I realize that 'silence' isn't really an exciting topic, but I am experiencing it for the first time in quite a while tonight, so that makes it special right now. I have been camping with the kids in Quechee Vermont for the past week. We arrived on Sunday so that I could get Patrick to his Raptor Camp first thing on Monday morning, and every morning this week.
For the entire week I have been "on" with the kids - all day, all night, every day, every night. We have had some fun times here, but it takes an amazing amount of mental and physical energy to keep up with them, direct, correct, and protect them, and make sure that they get what they need and some of what they want.
As I think about our week, I find that it's actually been easier to do these things away from home - no distractions. No laundry to worry about (until I get home and the reality of camping laundry comes crashing down around me), no toys to pick up (making the kids play outside keeps the mess down), and little space to clean (although my entire house will be ready for a shake-down when the kids go back to school). I have been free to just *be* here; Be here to play with Katherine while Patrick is off learning about birds of prey. Be here to read a book while Katherine goes on an adventure in the forest behind the camper and Patrick goes fishing. Be here to watch the kids roast marshmallows, burn sparklers, and enjoy the thrills and frills of camping.
For the past few days we have even done these things with friends. But today those friends left for the next leg of a week's journey and now it is...silent.
Silence...I'm not talking about the total lack of audible sounds. I am actually surrounded by sounds; crickets, frogs, grasshoppers, and highway noise, other campers, and the relaxing sound of a campfire cracking. Perhaps what I'm thinking of isn't silence at all, rather a state of stillness. The kids are sleeping peacefully. All the campers around me have gone to bed. All that is left is me and the final flickering flames of my campfire, and the thoughts that tumble around in my head and occasionally spill out on this page.
From the stillness of this evening and the silence that seldom shows its face, I leave you with this:
"He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth; he breaks the bow and shatters the spear, he burns the shields with fire. 'Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.' The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah" ~ Psalm 46:9-11
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
Refining Silver
There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying Chapter Three, they came across verse three which says "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."
This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.
That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.
As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot - then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, how do you know when the silver is fully refined? He answered: "Oh, that's easy - It's finished when I can see my image in it."
Author unknown
(I received this story in an e-mail many years ago. Recently, while recovering files from a computer crash, I rediscovered it and thought I would share it.)
This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.
That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.
As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.
The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot - then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, how do you know when the silver is fully refined? He answered: "Oh, that's easy - It's finished when I can see my image in it."
Author unknown
(I received this story in an e-mail many years ago. Recently, while recovering files from a computer crash, I rediscovered it and thought I would share it.)
Friday, August 28, 2009
Priority Adjustment
I'm a little bit sad this morning.
I woke up feeling chipper and motivated; ready for a fresh new day. Driven by the momentum created in yesterday's productivity I was ready to take on this day with equal amounts of determination to check off still more long-ignored tasks on my to-do list.
Then it hit me; the dramatic, negative end to my day with Katherine and the non-dramatic, uninvolved end to my day with Patrick. The details are unimportant, but I fear that my response this morning as I got ready for this day is telling and it saddens me.
Why is it that as I woke this morning and thought about this day my mind turned toward tasks and objectives? Why not a sad recollection of how yesterday ended with my kids and a resolution to not let this day end the same way? Why am I driven by the tasks of the day rather than the relationships of my life.
I am, once again, reminded of something we often talk about in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers); the tasks will always be there, but these small children will not. Be present while they are.
I think I'm going to go join my kids playing video games.
I woke up feeling chipper and motivated; ready for a fresh new day. Driven by the momentum created in yesterday's productivity I was ready to take on this day with equal amounts of determination to check off still more long-ignored tasks on my to-do list.
Then it hit me; the dramatic, negative end to my day with Katherine and the non-dramatic, uninvolved end to my day with Patrick. The details are unimportant, but I fear that my response this morning as I got ready for this day is telling and it saddens me.
Why is it that as I woke this morning and thought about this day my mind turned toward tasks and objectives? Why not a sad recollection of how yesterday ended with my kids and a resolution to not let this day end the same way? Why am I driven by the tasks of the day rather than the relationships of my life.
I am, once again, reminded of something we often talk about in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers); the tasks will always be there, but these small children will not. Be present while they are.
I think I'm going to go join my kids playing video games.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Thought for Today
I have been away from home for three weeks, beginning at the early part of July. Home for less than a week now I have been tackling pesky little projects (scrub the stove, clean out the refrigerator, clean out the freezers, sort through paperwork) all in the aim to avoid laundry. Alas, according to my socks and underwear drawer, I will *have* to do some laundry eventually, but since it is late and the noise would wake sleeping members of the household I will stick to my office work.
