People-Watching

Coincidence?

A strange thing happened to me last week, as I traveled between my home in the Duckabush and my office in Seattle.

I brought my camera along that day, and I decided to take a few pictures, including one of the commuters as they exited the ferry terminal, shown below.

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I noticed a Hispanic woman traveling with a small girl … I remember wondering if she had chosen a day-care facility in Seattle so that she and her daughter could spend the commute together. By chance, I captured the daughter in the bottom right corner of the picture I took of the commuting horde.

That evening, as I boarded the homeward ferry, I noticed the unusual duo again. I was intrigued by the appearance of the little girl, who reminded me of my own little sister, adopted from an orphanage in Vietnam some 32 years ago.

I left the ferry and boarded the bus, taking a seat in the back. As always, I checked with the driver to ensure I had selected the correct #90 bus (there are three, and they vary their destinations and departure times from hour to hour in maddening confusion). Toward the end of the ride, I moved forward to the seats usually reserved for the elderly and handicapped … it is always a good idea to remind the driver that I am still there, since my stop is the last on the line.

I noticed the woman and her daughter still on the bus, about the same time as the driver. He asked her where she was going.

“I need to connect with the bus to Port Townsend,” she told him in a thick Central American accent.

“Oh,” he answered. “You wanted the 90 express bus that connects with Jefferson Transit.” After a little more discussion they established that the bus to Port Townsend had already left, and that it was the last bus of the evening heading in that direction. It was already late, and I was very tired. Port Townsend, while in the same general direction as my destination, would take me at least 30 minutes out of my path each way. I struggled with my conscience and lost.

“Where, exactly, are you going?” I asked her.

It transpired that she was going to Port Hadlock … a mere 15 minutes off my usual route. Since I had already lost a fight with my conscience over losing an hour, I knew better than to attempt a “best 2 out of 3″ for a mere half-hour. I presented some identification to her and to the bus driver, leaving a witness behind in case I turned out to be an axe murderer or something sinister.

It turned out that she had been closing up an apartment in Bellevue (cleaning & such); she and her husband & daughter were moving to Port Hadlock to help a relative run a new Mexican Restaurant there. Her daughter had wet through her clothes (leaving a large wet mark on her mother’s lap) and had to be changed in the parking lot beside my car. From all accounts, this was icing on the cake of a horrible day.

We began somehow to talk about spiritual things … she was raised in an unlikely cross between a Baptist and a Jehovah’s Witness, adding Pentacostalism to the mix as an adult. I had a chance to tell her a little about what Jesus meant to me and how He had made a difference in my life. I was glad that I had offered to take her home … I don’t think she had any transportation alternatives and would likely have ended up paying $40 for a cab.

So was it a coincidence that I saw her in the morning, out of all those people? I think probably not. Sometimes an opportunity to help comes along so quickly that I miss it out of indecision. I think that God knew I would need some time for my compassion to build and so he planted this lady in my path in the morning, for His purposes. Funny to think of God planning this whole event 8 hours before she took the wrong bus. You or I, if we were God, would probably just take the simplest approach of ensuring that she chose the correct bus … but God doesn’t do things the way we expect. And maybe the point was not only helping her, but God changing me.

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Bible Study

Waiting on the Lord

I was excited today to try out my new travel bible, purchased from CBD (Christian Book Distributor) online. It is only a little larger than a package of Pop-Tarts and contains the entire Bible, NIV translation. With a conservative blue leather cover and a metal snap, it fits neatly in my pocket or laptop bag. I had time on the bus to read Psalms 108-110, and to read over Ephesians 1 twice.

One of the things I think about a lot is the length of my commute, and the seeming waste of hours upon hours of my time. Over the weekend, I was whining about this topic to a friend, and I started thinking about how God perceives time and its waste.

First of all, the very concept of waste is, by definition, bound up with a finite perspective. To test this, find any child below the age of 6 and give them a bottle of bubbles (the kind that comes with a bubble-wand and a screw-on top.

Nearly any child will enjoy the bubbles, but at some point, well inside 30 minutes, most children will either accidentally spill or deliberately pour the bubbles out on the ground, totally insensitive to the waste involved. As a grown-up (at least in age), I am frequently irritated by this failure in my children to understand the finite nature of things.

“Now all your bubbles are gone,” I lecture severely. “Why did you pour them on the ground? Why weren’t you more careful? Now yours are all gone and you’ll have to just sit and watch your sister play with her bubbles.” My children are always very impressed with my lectures.

Let’s face it … life is finite. The brown sugar Pop-Tarts I am nibbling will soon be gone. The Diet Coke (breakfast of also-rans) I am sipping will vanish, probably before the Pop-Tarts. This day, whether it is seized, throttled, savored, hoarded, or allowed to trickle through my fingers, will pass away, never to be reclaimed, except in memory or blog journalling.

