Louie and the Wolf

Riding the indoor trainer is a last resort.  When running or cycling outside is unusually impractical, I'll spend an hour sweating it out on the exercise bike.  I'm not sure that these contraptions weren't present in the Gulags or Japanese prison camps - they are torture to the mind (and body) if you have the fortitude to make it so.

My diversion in the past has been a sort of documentary I found on Hulu, Battlefront, a series of 30 minute episodes chronologically portraying the phases and battles of WWII using veterans' interviews and a bunch of old black and white footage.  I found it to be interesting, as did Ella, to the chagrin of my wife.  As the GI's charge across the Solomon Islands, I pour sweat too, following along on my bicycle. Bombs crash, airplane engines drone overhead, and the cranks of the trainer creak as I push the resistance up one more level to keep up.

But they seem to have pulled the series from Hulu.  Last time I rode the trainer I settled for a series of documentaries on how they record various outdoor extreme sports such as Heli-skiing, Downhill Mountain biking, etc.  Interesting enough, but for this morning, Sunday morning, I needed something more likely to prepare me for worship.

I've seen Louie Giglio's presentations in the past on YouTube, and his being the only name coming readily to mind, I started searching for a presentation that was about an hour long.  51:22 for one titled Symphony (I Lift My Hands) seemed good enough, so I started spinning and hit play.  Louie Giglio is an accomplished communicator and is doing a great job connecting with today's youth, but he also managed to communicate with me.  If you've been connected to the internet for much time at all you've likely come across his presentation of the stars, whales, and Chris Tomlin singing How Great is Our God together.  It's spine tingling and likely to cause one of those goofy grins that you realize too late, but only because you see everyone else wearing the same expression.

That same presentation was integrated into this video, and so I nearly stopped it and looked for something new and different - but I had to let him finish the song.  I'm glad I did because the remainder was a challenge to live a life of worship.  I won't spoil the video since I think you should watch it for yourself.

But why am I pushing a YouTube video?  Because it was just what I needed.  Friday, we spoke via conference call to the mother of a little boy - yet to be born.  Her life and ours seem to have been chosen by God to meet for that fireside chat Bec wrote about last time.  The tiny, developing baby boy that she carries now, will - God willing - someday be our son.  We've started signing papers and making lists. The blizzard seems to have lifted momentarily - just as long as we don't think about it too much.

If we carry the blizzard analogy forward, there is now another element.  A black shadow now darts in and out among the trees as we plunge ahead.  Why didn't I see him sooner?  This malignant wolf obviously has my scent.  I know his name.  Anxiety.  We've met before.

Over 4 years ago he shredded me as I tripped along the path toward the delivery of our 2nd daughter.  The loss of our son Ezekiel, and the passing of a friend's wife at the delivery of her baby put the beast on my scent from the instant Bec showed me the positive test.  Anxiety nearly ate me alive then, and has been nearby ever since.

I needed that video.  The wolf is padding through the shadows again, and I could really use some ammunition.  Why didn't I see him sooner?  Because the blizzard was too much, and all I could do is look for the right path.  Now the path is more clear...and so are a lot of other things.  The mother of our son has a name.  She has needs.  We have a due date.  We have needs.  The pitfalls ahead are innumerable, and that hound has begun pointing them all out in an effort to get us off the path.

I could really use some ammunition.  I got it this morning.  Worship.

BLAM!

I hit him this morning with the biggest shell at my disposal.  Anxiety stumbled and plowed a furrow in a drift before howling off into the woods.  It felt good to shoot back.  Worship packs a punch.  But I'll be out of ammunition soon, I realize, and will need to get more.  In another video?  No, I didn't get that ammunition from the video - I got it from God's Word.  Yes, Louie let me borrow some of his ammo, shared with me through a video, but there is an endless supply right now within arm's reach.

Supplied with ample shells found neatly arranged between the brown leather covers of an ancient book, I intend to blast that old enemy again and again.  I've known that I have the upper hand on Anxiety and can conquer it at any time by tapping into God's infinite supply of peace and strength.  Yet, a simple message was necessary to remind me of what I already know.  I hope you can benefit from it too.

Blizzard Clarity

Clarity - We have some.

Hope that clears things up for ya!