One of the things I found as I have been digging through this daunting pile of papers, receipts, and scrap is a Bible verse that has been given to me as “my” verse for the MOPS year. As I plow through yet more paper, weeks of mail held by the post office while we were gone, and a growing list of things I’d like to do (not to mention the things I *need* to do), I leave you with this thought for today:
“Work with enthusiasm, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people. Remember that the Lord will reward each one of us for the good we do, whether we are slaves or free.” ~ Ephesians 6:7-8
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Looking Back, Planning Ahead
I can’t believe May is already over. Summer is rapidly approaching and between now and then we have school programs, dance recitals, several “lasts”, probably some “firsts”, and lots of planning. But one cannot look forward into June without first looking back at May, especially this particular May for this particular blogger.
You see, this May represented forty years of life. Forty years of ups, downs, forward strides, and missteps. Forty years of learning, teaching, correcting, and being molded. Forty years of joy, heartache, struggle, and laughter. Forty years…forty years…
Turning forty wasn't so bad. My teeth didn't fall out (that started a couple of months ago when I cracked a tooth and had to get a crown – hopefully my last), my shapely body didn't suddenly turn to mush (that has happened gradually over time), and my children didn't suddenly rise up and call me blessed (okay, so we're still working on that one). The sky didn't fall, the sun didn't explode, and Alpha Centauri didn't go supernova. Creation is fine. The sun is fine. The solar system is fine. And life goes on.
Turning forty does bring to mind many thoughts and reflections; what have I done with my life? What do I want to do in the future? It is a great time to evaluate successes and consider the real impact I hope my life has on others. When my service here is done, what will people remember me for? What do I want to be remembered for? Do I want to be remembered for having a clean house, spotless children, and pretty clothes? Do I want people to say, “Oh, that Erika, she knew how to throw a party.”? Or do I want people to say, “Erika loved God, and I know it because…”, or “My mom prayed for me every day…even when I did something she didn’t like.”?
As time passes by so quickly there is an increasing sense of urgency to achieve the things that are really important. Jumping out of an airplane by the time I turned thirty (missed that one) or scuba diving the Great Barrier Reef (still on the Bucket List) are great adventures to think about, plan, and do. But an adventurous life is only part of the legacy that I hope to leave behind. Only now, at forty, I fully understand all those admonitions received in my youth (share your faith, take care of your body, etc.) and urgency with which they were shared with me. NOW I get it. But telling a fifteen year old that their days are numbered is like telling a shark that he might lose his teeth if he bites that surfer…”So what?”
When I was fourteen I put a lot of power in the opinions of others. Now…not so much. I still care…I like to be liked, needed, appreciated…but now I understand that there is a price for my silence. I don’t want my children to pay that price, or anyone I love. So where do I go from here? What do I want my legacy to be? I guess you’ll have to keep reading.
You see, this May represented forty years of life. Forty years of ups, downs, forward strides, and missteps. Forty years of learning, teaching, correcting, and being molded. Forty years of joy, heartache, struggle, and laughter. Forty years…forty years…
Turning forty wasn't so bad. My teeth didn't fall out (that started a couple of months ago when I cracked a tooth and had to get a crown – hopefully my last), my shapely body didn't suddenly turn to mush (that has happened gradually over time), and my children didn't suddenly rise up and call me blessed (okay, so we're still working on that one). The sky didn't fall, the sun didn't explode, and Alpha Centauri didn't go supernova. Creation is fine. The sun is fine. The solar system is fine. And life goes on.
Turning forty does bring to mind many thoughts and reflections; what have I done with my life? What do I want to do in the future? It is a great time to evaluate successes and consider the real impact I hope my life has on others. When my service here is done, what will people remember me for? What do I want to be remembered for? Do I want to be remembered for having a clean house, spotless children, and pretty clothes? Do I want people to say, “Oh, that Erika, she knew how to throw a party.”? Or do I want people to say, “Erika loved God, and I know it because…”, or “My mom prayed for me every day…even when I did something she didn’t like.”?
As time passes by so quickly there is an increasing sense of urgency to achieve the things that are really important. Jumping out of an airplane by the time I turned thirty (missed that one) or scuba diving the Great Barrier Reef (still on the Bucket List) are great adventures to think about, plan, and do. But an adventurous life is only part of the legacy that I hope to leave behind. Only now, at forty, I fully understand all those admonitions received in my youth (share your faith, take care of your body, etc.) and urgency with which they were shared with me. NOW I get it. But telling a fifteen year old that their days are numbered is like telling a shark that he might lose his teeth if he bites that surfer…”So what?”
When I was fourteen I put a lot of power in the opinions of others. Now…not so much. I still care…I like to be liked, needed, appreciated…but now I understand that there is a price for my silence. I don’t want my children to pay that price, or anyone I love. So where do I go from here? What do I want my legacy to be? I guess you’ll have to keep reading.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Slow & Steady
By the long silence on this blog you may be thinking that my journey is over. Have no fear...the journey goes on. I don't always have time to write about it, and sometimes I just don't have any profound thoughts or ideas worth writing about, but I journey on.
