Easter

He's alive!

Pinckney Island Adventure

It was a perfect day for an outing - not too hot, not too cold, not too buggy, and with a light breeze blowing - as Jon, Anna, Will, and I set out by foot and stroller for a jaunt on Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge on Friday afternoon, celebrating St Patrick and a day off from work. The island has a gravel road that leads through maritime forest, alongside marshlands, and beyond Ibis Pond. I think there's an old house there somewhere, but I've never made it that far.

Anna and Will alternated rides in our much-loved All Terrain Stroller. We forayed into the marsh, counting periwinkle shells, following deer tracks, trying to peek into fiddler crab "houses" (holes), and discovering a long-lost fiddler crab claw that had been bleached by the sun. The four of us made the loop around Ibis Pond on the easy grass trail (much nicer than the overgrown trail from the last time I was there). The fresh spring green of new leaves graced the trees around the pond, where we greeted coots, grebes, and wood storks. We even spotted a young alligator lazing on the grassy reeds at water's edge (about 15 feet from us).

Finally we went in search of "my" big tree... a huge old live oak tree that has been losing ground to the river for years. It used to be a special place for me to go by myself to be close to God and nature in my pre-family days. The path was much overgrown, but my tree was there, though it has lost more ground. It hangs out over the sandy beach area that is flooded at high tide by the greedy river. Unfortunately Anna and Will are too little yet to appreciate the climbing adventure of my tree with all its curves and twistyness. But we walked along the beach, sheltered by numerous other stretching oaks that cling to the land as the water would carve it from around them. One tree even had an old rope swing of sorts tied to a branch for us to swing upon.

As we walked back to our van, happily tired and hungry from our explorations, the wind blew us along, refreshing my soul once more. It was a perfect outing for a day.

The Picking Of Flowers

The flowers are blooming; the pollen is blowing. Spring has sprung! I love all the flowers of springtime... cheerful colors to punctuate any excursion. Flowers make me smile (maybe someone could tell my husband this?). I like to think of flowers as small reminders to us of the great love that God has for us; He has filled our world with beauty.

It seems Anna and Will love flowers, too. They love to comment on the colors of the flowers, smell the flowers, and, yes, pick the flowers. No flower is safe when my children are around... little flowers, big flowers, wildflowers, neighbors' flowers, flowers at church... you get the idea. Those of you who knew me in college may sense the supreme irony of this situation. I - the one who wanted all flowers to be free, and finally, begrudgingly, picked the tiny yellow flowers from our lawn at the 514 house to preserve their beauty because "Nancy's gonna kill them with the lawnmower anyway" - I now can hardly stop my kids from cutting short the lives of these happy, innocent flowers! And so, because of my love for flowers, I find I cannot toss out even the lowliest little weed that comes into our house, but instead feel obligated to stick it in some water. Currently I have 2 little bowls and 2 little jars crammed with flowers that Anna and Will have picked - plus 1 large bowl that I had to bring out today because of all the azalea blooms Anna collected this afternoon.

Where will it all end? I try my powers of persuasion, appealing to social courtesy (it's not nice to pick the neighbors' flowers), the plight of poor hummingbirds and butterflies with nothing to eat, concern for others (other people want to see the pretty flowers, too), and parental authority (because I said so). And then the sweet little face looks up at me and says with a smile, "I picked these for you, Mommy" (or Will's abridged version of that statement). And I manage to squeeze more flowers into a little jar on the kitchen table.

Rainy Day Story

The other day it was raining when Will and I took Anna to preschool, so we had our umbrellas with us (Anna has a pink Disney princess umbrella, of course!). Coming out of the school, just Will and me, Will wanted to carry Anna's umbrella so, guessing he wouldn't be scarred for life, I let him. He was cute, toddling along under the little umbrella. From my vantage point next to him, all I could really see was the top of the umbrella and his legs. And then I had an epiphany as I realized I was witnessing what must have been Steven Spielberg's inspiration for the movements of E.T. Will's movements were just like E.T.'s - kind of plodding along, carefully holding the umbrella. I've heard before that George Lucas got the R2D2 language sounds from the babblings of a baby. Sure, different movie, but same idea. Hmmm... what other inspiration might come from our little ones?

Hope From My Pocket or "Go Away" - Part 2

And the Matchbox 20 quote (see previous post) also plays on a deeper level, reminiscent of Paul (the apostle). It's the idea of doing what you don't want to do and failing to do what you want to or should do... being your own worst enemy again. In Romans 7 Paul calls himself a "wretched man" and asks who will save him from himself. It's the struggle between our conscience and our sin nature. We know what is good and right and true to a certain extent, and yet we fall so short time and time again. We fail to live up to the standard of holy and righteous and perfect that is somehow (how could that be?) known in our hearts.

But wait, here it comes... enter grace! Paul answers himself in the very next line - "thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord." God knows our failure, our hostility, our sin... and He loves us anyway and makes the way for us to be with Him through the work of Jesus. That's the hope from my pocket - life and peace through Jesus for all who believe. We can't make ourselves go away, but God can make us new.

"Can't Get Myself to Go Away"

"Reach down your hand in your pocket; pull out some hope for me. It's been a long day... and I can't get myself to go away." So sings the band Matchboz 20 in one of their songs. I think that is rather insightful into the human condition. Sometimes we realize we're our own worst problem, but we can't get ourselves to go away. Sometimes I get tired of thinking my own thoughts. I just want my thoughts to be silent (no, I'm not talking about hearing voices!) or to be new and different or to have different issues to think about. It would be fun to trade minds with someone else once in a while, to see what it's like to think completely differently and to deal in a different reality. Maybe trade minds with a great artist or musician, an engineer, a bizillionaire, a pauper, a leader in a different religion, a leader in a different political party, someone on the other side of the world. What would it be like to really experience someone else's thoughts? Refreshing? Terrifying? Humbling? Inspiring? Maybe that's partly why people read books... to get some fresh thoughts on things. Or do we mostly just read what confirms our own viewpoints anyway? Maybe I need a new book.

Living by Faith

Everyone lives by faith in something - whether we are theist, agnostic, atheist, whatever. Some of us look at the world around us - the majesty of the mountains, the complex interconnectedness of the estuaries, the amazing intricacies and complexities of our own human bodies - and put our faith in a Creator God who designed it all in His great wisdom. Others of us look at the same phenomena and put their faith in chance - the great cosmic accident that brought us to this place. Either way, it's a step of faith. Science, at its core, is about theories, hypotheses, experiments, and observable results. How the world and everything came to be is beyond the scope of science; it cannot be proven or duplicated or even verified. There are theories about the universe that appeal to different people depending on their presuppositions. Let's not make the foolish mistake of claiming that intelligent, thinking people can only reach one conclusion (as Bill Maher would likely say). There are brilliant and foolish minds in every camp. It seems faith is not so much a matter of reason as it is a matter of the heart... can you dare admit there may be someone so much greater than yourself, someone you owe your very existence to? We all have faith - faith in God, faith in chance, faith in our own efforts and cleverness. Where is your faith?