Okay, it's an adult's privilege to get nostalgic every once in a while, don't you think? And my wife and I will suddenly get this far-away look, and you know, drift back to some childhood incident. And that's usually the point at which the kids desert the room, because they know another one of the old stories is coming up. But frankly, I like it when my wife's telling about her childhood on the farm in the Ozarks. I enjoy hearing about it.
Our grandson has one of those inquiring minds. So he really likes a gift he got for Christmas; it's called a rock tumbler. You'll never guess what it does. It tumbles rocks. The rock tumbler is placed in water, and these boring old rocks are placed in the rock tumbler, you turn it on and you let the good times roll! Those rocks start spinning, flying, and crashing into each other as they churn around in that water. All they need is some music so they could have a rock concert. Right? Ok, fine. The atmosphere inside that rock tumbler is pure mayhem. But after all the rockin' and rollin' and clashin' and crashin', something pretty amazing happens. Before those rocks went through the tumbler, they were just drab, boring hunks of stone. They come out displaying a beauty you would have never guessed they had!
There's something very special about having a new baby in the family at Christmastime - since it's really all about a baby. And this past Christmas, we had the joy of celebrating with our brand new granddaughter. Well, she didn't actually do much celebrating - she really didn't do much of anything except lie there and look irresistible. Now, in my head, I know that babies are helpless, but being around one for a little while really brings that home. Our little darlin' couldn't eat unless Mommy fed her. She couldn't burp unless someone burped her (that's something that some of us grew up and learned to be quite good at). Our baby couldn't move unless someone moved her; her little hands sort of flailed around - absolutely no ability to control what they did. Helpless.
OK, I'm a history buff. So my kids had the opportunity to visit many houses and villages that are historic preservations or restorations. They might put that a little differently. "We got dragged to all this history stuff!" Our two sons especially got to dreading that word "tour." In fact, they made it a much longer word. It went something like this: "Oh, we're not going on another toooooo-urrrrr?" One thing that made the toooo-urrrs a little more interesting, were the craftsmen working their crafts. Like the potter, for example. Even the kids enjoyed stopping to watch him do his work. He'd start with this worthless lump of clay and slowly, painstakingly, he would transform it into something really beautiful and valuable. I could tell that, by the gift shop prices on his pottery.
Fill in the blank. Dog collars are for _________. Dogs, that's right. Or, in one case, a not-so-bright nephew. My friend's nephew decided it would be fun to put his dog collar on around his own neck. It wasn't just any dog collar; it was the kind that gives the dog a little shock when he's barking too loud. Doesn't sound like something they should be selling, but you know what, this guy owned one. You want to guess the rest? Without thinking, he yelled something to someone across the yard, which triggered a shocking reaction from the collar, which made the young man of course, scream in pain, which gave him another shock, which caused him to shout "Ow!" again. Which caused...you got the idea.
Now, we've driven some pretty desolate stretches of the U.S. For a guy who used to wait 'til the last minute to get gas, those stretches were life-changing. A couple of bad experiences and you become mister "fill up at half a tank." But America's desert and wilderness stretches take a back seat to some of the wilderness of the Middle East; especially some of the desert traversed by God's ancient people as they went from Egypt to the Promised Land. Recently, a writer named Bruce Feiler decided to physically retrace some of the geography of the first five books of the Bible. Including the still-challenging Sinai wilderness where God's people wandered for 40 years. He spent time with the nomadic Bedouins who make that wilderness their home. He walked the hot sands, the daunting mountains of that wilderness. And, in the process, he found himself on an unanticipated journey of spiritual discovery. And he learned something about why God led His children through the desert - and why He still does. Here's what this author said: "In the desert, there's no such thing as independence - only dependence."
We'd stopped for gas next to an Interstate that takes you at 75 MPH across long miles of desert. I love the west. That's where I saw the sign: "Dead End - 3 Miles Ahead." I thought, "I wonder if anyone ever said, 'I'm not sure that's true of that old dirt road. I think I'll drive that way and check it out for myself.'" We got back on the Interstate, and of course, I had to see where that other road went. Sure enough, that bumpy road ended three miles later in the middle of nothing in the desert...right next to a road that speeds you to a lot of great destinations.
Isn't it amazing how different your second child can be from your first child? Just when you think you've got this parent thing all figured out, God sends you a totally different kid. For example, food has always been sort of a necessary evil for our son's oldest, our granddaughter. She can take it or leave it. Since infancy, she hasn't cared much about whether or not she had food. Not her brother! Oh no! This kid is an eating machine. He's only about a year old, but he was Food King for much of his little life. When he was still supposed to be only having milk, he was following every bite any of us put into our mouth as if to say, "So when do I get some of that stuff?" How did he graduate to crawling? One thing that helped was putting some food across the room. He just needed incentive. He took off on all fours like a firecracker had gone off behind him. One day, his mom was mixing up his next meal, and he was watching and complaining. As she continued to get it ready, he continued to escalate his expressions of impatience and displeasure. By the time his food was ready, we were dealing with a very loud, very insistent protest.
Our local high school band worked hard to put on some great performances at our football games. I know. Our daughter was one of the trumpet players. I also remember going to band competitions at different schools. We have some precious memories of sitting on the top bleacher with a wind chill that would have made a polar bear go inside. My teeth were chattering loud enough to be in the percussion section! Our band also got to perform in several local parades. But, there's just a handful of high school bands that get invited to play in one of America's really big parades, like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City. Recently, the Mountain Home, Arkansas, band had that thrill.
There are many kinds of artists. My friend, Martha, makes her masterpieces out of thread. She lives in a tiny, sparsely-furnished house in a remote corner of the Navajo reservation. It hasn't been an easy life with eleven children and a husband who blew most of his meager income on alcohol. But she found a way to provide at least enough money for her family to eat. She wove Navajo rugs. We've had the privilege of being there when she was working on one. She had a loom in her living room where she worked for hours on end, pulling thread from one side to the other. In some ways, it doesn't look like it has much promise; there's no pattern anywhere to be seen. It was all in her mind. But there's something beautiful in her mind that only she could see as she patiently wove those threads back and forth. And when she was finished, she'd produced a masterpiece for which a tourist would pay thousands of dollars in a nearby store. Martha will only get a fraction of that, but shame on anyone who ever questioned what she was doing on that loom.
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