Thought-Provoking

Here are some quotes from the Summer 2006 edition of the LUTHERAN WOMEN’S QUARTERLY that I thought were worthy of some thought. I wish I could link you to the articles, but the best I can do is point you here. The articles from which I am quoting are not available on line.

The first quote is from an article by Shari Miller entitled “Life: Beyond Cruise Control.” Shari learned the definition of the word velocitized from her daughter’s driver’s ed book. Here it is:

Hours of driving can fool you into thinking your vehicle is traveling slower than it really is. This condition, called velocitation, can be especially hazardous when you exit an expressway. If you are “velocitized,” you might continue to drive on local roadways at expressway speeds after making your exit.

This is what Shari has to say about her new word:

Do I get velocitized in my daily life and routines? Do I get going so fast that I don’t even know I’m going fast and then fail to see the “road signs” that God has placed along the road for me to see? … Have I set my life on cruise control?

She ends with this thought:

What is God encouraging you to do? Cruise control? Whose control?

Hmmm…maybe we should all think about that one.

The other article is by Phyllis Jastrom. According to the QUARTERLY:

Phyllis spent 23 years in Japan as a missionary wife and now lives in northern Minnesota…

Phyllis titled her article “I Know BECAUSE I Know the Author.” Here’s how she starts:

Have you ever read a page-turner book that you couldn’t stop reading? With every page, you read faster and faster because you want to hear what happens next. The book is filled with the emotions of life: joy, laughter, tears, beauty, love and death. Each chapter brings something new.

Every day I thank God for all the chapters in my life, and I’m eager to turn each and every page because I know the Author of Life.

She goes on to tell the story of the chapters of her life and ends with this thought:

The book of my life has been a page-turner filled with delightful, challenging, and beautiful chapters….

I wonder if Phyllis knows Shari Miller. Did her life turn out so well because she knew who was in control?

A Possibility

As we search for places to retire in a few years, we have become a little discouraged. We knew from searching for a home in Indiana that some places speak right to you. You just KNOW that you could live there. And some of them put you off right away.

We came from seven acres in Ohio. Seven acres where, for a period of time, we raised our own livestock–chickens and pigs–and  raised and canned the vegetables that we ate. I baked our bread, and my neighbor and I ran a co-op from which we bought dairy products. We had a wood-burning stove that provided our winter heat.

Although wood heat is dirty, I miss that stove for two reasons. First of all, we have forced air gas here in Indiana, and I am often cold unless the air is actually blowing. Secondly, some of the best bonding my husband and I did was when he cut wood for the stove and I loaded it into the truck. We brought it home and he split while the kids and I stacked. I know it sounds like a lot of work–and it probably was–but what I remember was the bonding.

So, as we looked for a retirement home, we decided we wanted one with a wood burner. Lord willing, we will both have good enough health to cut the wood that we need. Until two weeks ago, we had seen basically nothing. But, on a whim, we drove by a lake with which my husband had experience as a young man, and there was a cottage for sale. Right by the entrance. It was for sale by owner. Unfortunately, the sign was so old that the phone number had worn off, and it was too late at night for us to ask one of the neighbors.

I had the grandson last week so I could not explore further. Last night, though, I got on the net and found a cottage for sale on the same lake. My husband and I were a little surprised by the price as you own the building but not the land. However, we are often surprised by prices these days. Who isn’t?

Anyway. I e-mailed the realtor, but I didn’t have high hopes. I did the same thing for a cottage that we saw as we drove through Kentucky last year and got no response at all. But this realtor called back. This morning. At five after nine, which must have been shortly after he got to the office. I was impressed.

He gave me all the information he had, but we cannot see the home until after July 5th, which is annoying because the hubby is on call the weekend following the fifth. He is free THIS weekend. Wouldn’t you know it?

The realtor said some of the cottage had been redone with ceramic floors, etc. I would have to see it to know what I think. To me, a cottage speaks of hardwood floors. And I am nervous about going to a smaller house. We have a lot of stuff, books in particular, that just wouldn’t fit. But this is the first time I have seen my husband’s eyes light up at the possibility of living elsewhere.

Retirement is sort of huge to look at, so I am hoping this is a first step. I don’t know if this cottage will speak to us like the little run-down one that is for sale by owner, though. That one had climbing roses by a little front fence and a bigger porch, although for some reason, there was no door to the porch. You had to walk up steps from the side. That one will take a lot of work.

But maybe that one will be something we can make into our own.

Or maybe this one will. Here’s the picture from the realtor’s website:

Grandpa Doesn’t Allow Monsters

I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it because I didn’t face it with my kids. Or maybe I did, but not like this.

“Grandma, I’m afraid.”

RJ likes to call himself a “big strong boy.” Bless his little three-year-old heart. He informed Grandpa and me that he was Spiderman and could climb walls and spin webs. Interestingly, although he mentioned other superheroes and was interested in them, he did not pretend to be any of the others. And evidently, Spidey is not strong enough to take care of the monsters.

Seven days is a long time, and it was RJ’s first time away from his mommy and daddy, so a certain amount of fear was natural, we thought. And I remember a certain amount of fear from my childhood. Our furnace, which was in the basement, was a converted coal burner with a lot of pipes which, to a little girl, looked an awfully lot like arms.