Back at the end of February, when Patrick had his winter break from school, he did a science project; a kit for "growing" crystals. You may remember it from the website pictures. It took a little work, but we eventually achieved crystal-growing success; a little bit anyway. The crystals began to form, but it seemed that we weren't going to get the kind of result that was pictured on the box. The growing trays (bottom and lid) didn't fit together just right so as the liquid evaporated the crystals would form on the edge of the cup and then would fall onto the counter, rather than building solid crystalline structures down inside the cup. Here you can see how the crystals formed on the side of the cup. You can also see the pointy "spires" of the solid structure.
We tried a few things to slow the evaporation process, but didn't slow it enough to have the desired effect. In the process, however, we learned some interesting lessons.
Lesson #1: Reading, and following, the directions is critical if you hope to succeed (we did read the directions...carefully). The clearer the directions are (details are good) the better the outcome. The same is true of life. If you read the directions, and follow them well, the odds of a victory are almost guaranteed. The directions that came with this science kit were okay, but they lacked some detail that would have been helpful (like exactly how much of yellow powder to put in the growing cup..."about 1/3" is apparently too vague). Our manual for life (Bible) offers clear directions for building a life that is victorious beyond measure if we just take the time to read it.
Lesson #2: You can't rush the process. Rushing the process only weakens the structure. By allowing the liquid to evaporate quickly the crystals formed in a haphazard fashion. The result, although beautiful to look at, is incredibly brittle crystalline formations. Hair-like branches grow up like little trees, but if you dare touch them or breathe too heavily in their direction, they crumble. The crystals that formed slowly (at the beginning of the project when the liquid was deep and the crystals formed underneath the surface of the liquid) grew into unique crystalline spires; solid and strong. It is okay to handle them because they are seemingly formed with great intention resulting in unwavering structure. Only the most dramatic attack (such as slamming them on the ground) would cause them to break. So it is life. The character formed in haste, with little regard for intentionally forming its structure, is weak and easily broken or misshapen. While the character formed over time, with purpose and care, can weather many of the attacks that life brings.
I would like to think that the little crystals I am growing in the growing cup of life are being formed with great purpose and intention. I hope that they will become solid structures, firm and unwavering, steadfastly fixed on a solid foundation; able to withstand the mishandling, the rough treatment and the harshness that is bound to come. And through all of life they can stand strong and beautiful in a way those hastily formed crystals can only look up to.
Back at the end of February, when Patrick had his winter break from school, he did a science project; a kit for "growing" crystals. You may remember it from the website pictures. It took a little work, but we eventually achieved crystal-growing success; a little bit anyway. The crystals began to form, but it seemed that we weren't going to get the kind of result that was pictured on the box. The growing trays (bottom and lid) didn't fit together just right so as the liquid evaporated the crystals would form on the edge of the cup and then would fall onto the counter, rather than building solid crystalline structures down inside the cup. Here you can see how the crystals formed on the side of the cup. You can also see the pointy "spires" of the solid structure.
We tried a few things to slow the evaporation process, but didn't slow it enough to have the desired effect. In the process, however, we learned some interesting lessons.
Lesson #1: Reading, and following, the directions is critical if you hope to succeed (we did read the directions...carefully). The clearer the directions are (details are good) the better the outcome. The same is true of life. If you read the directions, and follow them well, the odds of a victory are almost guaranteed. The directions that came with this science kit were okay, but they lacked some detail that would have been helpful (like exactly how much of yellow powder to put in the growing cup..."about 1/3" is apparently too vague). Our manual for life (Bible) offers clear directions for building a life that is victorious beyond measure if we just take the time to read it.
Lesson #2: You can't rush the process. Rushing the process only weakens the structure. By allowing the liquid to evaporate quickly the crystals formed in a haphazard fashion. The result, although beautiful to look at, is incredibly brittle crystalline formations. Hair-like branches grow up like little trees, but if you dare touch them or breathe too heavily in their direction, they crumble. The crystals that formed slowly (at the beginning of the project when the liquid was deep and the crystals formed underneath the surface of the liquid) grew into unique crystalline spires; solid and strong. It is okay to handle them because they are seemingly formed with great intention resulting in unwavering structure. Only the most dramatic attack (such as slamming them on the ground) would cause them to break. So it is life. The character formed in haste, with little regard for intentionally forming its structure, is weak and easily broken or misshapen. While the character formed over time, with purpose and care, can weather many of the attacks that life brings.
I would like to think that the little crystals I am growing in the growing cup of life are being formed with great purpose and intention. I hope that they will become solid structures, firm and unwavering, steadfastly fixed on a solid foundation; able to withstand the mishandling, the rough treatment and the harshness that is bound to come. And through all of life they can stand strong and beautiful in a way those hastily formed crystals can only look up to.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Some Days Are Just Like That
Along every journey there will be bends in the road, missed exits, wrong turns, and potholes. Last Friday was one of those "pothole" days.
