close to it. But keeping an eye on it and stepping on it are as different as resisting temptation and giving in to it. We need to watch out!

And speaking of narrow and broad, Jack’s broadening physique has betrayed which road he prefers.

“Wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (Matthew 7:13,14)

Spicy Relationships

Posted on August 29, 2011 by Margaret

Nate and I married when he was a second year law student at the University of Illinois and I was a teacher in a small town. Without money, we feathered our first nest in Early Hand-Me-Down, delighted with reject-carpeting and a used couch. Sticking Contact paper onto cabinets, walls and canisters (coffee cans) made our place a beautiful backdrop for young love.

I remember the first couple-trip we made to the grocery store to buy supplies. Our 23” long receipt is still glued into my engagement scrapbook, a happy reminder of a delightful date-night (despite the extravagant $43.68 bottom line).

While we were at the grocery store, Nate asked if we could buy some spices. Since he didn’t cook, I wasn’t sure why, but we bought the minimum: salt, pepper, cinnamon… and nutmeg. We painted the one-bedroom apartment white, and I moved in. (Nate had to wait 3 months, till after our November wedding.)

Like every other young couple, we had love-names for each other. Some will remain a secret, but the one Nate used most was “Meg”. It was unique to him, and both of us used it on love notes and cards.

A month before we were married, I opened one of our two kitchen cabinets to get the cinnamon for toast and found a tiny love note attached to our lone spice can. Nate had taken a strip of masking tape, covered the “nut” in “nutmeg” and written “Nate’s” instead, i.e. “Nate’s Meg.” I loved it so much I’ve taken care of it for 42 years, and tonight the rusted can is sitting on my desk.

We weren’t unique in having special names for each other. Some newlyweds even have a language all their own, a vocabulary just for them. We weren’t any different, using tender words and inside jokes to make the most of every minute together.

Decades passed, and many of the pet names we had for each other disappeared, but as the years went by, we learned how to communicate better and better. Long-married wives and husbands figure out what works by finally surrendering what doesn’t. And if couples make it to a 40^th or 50^th anniversary, they know how to effectively talk to each other.

Someone else who communicates perfectly is God. He not only understands (and speaks) every language on the planet, he “gets” the slang and couple-vocab, too. Better still, he comprehends thought-language, yearnings we might have trouble putting into words.

This is good news for widows, who often agonize so deeply that a whimper or a sob is all they can “say”. Even then, God hears accurately, knowing their names and even their nicknames. As the old hymn says, Jesus is the lover of our souls. He may even have some nicknames of his own for us.

The nickname “Meg” stuck on greeting cards and notes until the day Nate died. Although I eventually bought a new tin of nutmeg, Meg’s Nate can never be replaced.