I'm not sure where to begin in telling what God has done through our adoption journey over the last few weeks. . .not sure if it's really necessary to say anything more than, "WOW, our God is amazing!"  That's a fact, but it's especially poignant when He allows us to catch glimpses of that fact.

We've had the driest winter since we moved to California 12 years ago, while many of our family members and friends have endured record-breaking snow and ice storms in the East. This has me thinking how glad I am that I don't have to go out in that mess anymore! Though it has been at least 15 years since I last drove in the snow, I well remember trying to see between snowflakes that reflect headlights with the intensity of the sun. Not fun. Our adoption journey is much like that right now, though a bit more exciting. . .and less life-threatening. :-)

I think of how God has somewhere sent a budding mother on a journey to find us in a terrible blizzard; and at the same time, He has sent us on a journey to find her in that blizzard.  We don't know who she is or how to find her, but He knows right where she is, and He's leading us to the people who know her and can help us. For the last month-and-a-half we have searched diligently for someone to help us find her. We thought we had found that guide, and then we didn't. We almost signed a contract with another guide, but suddenly it looked like maybe we already found her. . .which we hadn't, but then again, maybe we had. Wait, are you as confused as I am?  God's little blizzard blows us along.

Back a few weeks ago, I was a bit disheartened and weary in the journey--yes, already. My once crystal-clear vision for the end of this journey became rather cloudy, and I began to wonder if we had misunderstood. So I kinda pulled a Gideon. "Lord, I'm pretty sure you have the wrong gal, and it would be great if you'd show me that you are leading us on this journey, and we're not going to battle this storm with misguided good intentions. I could use some serious clarity here!"

And He delivered.

The delivery did not come immediately... it took at least a couple of hours for the email to come.  (Ha! Do you need any more proof that God still speaks in the 21st century?)  That unexpected email was the encouragement Scott and I needed to take another step in obedience. Over the last three weeks, that has been what we have done--take the next step, and the next (after another completely unexpected email--are we seeing a trend here?). And now. . . hmmm, here we are, right back to where we were three weeks ago--although with more confidence in our purpose and more appreciation for the patient Shepherd who is guiding us through the blinding snow.

Our Psalm 23 Shepherd, unbothered by the storm, walks quietly with us, knowing right where she is (He is with her, too, after all) AND knowing how we are going to find each other. We can't wait to meet her and warm up by the fire with her, before we head back out into our separate but connected blizzards.

Do I Clearly Understand Why I Want To Adopt

Warning:  The following paragraphs periodically slip into philosophical meanderings.  Read at your own risk, and if you're inclined to skim - maybe skip this one.

Bec and I were hip-to-hip on the couch with our computers on our laps researching adoption at double time. We joke to our friends that we only ever communicate via email, and I must admit that even sitting side by side it was tempting to send her links to the pages I was perusing.  We sat together for 2 hours straight - without a movie; a certain record for the books.

But we were on a mission and, true to form, were researching like the future of the galaxy depended upon our conclusions.  We do this with dishwashers, hotels, and Hondas so it stands to reason that adoption should get its share of screen time.  Bec's contribution to the research is ordinarily infinitely greater than my own, and the same here is true.  I prefer the executive summary, but on this issue it has come time for me to do some of my own digging.

Do I clearly understand why I want to adopt?

Well that question stood me on my head for moment.  I stared at it awhile, and then scrolled down to the other questions.

• Does my lifestyle allow me the time necessary to meet the needs of children?
• Have I discussed adoption with all my family members, including my children?
• Do I have support systems to help me after I adopt, or do I know where to find them?

Ok, easy enough - Yes, Yes, and Yes.  But that first question was still sitting up there with the ever-blinking cursor awaiting my response.

This is something that I have been putting out of my mind for a few months, because I knew an honest answer would not be a short and simple one, and before I could answer this to the rest of the world, I needed to sort it out for myself. After bumping her elbow to get her attention, having resisted the urge to send an email, Bec glanced at my screen and to my surprise, sat there unable to answer the question either.  We chatted it out for a few minutes and then pulled out of our separate stations on our separate trains of thought. Yet the question haunted me for days, and I soon discovered that it stuck with her too.  I offer some of my thoughts here, though I caution you that a resolution may not emerge herein.

