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When our older son was little, he would sometimes wander into the living room, crawl into my lap, and snuggle up so close I wasn't sure how he could breathe. One night he looked up at me with those big blue eyes of his and he told me something I've never forgotten. He said, "Daddy, when I'm in your arms, I feel so safe."
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Somehow we managed to surprise each of the three Hutchcraft kids when it came time for their 16th birthday party. Now our daughter's was a Teddy Bear picnic party. (You should have seen all those high school students coming with their teddy bears - even the guys! They really did!) And then the boy's themes were - well, there was the '50s theme, and then there was the Wild West party for another son. Actually, we have always tried to make something special out of the kids' birthdays. After all, your birthday is the only day of the year that's uniquely your celebration. It's always a great feeling to have a party in your honor.
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I've had days when my back felt about 20 years older than the rest of my body. Sciatica is what I think the doctor called it. I just call it "sorebacka." I'm grateful I haven't had a bout like that for several years, but I can tell you that when I wake up crooked, I feel like just staying in bed or in any comfortable position I can find. But I got some good advice. Someone said, "Go for a walk when your back is hurting." Now, let me tell you this, walking is the last thing I feel like doing, but I decided to try it. I walked around our nearby lake, and by the time I returned, the pain had basically gone away. I had to force myself to exercise, but it was exercise that actually made me feel better. Now there's a new scientific study that compared two groups of people with "sorebacka" - one that took it easy and one that exercised. The exercisers reported less pain and more mobility. Now, what you don't feel like doing when you're hurting is what will actually help you stop hurting!
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When we were involved in building a new headquarters for our ministry, I have to confess that was new ground for me. I've been involved in building people my whole life, but not buildings. It became very clear that there is a specific order in which you have to do things. Obviously, you don't just start by having the carpenters show up and start putting up the building. There has to be a foundation laid first. But wait - you can't lay the foundation or start building until you have the detailed plans for the building. Yes, it takes contractors, carpenters, electricians, plumbers, pavers, and heating and air conditioning people. But first, the architect! Without his design, it would be just a mass confusion at the construction site. But thankfully, we had a gifted architect lay out a detailed plan, and things are working well because everyone is going by the plan.
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I was going through a basement closet and I found some buried treasure. Actually, it was a little suitcase filled with the love letters that my wife and I had exchanged over two years of our courtship and engagement - and no you can't see them. It was pretty moving for me, though, to read them again after so many years. As I relived our early romance through those letters, I had an idea, why not put some of these in a scrapbook and give them as a gift to my wife. Small problem: how am I going to do this and keep it a surprise? Well, I set up a partition in the back half of our basement. I moved some big furniture around to further obstruct the view, and I made myself a secret "No Trespassing" workshop! Finally, one day I presented my wife with this book entitled "Chronicles of a Lifetime Love." She had no idea what I'd been working on for her - I did all the work on it, out of her sight!
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We were tooling across the backside of the Navajo reservation in this borrowed station wagon. Actually, some friends had loaned it to us so we could take some of our reservation team sightseeing. We could have gone back on the main road, but the back roads were shorter. So, I checked my gas tank before we set out through these long, unpopulated stretches: three-quarters of a tank - plenty of gas. We went about 30 miles and the car started sputtering to a stop - really in the middle of nowhere - true nowhere! We spent several nervous hours hoping and praying for a way back until this dear Navajo man stopped for us and he drove 60 miles round trip to bring us back some gas. It turned out that our gas gauge was broken. It sure looked like we were almost running on full, but we were running on empty.
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It's amazing how nasty things can get when it comes to settling whose land a certain piece of ground is. We have some friends who have an interest in just such a controversial decision and the stakes are actually pretty high. The judge has to decide who really owns this particular property and then how it should be handled. There's a lot of rumors in the air; a lot of intrigue. Before the legal proceedings start, the judge has suddenly recused himself from that case. In other words, he's stepped down on this one because for some reason - maybe a conflict of interest - he's basically saying, "I don't think I should be the one to judge this one."
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It happened over 40 years ago, but it's one of those events I'll never really forget. It happened in Chicago where I grew up, and it was the most devastating tragedy most of us would remember from that time. It was December 1, 1958, and a fire broke out at the foot of a stairway in the Our Lady of the Angels School. That fire raged out of control very quickly, and it cut off any normal escape routes. Ninety grade school children died in that fire. But there's one I remember vividly from a news account that I read at the time and I still haven't forgotten. This little boy was in a second story window - they had a photo of him. The boy's father was down below, yelling to him to jump into his arms. That boy could see the fire racing toward him from behind, but he refused to jump. Then, in one awful moment, the boy disappeared. He was one of those victims.
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OK, backpacks are basically a good thing. They make it possible for you to carry some essentials while you keep your hands free, right? But backpacks are not always a good thing, especially when you forget you're wearing one! I've seen a lot of the dangerous side of backpacks, especially in airports and airplanes. You see, you get used to your body ending at a certain point, and you navigate through a crowd knowing where the "oops, I bumped you" point is. Now you add a backpack and suddenly you have enlarged what is commonly known as your space, but you continue to navigate crowds and narrow places as if you had the same old parameters. So you got to turn around and "aahh," you clobber someone behind you or next to you! I mean, its one thing to carry your load, it's another thing to hit someone else with it!
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When my airplane flight is over, it's not really over. You see, there's that closing chapter of a trip that you get to spend at baggage claim. At my home airport they have these big carousels where suitcases are dumped out and where they circle until their owners claim them. Now, my bags seem to have a knack for waiting until almost all the other bags are out, for some reason. So I just keep watching those suitcases of all shapes and sizes and conditions appear, and waiting for one I like - no, no, no. I mean, one I recognize. But there always seem to be some phantom bags there. They just keep circling and circling and circling. And since the luggage carousel is all I really have to look at, the show gets pretty boring! Yep, there goes that baggage again!
