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Wednesday, August 27, 2008

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Oh, man, we love the ocean! We love to walk the beach and if my wife has a head-start on me, I can figure out which way she went - Oh, I kid her about being a little paddle footed - she leaves behind footprints that make a slight "V" in the sand. Of course, when the tide starts coming in you can forget all the footprints any of us left that day! When the waves finish giving the beach a bath, you can't even tell anyone walked there today. Notice when they want to commemorate the careers of those Hollywood stars. They have them put their footprints in cement in the sidewalk, not in sand at the beach.

Friday, August 22, 2008

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A lot of news stories just flash into our lives and then are forgotten almost immediately. Then there are those images that are just embedded in our brains for years to come. Several years ago one of those events happened, and a lot of us can still see the images of that dramatic rescue in our minds. A little toddler named Jessica had been playing in the backyard in Midland, Texas, and she plummeted down this narrow little shaft. She was wedged in there; trapped underground. It seemed as if the whole nation stopped to watch the tense vigil as rescuers tried to find a way to save that little girl. It was a long ordeal, but one rescuer, using a parallel shaft and working in the tightest of quarters, was finally able to get to little Jessica. And in a moment of incredible relief and joy, he brought her out.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

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When you work at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, you know there will be no physical link to the outside world for you between February and October. You are 840 miles from the nearest populated site and you're facing average winter temperatures of eighty below zero. Now, imagine being one of the women stationed there and discovering a lump that indicates you have breast cancer. Distant medical authorities determined that this lady must receive some emergency medical supplies. (And it really happened.) Getting those supplies, though, is easier said than done.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

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When our older grandson was 14 months old, he had a ball discovering his world. I loved to take him in my arms and get him excited about something in God's world. I'd point to a tree, or a flower, or a dog, or a cow and teach him the word for it. After that, whenever we'd be together, he'd start the pointing, and he'd give me his version of the word for whatever he was point to. But I think I saw the greatest wonder in him when he'd look up at the night sky. It didn't matter what was going on around him, he'd start looking up and pointing at the moon, at the stars; oh, man, he loved the stars. He just couldn't miss those lights shining in the dark night sky.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

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Not all the drama of the Olympics takes place during the Olympics. Some of it unfolds in the weeks and months leading up to the games. Like the Olympic torch, for example. In the spirit of the ancient Olympics in Greece, the Olympic torch is carried by runners over thousands of miles until it's finally carried into the opening ceremonies to light the official torch of the Olympic Games. Each year it's a journey of many, many miles. It can be as much as 15,000-20,000 miles. And that's quite a torch run. One person doesn't do that all. I mean, not even I can do that - even though I'm in such great shape! Every Olympic year there are a lot of runners who each carry the torch for a fraction of the journey and then they hand it off to the next runner. We've seen that. In the case of some Olympic Games a few years ago, Coca Cola selected 2,500 of the 10,000 torch bearers that were needed. They accepted nominations from anyone that you might know who you thought was "worthy to carry the torch."

Monday, July 7, 2008

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Once upon a time, there was a heifer named Muffet. She lived on a little dairy farm in the Ozarks. So did my wife - who wasn't my wife then. She was the farmer's young daughter then, and she tells me that Muffet had a harder life than some of the other heifers, but it was her own fault. See, Muffet was a stubborn heifer. Would she stay inside the fence that was there for her protection? Oh no! She found ways to crawl through that fence. Which meant Muffet got a yoke attached to her head - basically a sturdy Y-shaped branch that made it impossible for her to get her head outside that fence. Now, it was a nuisance; a nuisance made necessary by Muffet's stubbornness. Other times, they would try to get Muffet to move, and without serious coercion, she would just plant her feet. Then there was the time she refused to stand still to be milked, and she started to charge toward the door. My wife's Mom - whose job it was to keep the cows inside that little shed - quickly slammed the shovel across the door to keep her in. Well, Muffet ran into the shovel and lost part of the cap on one of her horns. They tell me that from that day on, she went right in and stood there quietly for milking.

Monday, July 1, 2008

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Not long ago I was in downtown Oklahoma City, and had the privilege to visit the scene of the Oklahoma City bombing back in April 1995. I don't think any of us will ever forget the images of the day that that Federal Office Building was destroyed by a terrorist bomb. The images of that devastated building and of the frantic rescue efforts there, of a baby in a fireman's arms. It was a day of heart-wrenching tragedy and it was a day of incredible heroism, too. Literally, an entire city dropped everything to respond in whatever way that they could to this life-or-death situation. The job was clear that day: rescue the dying whatever it takes.

Friday, June 20, 2008

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When I was little, my dad used to drop me off at a nearby church so I could go to the Sunday school they had there. We weren't a church-type family, so what I saw and heard there was all new to me. And I remember this painting they had of Jesus. Now I know it's one of the most famous ones painted in modern times. You may have seen it. Jesus is in a garden, and He's knocking on what looks like a big oak door. The man who painted it was named Holman Hunt. And when he was ready to unveil it for the first time, he called his friends and family together to be the first ones to see it. Well, it was pretty quiet as each person stood there and drank in the deep feeling that that painting conveys. Then people began to comment on what impressed them about it. But one friend said hesitantly, "Uh, Holman - it's a beautiful painting. But didn't you forget something?" "What did I forget?" The friend said, "The handle. There's no handle on the door." To which the artist simply replied, "Oh! No, I didn't forget the handle. When Jesus knocks on the door of your heart, the handle is on the inside."

Friday, June 13, 2008

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This is a true story. It happened on Long Island, just outside of New York City. A little two-year-old girl asked her mommy to drive her to get an ice cream cone. Mom said she was feeling sick and she needed to take a nap. That little girl had a very observant five-year-old brother. After Mom was asleep, he told his sister, "I'll take you." He knew where Mom's car keys were, got them out of her purse, and proceeded to get his sister settled in the car. Then he started the car, backed it out of the driveway, and then slowly drove it to the stop sign at the end of the street. He managed to maneuver the car out onto the main road. It was at that point that a policeman happened to see that car moving down the road, apparently without a driver! That will get your attention! He gave chase until the invisible driver pulled over to the side of the road. Wouldn't you love to have seen the look on the policeman's face when he walked up to the car and saw this little boy at the wheel? Thankfully, this had a happy ending. You know that car was a headed for disaster with that little guy driving!

Thursday, May 29, 2008

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Okay, let's do a little word association here. Persian - what do you think of? Ah - cat? You might have thought of cat. When I hear the word Persian, I think rug - which they don't make out of cats. I've never owned a Persian rug, and I probably never will, but I've sure seen them. And you know it's much more than a carpet, I mean, it's a work of art! Years ago Amy Carmichael wrote about the incredible process that produces these masterpieces. Try to picture this. She described two sets of workmen sitting on a bench on one side of the carpet which is hanging from a beam up above. The designer stands on the other side, he's holding a pattern in his hand and he directs the workers by calling across to them exactly what they're supposed to do next. It's like a chant actually. And then the workman chants back to the designer the word that he's heard; verifying the order. Then the workman cuts from whatever bobbin has been ordered, and he pushes that thread through the carpet warp and knots it. Now, all he can see is that one thread. He sees nothing of that pattern until the carpet's finished. That's all in the designers hands. But when he finally sees what all these commands and all these threads have made, wow!

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