Let me begin by asserting that the answer to the question "Do I clearly understand why I want to adopt" isn't as simple as you might think; at least not for us. In looking at our lives from the exterior, you may, if you know us, assume that you know why we are pursuing adoption.  I congratulate you for coming to the answer before we have.  May I humbly submit, that you may be mistaken.

Yes, we have experienced 3 miscarriages in less than 4 years - but that has only proven how painful attachments can become.
Yes, we would like to have had another child - but we are content with our family as it stands.

Yes, we care deeply for the orphaned children around the world - but we care about the elderly, the widows, the sick, and the impoverished.  Pick your "good cause" and we can likely join hands with you to support it.

Yes, the Bible says that true religion is to care for the widows and orphans - but alas it also says to love your neighbor as yourself.  Not doing so good on the latter one, so why be so attentive to the former?

There are countless good reasons for us to adopt a child, but none of them can answer the question as to why WE are preparing to do so.  These are not the why behind our decision to adopt.  Frankly the why is the sticking point.

Thinking logically:

Why would I add this huge potential disappointment into my life?

Why would I spend all of this money?
Why would I spend all of this time?

Why would I commit to the full execution of maintaining the well-being of another human for nearly 20 years?  Think about it, a 20-year commitment and possibly a lifetime if that new member of the family cannot leave our nest.  Did you think about this as your first child was in the womb?  I did.  I have one daughter that is 10 years old - halfway there; and another one 4 - nearly a quarter of the way there.  I'm well underway with sails unfurled, lurching toward fulfillment of my commitment.  Or so my logical and more selfish side reasons.

We have some understanding of loss and pain.  Do we think that makes us fit to be adoptive parents?

We are decent, God-fearing people.  Does that make us fit?
We are financially stable.  Does that even have anything to do with it?

I ruminated on each aspect of my willingness to adopt and realized that there was no unifying theme.  I am willing, able, prepared, informed, and a handful of other predicate adjectives.  But still no answer to the question of why?

I've heard that the solutions to many problems can be found very near the source of the problem.  This was - in part - the case for me as I clicked from one link to the next.  The nuts and bolts of adoption were becoming more clear.  I was for the first time putting effort behind a good idea, a concept, an overflow of Bec's vision, a noble cause.  So as I sat on the couch I began to feel for the first time what Bec must have been feeling for some time now - sadness.  I began to read stories about children without families.  I would stop periodically and listen to the chaos coming from my daughter's room and let the sadness take a still stronger hold.  My happy little girls...  I read a brief statement from a 16-year-old girl who said that she prays every night that someone will come and be her parents.  In 2 years she will age out of the foster care system and never know...  I paused again to listen to my 2 girls and let the sadness soak in.  Bec told me about the several-year wait that many Chinese children endure as the bureaucracy churns.  

So is this why I want to adopt?  The lump in my throat and my welling eyes - are they in contact with the why?  Maybe we're getting closer.  The sadness is certainly another wedge that is opening my heart wider and giving strength to the willingness and desire to take this path.  But no, this is not why.

I must confront my motives honestly, and thus I can only begin to describe the reason why, and I can only do so with hesitation, because I don't suppose to know the reason why behind anything that happens during this short time we dash whirling through the galaxy.  "Why" is that ever nagging question which the Society of Skeptics (In which I hold membership) all want answered by others, but are supremely hesitant to answer to others.  "Why" touches the metaphysical, the psychological, the sociological, the chemical core of life, the center of which has never, for any of those pursuits been discovered or even approached.  Metaphysics has myriad religions while psychology, sociology, and the physical sciences have mostly theories.  The brightest, noblest, soundest minds across millenia have failed to answer the question "why" at just about any level.  Yet I presume to respond to this "do you understand why" inquiry and uncover the reason for having made a certain decision.

If I begin to sound as if I stand on shaky ground, then recognize that I live in tectonically active California and accept my hearty agreement.  I run far around certainties, because so many have crumbled into uncertainty leaving chaos and confusion for the zealots to pick through.  My wife has labeled me "jaded," and may find some adhesive for it, but I personally prefer "cautious."  So why am I so certain that embarking on this adventure of adoption is the right path?