I must say, I find the loss of six hours a day in commuting to be deeply offensive … I’ve always had a high view of my time, since early childhood. My Mom once assigned me a cleaning chore that I found particularly tedious; I announced to her in no uncertain terms, “I was meant for more than this!”

In the words of the Psalmist:
“You have made my days a mere handbreadth, the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath.” –Psalm 39:5

Life is finite. Or is it? Look at the way that God treats the ones He loves:

  • Moses, the leader of Israel, the greatest prophet (with the exception of John the Baptist and, possibly, Elijah) spent 40 years herding sheep on the back side of Midian and another 40 years expiating the rebelliousness of his people and his own temper.
  • David, possibly the greatest king Israel ever knew, spent years in exile and being chased throughout the badlands of Israel by his vindictive predecessor. Even when he finally became king at the age of 30, he spent another 7 years waiting in Hebron for the rest of the country to recognize him.
  • Abraham, God’s chosen friend and founder of His people, spent 99 years as a nomadic herder before God’s promise of a son was redeemed.
  • Noah, the only righteous man on the planet in his day, was assigned to a 100-year-long marine construction project.
  • Jesus, God’s own Son, fully God and fully Man, spent the majority of his time on this earth working as a carpenter (or possibly a carpenter’s assistant). It wasn’t until the last 3 of His 33 years that he began to actively pursue His ministry. Even during that time, he spent most of his time commuting.

The list goes on. God’s view of time is notoriously different from ours — “a day is like a thousand years” and so on. For Him, neither time nor matter are finite — He probably has a different perspective on ‘waste’. I wonder if we, in our fast talking, multi-tasking, hyper-scheduled rush to seize and exploit every moment, fail to accurately discern the mind and purposes of God? Perhaps God’s will for me on this commute is to ‘waste’ this time, learning to wait on Him in a positive, active way. Maybe this travel time is a golden opportunity for me to renew a daily habit of Bible study … indeed, even the drive time can be used constructively in prayer and (with the windows rolled up) singing along with praise songs on the local Christian radio station.

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Events

A Birthday Party

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Today we celebrated Daniel’s 7th birthday. We’re almost a month late! Oh dear! The weeks do slip by. Daniel’s birthday fell two days after we returned from Michigan. That weekend Joshua and I were away at a homeschooling conference. The next weekend the little ones were sick (not a good recipe for a party). The following Saturday the neighbors, who make up 3 of the party’s guests, were out of town. We couldn’t have a party without them!

Thankfully, while we were in Michigan we had a party for Daniel. So, although his big party was delayed, he hasn’t been suffering. The neighbor children were here in force this morning and made up a goodly crowd, as you can see by the picture. A friend stopped by with his grandson who was thrilled to find a party going on. Ha! He joined right in.

In a delightful turn of weather the sun was out for the entire length of the party. At the close of our Edgren Lego Island party the rain began and continued for the rest of the day. I love birthday parties and somehow have managed to share the enthusiasm with the older children. Joshua planned the entire party, helped me with invitations. organized the games and then proceeded to implement them. Yay! Rachel handled the decorations. She made posters and signs and hung an assortment of streamers. It’s fun (and touching) to see the children take on (and copy) some of the party traditions I began with them. Joshua even made the cakes (with some help from David and Sarah).

Here is a picture of my devoted Cake Bakers:

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It’s wonderful to see the children work together, especially when the older ones show patience and kindness to their younger siblings. David loved working with Joshua on the birthday cake so when I asked Joshua to make cookies for a neighbor he quickly asked if he could go and get David to help him. They had a great time creaming the butter and sugars, mixing the dry ingredients in a separate bowl and so on. Finally it was time to combine the wet and dry ingredients. I helped David add in the flour mixture and then in a moment of complete insanity told him to turn on the Kitchen Aid. Aieeee! He flipped the switch on and flour and sugar went everywhere! I rushed and turned it off but not before a mess covered the counter and other appliances. Joshua, David and I stood there in a moment of silence. Finally David looked at me, with his adorable blond hair, brown eyes and irresistable three year old face and said,

“That was too hard!”

Joshua and I burst out laughing. Ah, the joys of cooking with children.

Here’s a picture of the Lego Birthday Cake. I don’t have a picture of the ill fated chocolate chip cookies. You’ll just have to take my word for it that they were DELICIOUS even with a little bit of missing flour, salt and baking soda. :)

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Happy Birthday Daniel!! We love you and are so glad God placed you in our family.

