It happens a lot in sports - especially when there's one of those games they like to call "The Big Game." Two rivals go at it in a game that's really important in the standings, and one team blows out the other team with this huge, lopsided victory. You can almost predict what's going to happen to the winning team in their next game, even if they play some pitiful team that loses a lot more than they win. The guys who totally dominated their rivals in the Big Game may very well lose the little game that follows. It happens a lot. You win big and then, for some reason, you lose big.
So who needs an alarm clock in our neighborhood? We've got ravens! Yeah, those big black birds discovered our backyard. Now, ravens apparently are early risers, a little earlier than most people are. And they are also, shall we say, active conversationalists. Which makes them wonderful alarm clocks for those early morning hours whether you want them or not! Now I don't mind it. It's great to have all the birds singing their little spring concert in our yard. Actually, they do more than sing, they preach!
I was in a board meeting in a hotel conference room. It was in the 90s outside, but I was ready to put gloves on so I could write without shaking. The air conditioner in our conference room was set one notch past high. It was on arctic! We wandered over to the control box on the wall, and all we did was discover that the controls were locked up. Great! So, we called the desk and they had a hard time understanding us because our teeth were chattering. (I'm not exaggerating at all, no.) They finally got the message, and the maintenance man came and he turned down that ice machine. At that moment, he had the power in his hands. Summer or winter, he is the man who decides what the temperature will be. You know, that's a pretty significant position.
It was like a dream come true. I'll tell ya', it was right after Christmas. I was in Manger Square in Bethlehem! Near the entrance to the Church of the Nativity, which is built over the cave believed to be the birthplace of the Son of God.
When our son was in college I think his favorite Christmas song was "I'll be Home for Christmas." That might be every college student's favorite song. He started counting the days, the hours, and the minutes until it was time to go home. But none of our kids have ever experienced anything like what my wife called her loneliest Christmas.
Our oldest son had just graduated from a wonderful Christian college. Most of his good friends were headed for careers in business or the professions - which can be great places to serve God. But his calling was to go as a missionary to an Indian reservation among a people listed by some world prayer people as one of the most unreached people groups in North America. We knew it wasn't going to be easy. In fact, his first place to sleep at night was just a little storeroom, where he slept on a table so he wouldn't be a snack for the critters on the floor. Now, he was there pretty much on his own, and he was just starting to try to break down some walls and meet some of the tribal young people there. He'd been there a couple of weeks when he called us, I guess it was some morning at sunrise his time. He had driven about eight miles to find a phone to call. It was before cell phones! It was the kind of call that a parent doesn't forget. He said, "Mom, Dad, I've got to tell you I've probably never been so lonely in my whole life. In college, I had friends whenever I wanted them, I could go out on a date whenever I wanted to, I could get some money together when I needed to. But here, I have none of those things." To be honest, our parents' hearts were aching at this point. And then we were blown away by his unexpected conclusion. He said, "But I've got to tell you this, "I've never had such peace in my life. I'm where I was born to be, doing what I was born to do!"
Well they called it "Avalanche" in one paper, "Tsunami" in another. "A cultural watershed moment." "A day of reckoning." Some of the words the news used to describe the seasons of relentless accusations of sexual misconduct by powerful men.
The funeral plans for Matt were in the works. The Park Service had announced that Matt was one of five people who had been killed in a plane crash on a mountainside in Montana. The funeral never happened. Suddenly, Matt's bereaved parents heard the stunning news: although he had been badly injured, their son, along with one other Forest Service worker, had just been rescued alive, miles from the crash site. Rescue workers at the scene of the crash had concluded that the charred wreckage and the scattered human remains indicated that the crash had been "un-survivable." But amazingly, Matt and his fellow worker hiked for 29 hours, often in subfreezing temperatures, until they reached a highway where a motorist picked them up. One news magazine called it, "A Miracle in the Snows of Montana" (Newsweek, October 4, 2004).
A dog and bubbles: ah, there's an amusing combination! I think my wife discovered this when our little Shih tzu dog was just a puppy, a new member of our family, and she was kind of still discovering her world. My wife went out and bought one of those containers of bubbles, you know the one with the little wand.
You may remember when the word window just referred to that opening in a wall that kind of, you know, you covered with glass? Well, NASA changed all that. A window is still an opening, but the folks at Cape Canaveral use that word to refer to that brief period of time where everything is right for the launch: the wind is okay, the weather's okay, they've checked it at the Cape, they've checked it down range, and the atmospherics are okay for communication. The conditions have been predicted for the time of return and they look good, too. But the window will pass soon. If you're going to get this thing off the ground, go when the window's open.