Faith.

It's really as simple as that.  I believe that Jesus is the Son of God - by faith.  I believe that God created the world - by faith.  I believe that good is the inevitable result of persistent pursuit of God's revealed truth - by faith.  You shouldn't ask me why.  If I knew why, it wouldn't be faith.

I believe that this path toward adoption is our path - by faith.  The confirmation will come as we turn each corner and see the path continuing to wind away ahead of us.  But then, it will always wind away, now won't it?  I return to Frost's words often, "I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."  God assures us that He will never leave us nor forsake us.  That means that somewhere ages hence when I look back, I will see us having taken the path of His good plan.  I WILL NOT see the why - at least not until we stand amazed in His presence.  But, I will see that by faith I followed His path, and in it, goodness was found.

The decision to take a "road less traveled," can be daunting.  Yet, we are learning that "why" must not necessarily be answered in order to decide.  I was listening to a song on the radio the other day and it occurred to me that the lyricist must have understood this concept as I am beginning to understand it.

Jesus in Disguise is a song that reminds us that Jesus can do His work through us.  It is a suitable reminder to allow the Holy Spirit of God to walk, talk, and love through us.  The lines that made me think were at the beginning of the second verse:

Ever feel like you've been somewhere before,
You hold the key,
You know which door?

The emphasis here is on the fact that indeed the situation is unfamiliar, and yet the way forward becomes obvious.  To the question the song proposed - I answered, Yes, I have.  And that is as close to an answer as I can provide for the question, "Do I clearly understand why I want to adopt?"  I want to adopt because I realize I now hold the key, and I know which door.

I need to remember to email my conclusions to Bec before I forget...

Five Year Meltdown

Such a mixture of feelings:  excitement, fear, hope, pain, gratefulness, confusion, anticipation, dread, and more. . .all jumbled together like my Christmas Chex Mix.  Five years.  Though the pain doesn't typically take my breath away or make me nauseous anymore, it's still there, a constant companion, a deep and heavy ache.

We pulled out the ornaments last Friday to adorn our beautiful, fresh tree (freshly slaughtered, if you ask Scott--see his warm thoughts on one of my favorite traditions here).  Ella uncovered a baby blue bell, given by my sister in sweet acknowledgment of a precious, short life.  Our first Miracle looked at me with deep sadness that no little girl should ever have to carry.  Someday, our King will come again and set things right, and no little girl will ever again have burdens such as this to carry.  But for now, this is her reality.  This is our reality.

5-year-old Ella with our little blue treasure box

Five years ago, all we could do was choose to trust, and - oh - how difficult was that choice.  We certainly didn't feel like trusting, and in the craziness of new grief, we tried to see good while gazing across an impossible, raging sea of pain.  Raw anger, confusion, and excruciating pain will send anyone to the brink, and we've been there and back more than once in five years.  Maybe you have, as well.

Christmas became permanently different that year.  It's no longer just warm fuzzies and celebration.  There is significance to life like never before.  Not just the Infant King's life, but our lives, and life in general.  Life became a precious gift to fight for. . .all because of a boy's 19-week life.

Who knew?  Who knew that Ezekiel was not an end, but a beginning?  Who knew that the healing I need is not healing of the brokenness of my heart, but of my soul?  Who knew that I would appreciate my kids more and love children more?  Who knew that Scott and I would become advocates for women and babies?  Who knew that after 5 years of healing and softening, our Father would have us on an adoption journey?  He did.  And if he had told me then?

Our social worker was to come and determine our suitability as parents today in preparation for this adoption.  Try to imagine our anxiety.  Yet the pretty flowers meant to brighten our dining room and destined tomorrow for Ezekiel’s grave sit unobserved on the table.  Our social worker called in sick.  Perhaps it is coincidental that our home study interview was cancelled today and Ezekiel’s 5^th birthday is tomorrow. . . .  Perhaps we have the makings of a full-blown, atomic meltdown!  Perhaps God knew that we needed a journey with a few adventures along the way.

God sees the beginning and end of our life journey and says it is good.  And it is.  Five years is pretty insignificant in comparison to eternity, and think, we’re five years closer to being in the arms of Jesus ourselves and holding Ezekiel, Sam, and Glorietta in our arms again.  Life is good.