Anyway. RJ lives in an area where there are different noises, too. He hears traffic noises at home, but not a lot of individual car noises. And he certainly doesn’t always hear the birds. So he had a lot to deal with. We live in a housing development that is outside the city limits. You can hear the school bus and the garbage truck. And lots of different birds.

It became clear early on that my lap did NOT provide the reassurance RJ needed, so I tried another tack. “RJ,” I said, “Grandpa doesn’t allow monsters in his house.”

His eyes got big. “He doesn’t?” he said.

“Nope. So no monsters can come in here. You’re safe from them here.”

That worked pretty well, actually. When he would tell me that he was afraid, I would remind him that there were no monsters in the house. Didn’t matter that Grandpa was at work part of the time. Grandpa didn’t allow the monsters, so they didn’t come in.

That even evidently worked on the monster I heard about most often, the Funky Feet Monster. Seems that that particular monster causes a lot of problems for RJ at home. But when he came to me to tell me that the Funky Feet Monster was going to get him, I said, “RJ, Grandpa doesn’t allow the Funky Feet Monster, either. No monsters come in his house.”

“Oh,” he said. And that was good enough. At least until the big storm on Thursday.

On Thursday, eighty mile an hour winds swept through our county and did a lot of damage. RJ and I had just returned from the grocery store when the winds started up. Grandma, in her not-so-infinite wisdom, took him outside to watch the storm come.

“See?” I said. “It’s just a big wind.”

As the rain began to pelt us, we retreated inside the garage. RJ was in my arms as we watched the wind blow the garbage can across the street across the yard. Leaves skittered around the corner and down the road toward the river.

We  went into the house. Now, there are a lot of things that I like about Indiana, but one of the things I do not like is that the electric power, although we don’t pay nearly as much for it as we did in Ohio, fluctuates. Frequently. Usually it isn’t out for a long time, but it can go on and off ten times in a minute. That’s what it did as RJ and I stood in the kitchen, and I don’t think he had experienced such a thing before.

The refrigerator complained about the whole thing. Loudly. RJ said, “Grandma, I’m scared.” And then the power stayed off.

It was early afternoon, and you wouldn’t think the loss of power would have been so noticeable, but it was dark because of the storm and there were no lights to turn on. And it was really hot, but of course the air conditioner wasn’t working. That wasn’t what bothered RJ the most, though. It was the fact that there were no numbers to read on the clock.

What’s a grandma to do? Since he wasn’t about to let go of me, we settled on my bed and took a nap. I figured the power would be on when we woke up.

But no. If you live in the city, you probably don’t know this, but if you don’t have electricity in the country, you don’t have water. So you can’t run water without power. Or flush the toilet. Or open the fridge.

Still, RJ and I passed the time until Grandpa came home. Then we managed to find a McDonald’s with a PlayPlace that was actually open. And air conditioned. That provided a welcome diversion. And it is summer and RJ is little. He played outside until almost ten o’clock.

Grandpa had to go to work in the morning, though, so bedtime had to come. And RJ wasn’t real thrilled about going to bed with the “lectricity” off. Wouldn’t think it would bother him since night-time is dark anyway, would you? But this time, even Grandpa’s powers weren’t big enough to cover it all. Evidently no electricity is bigger than a monster.

After we had said his prayers, I started to leave the room, only to hear a “Grandma, I’m afraid.” So I headed back.

“Why are you afraid? ” I said.

“The big wind came and there’s no ‘lectricity,” was the almost inaudible reply.

I took him on my lap. “RJ, ” I said. “It’s OK. Grandpa is here to take care of us, but you know what? Jesus is here to take care of us, too. He’s even stronger than Grandpa.”

RJ’s eyes got big. “He IS?”

Then he said, “Does Jesus live in the clouds?”

“No, honey. He’s right here with you and me. He lives in our hearts.”

“And Grandpa’s?”

“Yep.”

“Does Jesus take care of ‘lectricity?”

I hugged him. “Honey, Jesus takes care of EVERYTHING.”

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, that settled him down. I put him in bed and covered him up. He was talking to himself as I kissed his cheek. “I don’t have to be afraid. Jesus takes care of ‘lectricity, and He lives in my heart.”

Some time after that, the electricity came back on. If you have never experienced that, in a quiet house, it can make a lot of noise. The fridge came back on. The computer. The air conditioning. I got up to turn the air off and heard a sleepy little voice.

“Grandma? What was that?”

“The electricity came back on, RJ. See?” I turned on the hall light.

He was pleased, but he didn’t believe everything was OK until I carried him in to see that there were indeed numbers back on the clock. As I put him down in bed, he said, “Did Jesus take care of the ‘lectricity?”

“Sure did, honey,”

“How do I tell Him thank-you?”

I could feel the tears rush to my eyes. “You can say a prayer.”

I folded my hands, but it was RJ who uttered the words. So simple, yet they meant so much from a little boy who had been afraid. “Jesus? Thank you for turning the ‘lectricity back on.”

I hugged RJ and got up. I was almost out the door when I heard, “Grandma? I almost wasn’t afraid.”

Almost is a pretty big step for such a little boy. He had a big week and a lot to take in. He needed some help. Grandpa doesn’t allow monsters, but for some problems, you need Someone bigger.