Leaving the Race to the Rats

I am thankful for TIME. Time is more precious than money, for no one can trade for it, save it, or buy even a minute of it. Every person alive will have 24 hours--1440 minutes, 74,400 seconds--in their gift package of Today. Yet Time is something we casually waste, even brag about killing. At the very least, most of us are Abusers of Time. We take small chunks of it and expect to cram impossible amounts of Things to Do in it, always feeling pressure that we somehow weren't allotted ENOUGH. Time Gluttons, we are never satisfied, always lusting for more. MORE. The older we get, Fat on Time and Rich in Days, the more attention we pay to its pace. The ticking seems louder and the hands spin faster around the face of our clocks every year. We look back and regret how much of it we've squandered and look forward anxious about how much is left. The question is, "Why?" Why do we wish for more? What would we do with more than we are doing with this Gift of Today? As you and I sit, perched on the edge of a new day, let us consider this: How about if we just fully live Today? Let's not wolf it down, swallowing without chewing, but intentionally slow down and SAVOR it. Let's toss out our To Do Lists. For one day, we won't tell ourselves (or others) how BUSY we are. I am as tired of hearing it from you as you are hearing it from me You are no more busy than I am. I have the same amount of time in this day as you do. The real question that needs to be answered is, "What will we do with This Gift of Today?" People talk about Living in the Moment. What if we really did that today? What if we fully lived in 1,440 moments? What if, for today, we let go of yesterday and tomorrow? What if we took tiny bites of THIS day, chewing and noticing, appreciating and ingesting everything that comes to us in each mouthful? Jesus came to give us abundant life--a life that is full of purpose and meaning--a life that satisfies the deepest longing of our souls until Time is of no consequence. (John 10:10) Don't be in a hurry. Don't be distracted. Don't be robbed. Don't miss it.

Apples of Gold in Settings of Silver

I am thankful for words--vehicles that deliver images, convey deep emotion, render dimension to amorphous concepts. Words can be used as weapons and have the power to wound, kill, and destroy. But greater still is their power to create, heal, give life. In the beginning, God SPOKE and the clock started ticking. God spoke the stars and galaxies into existence with His words. The Word was with God in the beginning and everything that was made was made by Him. Then, at the perfect moment in time, God spoke Incarnation and the Word appeared on our planet wrapped in human skin--the perfect visual message in a language mortals could understand. This Word of God bled and died, taking the punishment that was ours so that by our own utterance of His name, one word--JESUS--we can receive light and grace and salvation. Consider, today, the thousands of times you will push air from your lungs, past larynx, over formed lips and tongue into the hearing of others. Pause before you do and consider the listener. Is what you are about to say good? Is it necessary? Helpful? True? Use this wonderful gift wisely and with thankfulness!

Season by Season

Walking down the sidewalk in sunshine this afternoon, I was freshly impressed by the carpet of perfect, bright yellow leaves underfoot; their vibrant hues exploding upon my retinas. I love the way they rest, scattered like so much inconsequential confetti after a blow-out party. The random stragglers remaining on the trees glow opaquely, backlit by the sun as luminously as stained glass in the most ornate cathedral. I absorb the soft, diffused light, the crispness of the air, the damp, earthy scent of withering flora. Season by season, God makes his faithfulness known and displays his splendor to all who will but take note. 

Photo by Amy Synstelien Garvin

The Wisdom of the Innocents

My introduction to the cruelty of life came at a young age. My two sisters and I were given three baby bunnies one summer which we named Petunia, Sweet Pea, and Tar Baby. For weeks we coddled our wee bundles of fluff, wrapping them in doll blankets, toting them everywhere we went, feeding them treats of grapes and peanut butter crackers. By fall, when we headed back to school, the novelty of our pets had worn off and they spent more and more time in their joint pen where they grew into adult rabbits who mated and gave birth. Discovering the new babies was not the Disney Experience you might expect but more of a Bunny Holocaust: The naked, newborn bunnies were tiny and perfect--right down to their miniature noses and eyelashes. And they were also bloodied and half-eaten; victims of their own witless, clueless mothers who greeted us with their usual enthusiasm, looking for treats.

Sometimes, it takes a child to give voice to what adults shudder to acknowledge. I recall a story from years ago, of a mother who had inadvertently left out a pamphlet of information on abortion that contained graphic images of aborted fetuses. Her toddler discovered the pamphlet and brought it to her mother and asked with a furrowed brow, "Who broke the baby?"