Our Journey Toward Adoption

Originally written on 11/5/13:

Three years ago, Scott and I realized that for quite some time both of us had been having our hearts turned toward orphans—as in, God wanted us to DO something beyond giving money and praying.  We didn’t know whether we were supposed to foster parent or what, but we knew that the timing was not right and decided to revisit the idea when Gianna was 3-years-old.  Well, now she is almost 4, and after an adventurous three years, including the loss of our daughter Glorietta (our third in the arms of Jesus before we held her in our arms), our hearts continue to ache for orphans.  I have been surrounded by fostering and adoption stuff this whole year and have met an unusual number of adoptive parents, but we had a large house project looming on the summer horizon—a desperately needed new roof and siding—and we decided to wait until the project was completed in the Fall before we took action on foster care, with the idea of maybe, possibly adopting . . . not likely.

For the last several months, especially, there has been a major battle in my heart because I love my life . . . just the way it is.  I am blessed and content.  My little family makes me so very rich.  Why would I go and hang my heart out so that it might get crushed again; why would I disturb our ordered chaos and start over with nighttime feedings and smelly diapers and dirty faces and fingers and. . . .?  Always, that still, small Voice answers, “Because life isn’t about you, now is it?  It’s about Me and what I want to do in you and through you.”  Can’t argue with that, can I?? Believe me, I try!  I always lose those arguments because I know my Father well enough to know that if He is in something, it is GOOD.  No, it is UNFATHOMABLY good.  That doesn’t mean it’s easy.  I know Him well enough to know that, too!  But the very act that makes Him a good Father is His gentle nudging out of the curse of self-love and into the trust of true love, which is where joy lives.  Man, that nudging hurts!  So my whole issue is fear, once again.  That monster, Fear, who tormented me in every pregnancy since we lost our son Ezekiel—here we are, face to face again, as Scott and I embark on a new adventure.

On our way to Ella’s summer math class in August, we heard the song “Overcomer” by Mandisa, and it occurred to me that this needed to be our theme song for the school year, which was about to start.  I remember being unsure that I wanted to make this the theme song because surely it would mean that God has some big things ahead for us.  Thankfully, we are overcomers because Jesus overcame and has the power to overcome any old obstacle in our path!  Now that’s something to sing about!

At the last math class for the summer, I met a mom who adopted her girls from China, a particular soft spot with me for a variety of reasons.  As Debbie and I talked adoption, she made the statement, “You know, it’s not a coincidence that we met.”  That haunted me, and I could almost hear the year’s previous adoptive moms saying the same thing.  If Scott were even in favor of pursuing adoption, I had no idea where to look for our child—international or domestic, foster care system or newborn through agency, physical challenges or none, and so on.  I had no idea what Scott would say, so I began seriously praying that his heart would be interested if God was truly in this craziness.  In the meantime, I still fought the battle with my own heart—what am I thinking?!  I am not the kind of mother for this job.  How would we manage?  We have plenty of other excellent, worthy causes to spend our time and money on; in fact, what if God is just moving us to give so that someone else can adopt . . . a different family without so many flaws?

By Saturday of that week, my mind and heart were whirling in confusion.  When I took the mail out of the mailbox that day, the top magazine was our homeschooling magazine with a cover story on. . .[drumroll]. . .you guessed it—ADOPTION!  Specifically, it was on how adoptive homeschooling families face the challenges.  I threw the magazine on the counter and refused to look at it.  I couldn’t believe it.  As the day progressed, every so often I’d pause and read another part of the article; it was irresistible.  The ache in my heart cried out to God, “Show me what to do!  I don’t know what you want or how to do it.  Please help me!”

Two days later, I opened my email and found that my friend, who has faced strangely similar losses as I, had heard from a former Michigan employer, an adoptive dad and lawyer dealing in adoption.  He had a birth mom needing an out-of-state adoptive family for her baby; the birth mom was interested in California for some reason.  My friend thought of me, and when I read her email, the typically still, small Voice couldn’t be louder.  I sat and cried buckets.  Sweet Ella came in and saw the puffy, red eyes, hugged me, and asked what was wrong.  I told her that it was okay; they were good tears for a happy reason.