Patrick had a half-day of school so we thought we would use the afternoon to go up to Cochran's for a little skiing (okay Patrick would ski and Katherine and I would play in the snow). We got there and the parking lots were empty, there were only a couple of people, and the lifts weren't working. We found someone who told us that they didn't open. I had received an e-mail from the school saying that Cochran's would be open and the kids from the ski/ride program (that's Patrick) were invited to spend the afternoon skiing. After three days of above-normal temperatures, rain, and melting, I guess not enough people thought there would be any snow to ski on, so they didn't open.
So, how do I save the afternoon? The kids are suited up to play in the snow. Skiing is out. It was too early to just go to the church for AWANA and going home didn't excite anyone (except maybe me) so we stopped at the Old Round Church where there is a small hill perfect for sledding. At the bottom of the hill was a large patch of ice. On Thursday it was surely a big mushy puddle, but on this cold day it was frozen solid. Patrick wasn't too keen on sledding having mentally prepared for an afternoon of skiing. Disappointment. But, Patrick took his saucer and went for a spin...literally. I started him spinning at the top of the hill and then just nudged him over so that as he flew down the hill he was spinning all the way. He whooped and hollered and laughed all the way down the hill...about fifty times. Katherine played at the top of the hills while Patrick went spinning and laughing down the hill and across that big ice pond. We had a great time until Patrick complained of a headache.
When we were at Cochran's he slipped and fell on a patch of ice, hitting his head. He didn't complain too much so I didn't get excited. I figured his headache was a combination of the bump on the ice and several runs down the hill spinning until he was dizzy. We went to AWANA and had our usual pizza during which Patrick complained more and more about not feeling well and having a headache. He felt bad enough that we finished our pizza and went home. By the time we got home his headache was so bad that Joerg insisted that we go to the hospital to make sure everything was okay, in light of the fact that he had hit his head on the ice when he fell. So, off we went.
Our stay in the emergency room was a little over an hour and the end result was that Patrick was fine from a he-doesn't-have-a-concussion perspective. However, the longer we sat there the higher his fever got (he didn't have one when we arrived) and by the time we left his fever was working its way to 101. After Tylenol and a couple days of rest he was fine. It seems that his headache was related to getting sick, not to hitting his head on the ice. It's not exactly the way I like to end my days (in the emergency room), but then I guess some days are just like that.
Patrick had a half-day of school so we thought we would use the afternoon to go up to Cochran's for a little skiing (okay Patrick would ski and Katherine and I would play in the snow). We got there and the parking lots were empty, there were only a couple of people, and the lifts weren't working. We found someone who told us that they didn't open. I had received an e-mail from the school saying that Cochran's would be open and the kids from the ski/ride program (that's Patrick) were invited to spend the afternoon skiing. After three days of above-normal temperatures, rain, and melting, I guess not enough people thought there would be any snow to ski on, so they didn't open.
So, how do I save the afternoon? The kids are suited up to play in the snow. Skiing is out. It was too early to just go to the church for AWANA and going home didn't excite anyone (except maybe me) so we stopped at the Old Round Church where there is a small hill perfect for sledding. At the bottom of the hill was a large patch of ice. On Thursday it was surely a big mushy puddle, but on this cold day it was frozen solid. Patrick wasn't too keen on sledding having mentally prepared for an afternoon of skiing. Disappointment. But, Patrick took his saucer and went for a spin...literally. I started him spinning at the top of the hill and then just nudged him over so that as he flew down the hill he was spinning all the way. He whooped and hollered and laughed all the way down the hill...about fifty times. Katherine played at the top of the hills while Patrick went spinning and laughing down the hill and across that big ice pond. We had a great time until Patrick complained of a headache.
When we were at Cochran's he slipped and fell on a patch of ice, hitting his head. He didn't complain too much so I didn't get excited. I figured his headache was a combination of the bump on the ice and several runs down the hill spinning until he was dizzy. We went to AWANA and had our usual pizza during which Patrick complained more and more about not feeling well and having a headache. He felt bad enough that we finished our pizza and went home. By the time we got home his headache was so bad that Joerg insisted that we go to the hospital to make sure everything was okay, in light of the fact that he had hit his head on the ice when he fell. So, off we went.
Our stay in the emergency room was a little over an hour and the end result was that Patrick was fine from a he-doesn't-have-a-concussion perspective. However, the longer we sat there the higher his fever got (he didn't have one when we arrived) and by the time we left his fever was working its way to 101. After Tylenol and a couple days of rest he was fine. It seems that his headache was related to getting sick, not to hitting his head on the ice. It's not exactly the way I like to end my days (in the emergency room), but then I guess some days are just like that.
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