The little girl was too young to know that what she was seeing, human body parts, was "not actually a baby, but a fetus, a mere blob of flesh" torn from the uterus of a woman who did not welcome it. She was too young to know that a decision whether to "continue the pregnancy" was a "personal matter between a woman and her doctor." She did not know that human life is valuable and protected only when children are planned and wanted. She did not know that the country in which she lives is hotly divided by this issue of the Right to Choose, precluding any rights of personhood the child itself may deserve. She did not know that babies can be legally crushed and torn limb from limb out of their mother's bodies until the day they are due to be born, and it is not considered a crime. This little girl's brain was not muddled with political correctness. All she knew was someone had broken a baby.

Like this child, there is much I don't understand in our world. Just as I could not fathom a momma rabbit killing and eating her own young, I do not understand the female gender of my species. I do not understand women who fight for equality with men in every respect forgetting that they have an ability no man could ever possess--the gift to conceive, nurture, and bear life. Only a woman will ever experience the wonder of an unborn baby's hiccups or midnight gymnastics. Only she will know the thrill of pushing that person from her body into the world and hearing his first cries. It is a privilege that defies description! If it were only men who were lobbying for abortion rights, I could maybe understand--they might feign ignorance based on lack of experience. What could they know about the wonder of cohabiting the same body as another? And yet women, in defense of women's rights, are militant about permitting the choice of other women to kill their innocent unborn children. How can they not defend the tiniest, weakest souls among us who have no voice? How can other women turn away and stay silent? Where is the maternal instinct in humanity? Are we so cultured, so wise, so beyond something as base as reproducing other humans? Where is nurturing? Where is tenderness? Does this not go against everything that is sane?

Oh, that we would ask a toddler what is right!

I am convinced that any girl/woman considering abortion would think twice if she got to see what was really going on inside her womb. What if she could see that child opening and closing his fingers or sucking his thumb? Or what if live abortions were shown on cable TV channels just like other routine surgeries in reality programming? You know why they aren't. Abortions are not like any other surgeries and we instinctively know it! We want to keep things secret and private so the reality of the horror is known only to a select few which have somehow managed to override their own consciences. Today I watched an older movie clip on YouTube called The Eclipse of Reason. Charlton Heston gives the introduction and then a physician who formerly performed abortions talks the viewing audience through an actual abortion as seen through a fiber optics camera inserted into a woman's uterus. You see the child's limbs torn from his torso as blood fills the uterus. The 12 oz baby is extracted piece by piece and reassembled like a puzzle on a sterile tray to make sure they "got everything." I had to turn away in tears. I could not watch.

What will it take for people to see this "procedure" for what it is? Where are the mothers and why aren't they crying out against this horrid practice? Where are the doctors whose goal must be to preserve all life? We cringe as we hear accounts of ancient civilizations who tossed children into active volcanoes or sacrificed them on the fiery arms of stone idols. Oh, the horror of genocide and gas chambers and medical experimentation that we read about in history books and see on CNN. Yet our crime is worse! We clamor for animal rights and gay rights, and decry everything that smacks of discrimination in one breath; and then, in the name of human rights and choice, we allow hundreds of our children to be chopped to pieces every day for convenience and profit. How can we call ourselves an intelligent, civil society and why is there is no media and public outcry?

There is a murder trial currently taking place which ought to be the story of the century. A doctor and his staff are accused of killing countless infants who survived his abortions, and permanently maiming women in a Philadelphia clinic. Reading accounts of the charges against him, it appears the man is more a butcher than a doctor. Babies born living were beheaded and discarded without a thought. This physician's specialty was late term abortions. He joked about his victims--one whom was so far along (30 weeks)--he quipped, "That one was big enough to walk himself to the bus stop!" And it wasn't only babies that died at his cruel hands, but their mothers as well. Why isn't the rage first and loudest from supporters of "choice?" Surely this is not what Planned Parenthood and its supporters had in mind: A woman who bled to death because of medical negligence and others who were severely damaged and rendered sterile when they said matters such as these are every woman's right? And you must realize that half of all the babies aborted are also female...what about their rights?

Whenever debate about abortion comes up, there are always the exceptions that are showcased: What about rape and incest? What about when the health of the mother is at stake? I daresay these situations comprise a very small percentage of abortions performed every day. The more common scenarios are repeat procedures requested by women who have come to regard abortion as a viable form of birth control. You have to wonder why this is so since we continually inundate our young people with sex education and free contraceptives. Why is pregnancy the common "surprise" that it is? An unplanned pregnancy of any kind should be the exception rather than the hundreds that are terminated every day considering all the information and prophylactics we have at our disposal.

