Surprise Baby! (...oh, relax - it's not THAT kind of baby...)

We found a cocoon recently. Clinging to a dead rose bush buried underneath the weeds. It was HUGE - I mean, for a cocoon - and rather funny looking. There was probably a gigantic African Swallowtail butterfly inside. Or something. So, I did what any amateur Einstein would do and clipped off the branch, carried it inside, and stuffed it in an empty Cheeseballs container. We were going to hatch something. Something magnificent.

Two weeks later: Nothing. It didn’t move, it didn’t breathe, it didn’t walk. It was beginning to look a lot like fungus.

I got a bright idea. We’d deprived the unfortunate creature of its natural habitat. Dew from heaven and what not. It was getting all dried out, poor thing, and would never be able to make it without a few squirts from the water bottle. Mission accomplished. A couple more days passed. I began to think that it was changing colors. I began to think I had a big imagination. I began to think maybe we should throw it away.

Then I came down the stairs this morning and saw this:




It was amazing. Possibly even better than an African Swallowtail butterfly. Who knew so many babies could come out of one little . . . cocoon? Hm, they looked kinda hungry. I wonder what they eat. So, I looked it up. Apparently, aphids and fruit flies were on the menu for the day. That sounded hard. So, I looked up a little more. Ah! Here we go.

Raw hamburger meat.

No, really. That’s what it said. So, I tried it. Got out a frozen package and a serrated knife and started sawing away. My dog was impressed, and my arm hurt a little, but the babies didn’t seem too appreciative.

So, where are the one hundred odd praying mantises now? Out. Free. Set loose in the great, wide world to fend off the birds and chipmunks. Off to do war against the ants and hide from the bumble bees. I wish I had a little itty bitty camera to strap to one of them and see life from a mantis’s point of view. Some things are even better than African Swallowtail butterflies. Some things surpass expectations.

Itunes and Charlie

So, now that I’ve found fame for myself by recording a magnificent total of two CD’s . . . eh-hem . . . I’ve begun to get advice as to what I ought to do with my, um, popularity.

“You should make CD’s and sell them at local stores.”

“You should put your songs on Itunes.”

“If you wear make-up on stage, I will beat you up.”

I would like you all to know (well, all of you except the person who said that last one) that I’ve done all of the above. They just seemed like the things to do. Have you ever talked to someone in the music business? They all make CD’s. They all put their songs on Itunes. They all wear make-up. Sorry, Michael W. Smith.

Then I read Charles Sheldon’s “In His Steps.” A book where ordinary people ask an ordinary question and then live out their daily lives based on the extraordinary answer. “What would Jesus do?” As a millionaire, as a newspaper editor, as a business man, as a pastor. As a musician.

Now, let me clarify a few things first. I am not really famous. Facebook paparazzi, go stalk somebody else. (You know who you are.) And musically speaking, I don’t know that much. Dude, I can’t even read music. However, what I do have is an opportunity to take a gift God has given me and make some money off of it. Woo. Sounds a little harsh when I put it that way, huh? “You cannot serve both God and Money.”

I’m not saying Chris Tomlin and Audio Adrenaline and Francesca Battistelli (Does anyone know how to spell her name without looking?) and all the rest of those Christian singers who have ever sold a song on Itunes or charged fifteen bucks for a concert ticket have got it wrong. I only know for myself that I like the example of George Muller (England. Orphanage. Very cool.), and I like the words of Charles Sheldon, and I’d like to understand Jesus a little better. And one way I’ve found to do that is not charge for my music.

Sorry if this makes your life more complicated. It’s making mine more complicated too. I think it’s worth it. Anything that lets us talk more about what God has done. After all, just recently, He’s given me a free plane ticket, exactly $210.85 (thanks, NC dorm girls!!) to take down to Haitian orphans, and the, uh . . . recently discussed unmentionables (see previous post). And all that without me asking any person for a single cent. I think He can take care of me even if I don’t sell my music on Itunes.

Even the Unmentionables

So, I’ve got about two weeks before I fly out to Haiti, and I figure I ought to start packing. Or at least think about packing. My Bible and a toothbrush are at the top of the list. (I had to do without them for three days once, and it was not amusing.) Third in line is . . . well, unmentionables. They’re very important. Invented sometime after the Dark Ages and highly essential, depending on who you ask.

So, my plan was to go to the store and start checking off my list. Of which, unmentionables was at the very top. I forgot to factor in God’s generosity. It never entered my mind that He’d care to cross my list off for me.

This last week was the end of the school year at Nebraska Christian. The dorm girls I’ve been studying, eating, and playing with all year are packing. Did I say packing? That might be an understatement. They are cramming and stuffing and squeezing and crushing their belongings into every last inch of their suitcases and cardboard boxes. But even they can’t fit it all in. So, we’ve started a pile. Let’s call it Mount Everest. It’s a stack of all the things they’ve acquired while here that won’t be making the trip back home.

I’ve seen the stack. It’s quite impressive. But some things never make it to the mountain. Some things get handed straight to me. Like a couple beautiful Chinese silk scarves. Skeins and skeins of colorful yarn. Pens. Chopsticks. And . . . unmentionables. Still in the box. Brand new. Never opened.

Guess what I’m taking to Haiti with me?

I never knew traveling could seem so like walking into the living room on Christmas morning. I’m not paying for my plane ticket or my food or a place to stay. The dorm girls have been randomly handing me money - anywhere from pennies to one hundred dollar bills - ever since they heard I’d be seeing orphans down there. And now even the unmentionables are taken care of! I’m impressed. Who ever said God wasn’t concerned with the details?

Things I've Probably Forgotten to Tell You

I forget things. A lot.

I forgot my birthday once. Passed the whole magnificent day with a bunch of barefoot school children in the blue mountains of Rwanda and never remembered a thing until I wrote the date in my journal that night. I’ve forgotten to tell my friends about the arrival of nephews and nieces. I’ve forgotten directions to a house I’ve driven to dozens of times. I’ve forgotten my phone number. I forget on a daily basis why I walked up the stairs, where I had my phone last, and what month it is. Really, it’s probably easier to learn the facts of my life from facebook than from me. My own sister had to learn I was going to Haiti from someone at church.

Oh, you mean I didn’t tell you either?

Oops.

I’m going to Haiti.

It’s been rather sudden. I’ve only known for a week or so, if that makes you feel any better. I’ve joked a bit over the last few years that the next time someone hands me a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, I’m going . . . Don’t know that I ever really expected it to happen. But it did.

A phone call, an invitation, and a small side note.

*All expenses paid.*

All I have to do is be there.

I guess when God moves, He likes to be flamboyant at times. If I owned the cows on a thousand hills, I’d probably want to be flamboyant too.

So, I’m going down with Adventures in Missions (the same group that we went down with last fall), I’ll be there till early August, it’s all a little vague right now, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Vagueness included.

Don’t worry. I do know more than that: It’s going to be very hot. Electricity’s spotty. Vehicles do not stop for pedestrians. Don’t ask what kind of meat it is. I’m taking my Bible, my guitar, and my toothbrush. And, yes, the mosquitos down there do still have the capability of carrying dengue fever. But you don’t need to fret about that part, because I’m not, and I don’t think God ever was at all.

More info to come.