Lab Rats on Drugs

Lately, it seems everywhere I turn - SMACK! (did that make you jump?) - some new story slams me head-on about a terrible tragedy or horrible wrong. Killer tornadoes, school shootings, vicious murders, dying parents. And I’m left here, reeling like one of those lab rats on drugs, trying to figure out how the puffy cloud that looked like a rhinoceros got stuck in the tree that’s walking towards me with evil intentions. And you can just hear the chess players in heaven going, “Um, oops! Better not try that one anymore!” Ever been there?

I remember from our trip to DC walking through the Holocaust museum with that same stunned/drunk sensation. At one point, my mom summed it all up by commenting, “After all this, it’s amazing that the sun still rises.” Isn’t it, though? What could have convinced the sun that it was worth it to sink down into the west every single night, only to come up again on the far horizon with the morning? And without ever sleeping in too! And why does a rainbow always arch through the sky when light hits minute droplets of water just a certain way? Why do daisies insist on popping out of the ground to flaunt their happy little faces to the world year after year?

You know, I have absolutely no idea why. Turns out there’s a lot I don’t know about life and reason and the way things are. But there is one lesson I have learned from the sunrise and the rainbows and the daisies . . . There is hope. Why? Because no matter how things turn out in this world, this world isn’t our home. I have a different home. Everyone who knows Jesus as Savior does. Here. I got inspired and wrote a song about it. You can’t hear the tune, but the words are the point anyhow.

“Home” - verse 1: What is this peace inside/ I can’t describe/ Could it be finally I belong/ Wondering, desperately/ Then You came and You found me/ Now I find every time I’m with You/ You light up my room/ chorus: And I’ve come home today/ Wrapped up in Your arms/ So very safe/ And You are home to me/ With anyone else I could never be/ Home/ verse 2: Loving Your poetry/ Dance in breathless harmony/ Open up the world beyond the skies/ Held by Your eagle’s wings/ You inspire my heart to sing/ Life is so beautiful with You/ You light up my room/ bridge: My heart is Your home/ Your heart is my home/ You light up my room

I would do well to remember that.

The Best Family Vacation Ever!

I have just gotten back home from the best family vacation ever. It was my dad’s 60th birthday, and, thanks to some rather intensive, diligent planning on the part of my sisters, all twelve of us (my parents, six kids, and four spouses) found ourselves spending a week under the happy green trees near Washington, DC.

It was an eye-opening experience into two great things: the founding of this nation and the preciousness of my family. We spent four days gaping with our from-the-back-roads-of-Nebraska mouths hanging open, and thoroughly enjoying our tourist labels. In a blur that I don’t think I’ve quite sorted out yet, we saw Mount Vernon; Arlington Cemetery; the Lincoln, Washington, and Jefferson Memorials; the Capital Building and House of Representatives; the Holocaust Museum; the Vietnam and Korean Memorials; and the Smithsonian. I think that’s pretty much in order. We spent our down-time in the best ways possible: playing cards, fishing, sitting around the campfire, and eating chocolate. Of course.

But if I tried to tell you the whole story, you’d be stuck in front of your computer reading it for the next half hour. So, instead, I’ve just posted some pictures. Do enjoy!

Sorry to all of you to whom I shouted, "Stay there!" while I ran and got my camera. I couldn't resist. :-)


My parents standing in the backyard of Washington's home at Mount Vernon.


Our one and only, quickly released fish. Carp.


My personal favorite: during an interview with yours truly, Kermit the Frog.


The whole lot of us, basking in the sun "down by the Bay."

I Will Remember You

I got to see the mountains the other day. Beautiful, kissing-the-sky mountains, with snow still on top. Not that Nebraska suddenly had a make-over. No, I took a trip out west. To Yellowstone, to be exact. This last weekend, I met my sister and some friends there, and we had a blast. Saw two grizzlies that forded the river and came right up to the road to say hi. I’m just thankful that’s all they decided to say. Then we got to look through some telescopes and see one of God’s most fascinating creatures: wolves. Yeah, we saw wolves. They actually look just like dogs, only it’s amazing to think that they’re wild and free and ferocious and loyal and standing right there. And the best part is we got to see their pups too. At the risk of sounding frivolous, they were SO CUTE!

So, that was our adventure. At least, I thought that was all the adventure.

Then Kristi got in her car, and I got in my car, and we started our 15-hour trek back to good, old Nebraska. Got to the southeast corner of Wyoming and ducked under this enormous pile-up of storm clouds. Then it poured, and we witnessed a dazzling rainbow that decided at the last moment to arc across the entire sky and remind me of God’s beautiful promise: “I will remember you.”

I smiled and drove on, wondering what God had in mind. I was about to find out. The clock was creeping slowly past midnight when Kristi’s car died. Just died. One second it was running; the next it wasn’t. So, we pulled over, stuck our heads under the hood, and said, “Oh, so that’s what a car engine looks like!...Hm. Wonder if there’s anything wrong with it.” After that rather unprofessional analysis, Kristi mentioned that the gas gauge was low. Maybe it was actually empty, not just low. So, we drove to the nearest gas station and picked us up a couple gallons of gasoline. And what’d ya know? It was out of gas. We filled her up and were back on our way.

Or so we thought.

Half an hour later, we spotted flashing emergency lights from two vehicles stopped on the side of the road. As Kristi pulled into the left lane to pass them, she hit a semi’s bumper that had disconnected itself in an attempt to live on the wild side of life. In the fast lane, you might say. Well, all I saw were the sparks flying out the back of her car - and, as soon as we both pulled over, the gasoline spewing out of a badly ruptured gas line. Sparks and gasoline don’t mix well; their personalities are too explosive. We probably should have died that night. Except that God said, “I will remember you.”

We had just passed a towing company not a mile down the road. Because we had an extra car, we were able to drive over and ask for help. It was now past 1:00 in the morning. The mechanic on duty, a guy named David, didn’t have anything else going on and said he’d give it a look. So, he hitched up Kristi’s car to his truck, drove us back to the shop, and started tinkering around with a ripped-up gas line. And he fixed it. MacGyver style. (I looked up how to spell that, by the way.) Should have cost us a few hundred dollars, but when we asked what we owed him, he only said, “However much you think you should pay me.”

Wow.

We were back on the road by 3:30. Both grateful to be alive and again utterly astounded by the God who says, “I will remember you.”

And that was my adventure.

Laugh

We call this one "Missing the Point."