So here's the deal--I am actually pro-choice. Yes, you heard me correctly: I believe a girl or a woman should have a choice. She can choose to abstain from activities known to produce children, or she can take measures to lessen that possibility. Suppose, despite the best the pharmacy has to offer, she still finds herself pregnant? Good news--more choices: Pregnancy is a limited condition lasting only  nine months. To her advantage, there remains but a vestige of the shameful stigma once associated with a woman's unplanned pregnancy. Religious and secular organizations alike stand ready to offer women assistance with health care, emotional and physical support, counseling, even job training both during and after the pregnancy whether she chooses to raise her child or gift it to someone waiting to adopt. A woman has many choices with regard to her body and sexuality. Murder should not be one of those options.

To all the broken babies of the world--I am sorry. I am sorry for a culture that considered you a burden and not a blessing. I'm sorry that the warmth and comfort of the only home you ever knew was not the place of safety it should have been. I'm sorry there were no loving arms and smiles to welcome you into our world. My heart breaks for all you have missed; the middle-of-the-night cuddles, the sweet smell of baby shampoo on your downy heads, the fleecy-softness of baby clothes, the sunshine on your cheeks, the rattling purr of kitties, the first taste of ice cream. I'm sorry millions of us missed out on the chance to be your mommies and daddies. You did nothing wrong. You did not deserve this. Please forgive us. God help us.

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 This photo was taken in 1999 when a surgeon was operating on an unborn baby named Samuel whose gestational age was 21 weeks. The surgeon was correcting a hole in the baby's spine. You can see the baby reaching out his tiny hand and grasping the surgeon's gloved finger as if to thank him. Not a person?

Teach the Children Well

Human beings live in a collectively progressive society. Each generation builds on the trial and error successes of the generation that preceded it. Thankfully, my generation didn't have to figure out how to harness electricity in order to put computers in every home. Engineers at GM don't have to reinvent the wheel every year before they can bring out the newest automobile models. We are continually building on the ideas and experiences of others. We teach general principles today that were unknown a decade ago. Toddlers who are barely verbal pull Smart Phones out of their mothers' purses and know how to find the game apps they want. Yet we cannot progress without first looking back.

Any reading through the early books of the Old Testament will give you numerous references to the building of altars. Abraham built altars to remember promises, to give thanks, to celebrate victories. So did his sons Issac and Jacob. One of my favorite accounts of an altar assembled is found in the book of Joshua, chapter four. Joshua was the new leader of the Israelites, taking over where Moses had left off. What difficult shoes those were to fill! God wanted to show His people that He was with Joshua just as He was with Moses. So He performed a miracle, allowing them all to cross the Jordan (during its seasonal flood stage) on dry ground. Keep in mind, none of these people were alive when Moses parted the Red Sea so this was a big deal. God didn't want them to forget this event so He gave Joshua instructions on what to do next and Joshua followed them.

"So Joshua called together the 12 men he had appointed from among the people of Israel. There was one man from each tribe. He said to them, “Go back to the middle of the Jordan River. Go to where the ark of the Lord your God is. Each one of you must pick up a stone. You must carry it on your shoulder. There will be as many stones as there are tribes in Israel.“The stones will serve as a reminder to you. In days to come, your children will ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ Tell them that the Lord cut off the flow of water in the Jordan River. Tell them its water stopped flowing when the ark of the covenant of the Lord went across. The stones will always remind the Israelites of what happened there.”

My father was a young boy the day World War 2 ended, and he vividly recalls adults crying and church bells ringing. But when I arrived on the set, less than two decades later, that conflict seemed like ancient history to me. While I was a newborn, our country came dangerously close to nuclear war with Cuba and I have no memory of it. As my own children were growing up in the 80's, America was embroiled in a fearful Cold War with Russia that they know little about today. And my sweet grandchildren were not yet born on the unforgettable 911, and children not much older than they have asked me, "What does that mean? Who attacked our country?" I blink at them in disbelief. We can lose the importance of something so significant in less than ten years--to say nothing of a generation! God knows our propensity to forget. Life-changing events, even the miraculous, get watered down in our memories over time--certainly in the retelling to folks who weren't around to see them firsthand. The building of altars and monuments of remembrance is an old tool to keep alive precious memories. It's why people erect gravestones, build monuments to remember great battles.