Kathy

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Musings

Thankfulness

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Today is a bright, sunny and potentially warm day, and I have much for which to be thankful. It is probably time to make a list, in no particular order:

  • I am married to the most beautiful, fun, cheerful, kind and interesting woman that I have been able to find on the planet, and she really seems to love me!
  • I have five delightful, godly children, three of whom have already trusted Jesus with their hearts.
  • My oldest son is well on his way to becoming a man of God.
  • My oldest daughter has a passion for truth and righteousness.
  • My middle son is always seeking an opportunity to help.
  • My youngest son patterns kindness to his little sister.
  • My youngest daughter is obedient and loves to laugh.
  • All of my children are healthy, happy, and seem to be developing well.
  • I own a home (well, perhaps 1/4 of a home) in a beautiful, remote mountain valley.
  • I have a new job that provides challenge to my mind.
  • My brain is capable of complex thought and is adept at making sense of a large amount of information.
  • I have a number of good friends.
  • My health is reasonably good.
  • I am able to move and walk and see and hear and taste and feel and (when allergy season is over) smell.
  • I don’t have any significant chronic pain.
  • I have hope — a firm expectation that God will take care of me in this life and that He will raise me up to live with Him forever, after I die.
  • I have the complete Bible, that helps me know how to live in a way that pleases God.
  • I am capable of enjoying beauty, like the Olympic mountains looming over the ferry terminal as I leave Bainbridge.
  • I have good relationships with my parents and my wife’s parents.
  • God loves me. He wants the very best for me.
  • I am being conformed to the personality of Jesus.
  • My wife is willing to stay home and homeschool our children.
  • I have a fresh new haircut.
  • Apart from what I owe on my house, I have hardly any debt.
  • I have the opportunity to begin attending a fun new church.
  • My wife and I have built good communication skills and a strong, healthy marriage.
  • I am able to find much to laugh about in life.
  • I have a car that has not (yet) failed to get me to and from the bus stop.

I could probably go on and on. Strange how easy it is to forget the good things and concentrate on the negative — give me a severe toothache and I’ll tell you that life isn’t worth living.

After I got out of the Army, I foolishly joined the National Guard, under the misguided impression that the State of Virginia would help to pay off some of my student loans. For reasons best known to the State, that financial assistance never materialized — but I was assigned to an artillery unit just outside of Richmond. One weekend in the middle of a Fall semester at William and Mary, I was called out on a field exercise. We spent Friday & Saturday nights out in the woods. Due to poor planning, we were provided with no equipment except our field jackets. It was unseasonably cold that weekend — I spent most of both nights pacing around the forest and shivering. When I got back to the dorms, I wanted nothing but a long, hot shower.

Before I left for the field exercise, I had been deeply worried about several papers and exams I had in the near future. Spending a few nights laying on the cold, damp ground, really brought my life back into perspective. If you have food, clothing, and shelter, you’re well ahead of many and you probably have enough to be happy, if only for a little while.

I think a big part of contentment is thankfulness — I feel much more content just having written this blog entry. :)

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Musings

Heavenly Color

Driving along 101 this morning, I was nearly blinded by the glory of the early morning sun, reflected in the waters of the Hood Canal. My soul was touched with wonder in the way the light edges the greens of grass and trees and the mountains with gold. No one else was driving past at that time, and I cast only a fleeting glance toward the mountains — it seems such a shame to let that depth of rich color go unrecorded. And yet God expends such beauty every day in profligate waste. By rights, there should have been bleachers full of people watching that sunrise for an hour or more.

As we pull away from the docks of Bainbridge Island, the hazy bulk of Mount Rainier becomes visible around the end of the coastline, suspended in ghostly majesty at the horizon. How terrible it would be to lose my sight, to no longer enjoy the subtle shadings of greens and blues in the water, sky, and forested shore. Even the works of man, ugly off-white storage tanks and rusty breakwaters cannot mar the stunning beauty of this day.

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I am often frustrated by my inability to capture and store up the scenes my eye can see. I remember camping as a child in Kandersteg, Switzerland, and rising early one morning to take snapshots of the alps. I was bitterly disappointed when my pictures came back from the developer — how bland and colorless they seemed in comparison to the glorious blues and golds I remembered. Although my digital camera performs much better than that ancient children’s camera, I frequently feel dissatisfied with the pictures I take, particularly of distant landscapes.

Our ferry had to slow and turn to avoid a small boat that had plotted an intercept course — finally the boat’s captain realized his peril and swerved to avoid us — a jarring note to the morning. As the Coast Guard patrol boat’s hovering presence reminds, we live under the constant threat of terrorist activity. Thoughts of the attack against the USS Cole casts a sobering pall over my enjoyment of the morning light.

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What would it be like to enjoy the glorious goodness and beauty of God without the ugly intrusion of man’s sin? C.S. Lewis has perhaps described it best, in the final paragraph of The Last Battle:

… but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us, this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

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The musings and ravings of a bloggart family