Today our country observes Veterans Day, a day of remembrance, where we honor those who have fought for our country and our freedoms. Many will gather at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington Cemetery to remember those who died, with no monument of their own, because their sacrifice matters. People who forget God and forget what others have given for them are people who are not thankful. It is our job as parents, grandparents, and teachers, to make sure our children remember that the world did not begin the day they were born. We need to teach them about the blessings and responsibilities of freedom and the threats of bondage, both spiritual and cultural. God has a remedy for this if we will but diligently employ it:

"Write these commandments that I’ve given you today on your hearts. Get them inside of you and then get them inside your children. Talk about them wherever you are, sitting at home or walking in the street; talk about them from the time you get up in the morning to when you fall into bed at night. Tie them on your hands and foreheads as a reminder; inscribe them on the doorposts of your homes and on your city gates.When God, your God, ushers you into the land he promised through your ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to give you, you’re going to walk into large, bustling cities you didn’t build, well-furnished houses you didn’t buy, come upon wells you didn’t dig, vineyards and olive orchards you didn’t plant. When you take it all in and settle down, pleased and content, make sure you don’t forget how you got there—God brought you out of slavery in Egypt." Deut. 6

If we neglect our responsibility to teach these truths to our children, the result will be disastrous. The next generation will forget that everything they have is a gift. They will forget that they stand on the shoulders of others who sacrificed and worked and, in turn, stood on still other shoulders. They will forget that we are a blessed, privileged people who could not begin to earn the bounty we enjoy. Make sure the children know. Teach them to thank God. Teach them to thanks others, beginning with your nearest veterans.  

Let us never forget. Give thanks.

Recycled History?

I find history fascinating. Yet the interpretation of history is hindered by our own brief lifespans. As individuals, it is hard to separate our personal existence and experiences from the distant past, making us very near-sighted at best. One lifetime is not enough to see full cycles complete, to witness a nation rise and fall, to know if the ice caps are actually melting or there is a harmless warming trend going on, like countless others, before man ever thought to record them. We have been brought up to think America is utterly invincible and permanent based on what we perceive as God's blessing and/or our own inherent wisdom and goodness. It is obvious there is an Enemy Without that hates America and would like nothing more than to see its collapse. But the real threat is the Evil Within. It is far more insidious and frightening because we are so familiar with it we don't recognize the threat until it's too late; like a cancer that thrives in a body, eventually crowding out and destroying all healthy function, because its cells don't detect an invader and won't defend itself. The death and decay of a society can take generations--centuries--while its members never see it coming. Increasingly, I feel a heightened concern for the US of A. Ideals we hold dear are not automatic and guaranteed. The following quote is copied from a Facebook status of a close friend. It is a call to consideration, to alertness, to prayer.

In 1887 Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at the University of Edinburgh, had this to say about the fall of the Athenian Republic some 2,000 years prior: "A democracy is always temporary in nature; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government. A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse over loose fiscal policy, (which is) always followed by a Dictatorship.

The average age of the world's greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, these nations always progressed through the following sequence:

-From bondage to spiritual faith;
-From spiritual faith to great courage;
-From courage to liberty;
-From liberty to abundance;
-From abundance to complacency;
-From complacency to apathy;
-From apathy to dependence;
-From dependence back into bondage."

 

Help is needed. And not from any political party.

Unstuffed Crockpot Cabbage

I promised to deliver some easy, versatile meals to help you in your busy life. Here's a favorite my husband asks for weekly which only requires three ingredients for the basic version:

Start with one small cabbage. Wash, core, and cut into wedges. Pile it into a greased crock pot. 

Brown a pound and a half of lean hamburger in a nonstick frying pan over med/hi heat. You may add onions and garlic to this step. Salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the cooked, drained meat over the cabbage chunks in the crock pot.

Open two med/lg jars of spaghetti sauce and pour over the meat. (We prefer Prego to all other brands and nobody pays me to say that.) Cover the crock and cook on low/med all day. That's it! Serve over hot, cooked white or brown rice.The above recipe makes a lot and tastes just like stuffed cabbages without all the work. I can't tell you how it freezes because we can't leave it alone long enough to need to extend its Fridge Life.

Now, for the variations: You might like to toss on some cheese a few minutes before serving. This may pacify children who could be suspicious of the cabbage. Anything would work--mozzerella, parmesan, even cheddar. I like to slice up one or two peppers and add them the last hour. This makes the dish resemble stuffed peppers--again, without the fuss. I would imagine that sliced zucchini or mushrooms would also be fabulous. Last, experiment with what you serve the cabbage over. Pasta, quinoa, and couscous come to mind as possibilities. Enjoy!!!