The next logical thing was to lay it all out for Scott and see what he said.  After he read the email, he turned and looked at me with a crooked smile and said, “Well, I’m up for another challenge!”  Shock.  Awe.  Had God really made it that easy?  I didn’t even have to make a case.  This is the same man who just 7 or 8 years ago was indifferent toward us having a second child.  My secondary infertility concerned him because it hurt me, but Scott was okay with having Ella as our only.  Was this the same guy?  He had softened since the birth of our second daughter, Gianna, but had become content again as I had.  Nope, God had gotten ahold of him, too, and moved his heart a little more from self to love, just like me.

It just so happened that the girls and I were to go to Michigan in a few weeks to visit our family, and I was able to meet the birth momma.  At this point, we know nothing more and have taken this as a closed door, but if for some reason we find that she wants to work with us, we could have a baby in February or March.  I believe that whatever comes of this opportunity, God has used it to show us what He wants us to do, though we don’t have it all figured out yet.  We are currently working through the Home Study process and would appreciate your prayers.  This is where the rubber of action meets our road of faith.

Overcomer

Becky chose "I am an Overcomer" as the theme for the girls' new school year.  She then mentioned that it seemed an appropriate theme for our entire family.  I mumbled something like, "sure, whatever."

Then my next thought was - "what have you done to us now..."  In order to be an overcomer, one must have obstacles to overcome - yes?  I am not interested in more obstacles, and I felt I had been clearing most of my obstacles rather smartly, thank you very much.  What was she wishing upon us, or what did she see coming that I was missing?

Well the adoption for one.  We had talked on and off about adoption over the years, but it has now come up before us as a real possibility, and very soon.  More about that at another time.  Suffice to say that reams of adoption paperwork, endless professional appointments, and meticulous home study preparation are all in the process of being overcome.  Add a baby to the mix sometime soon, and we will have full blown overcoming on our hands.

But dear me, this, like most of the other obstacles we face, have been erected by our own hands.  There have been few obstacles in our path that have not had the foundations poured, framework erected, and been fully adorned by anyone other than ourselves.  This results in part from our own foolishness certainly, though I think there is a more agreeable reason much of the time, or at least a composite of the two.  That is, that ground deep into our nature is the understanding that most really good things can only come as a result of hard work.  Frankly, even the "just sort of good" and "pretty good" things in life need at least a modicum of effort expended in their direction to become reality.  When we want something enough, we are normally willing to overcome some obstacles along the course we take to get at it.

But those are not the obstacles that prove most troublesome.  The troublesome ones are those which we did not, yea, could not see coming.  For example,  adoption is a large obstacle placed by ourselves into our own path, and we are patiently scaling it one handhold and one toe hold at a time.  Troublesome will be finding that a baby is waiting to be adopted, we have 1 week to prepare, I am in the middle of 3 large projects at work, the line of credit has been tapped out, the only bathtub in the house has sprung a leak, and the girls both have the flu.  And that really won't be too difficult until we discover that the neighbor's cats have recommenced using the front flower beds as a litter box.  That will become an adamant wall over which even super-heroes such as we are, cannot fly.

But then, of course, we will.  By God's grace we will mount up on those Isaiah 40:31 wings and soar right on over, or at least that's what it will look like in retrospect when we tell it to our children with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence - thank you Robert Frost.  But our Road not Taken will sure look like the better path as we scrape and scramble up the path no feet have trodden black.  You see, even Frost wrote with an understanding of retrospectiveness.   But while that works for poets writing poems, retrospect offers no balm while the wounds are being inflicted, muscles are straining, and tired eyes peer yet deeper into the gloom in search of some sign of the right path.

Overcome or be overcome.  I think of the wave that nearly toppled Ella and I one day as we stood waist deep in the cold Pacific surf.  We were overcome.  When we could see the waves coming, and we stood at just the right spot, we could overcome them with a bit of a hop and a giggle.  When we got turned around  however, the mischievous sea sent a small rolling wall to teach us a lesson about power and control.

Overcome or be overcome.  I thought how appropriate this theme was going to be, as I begin to train for my next race.  My foot has been injured for over 2 months and the nagging injury just won't heal.  For weeks, I've been telling myself that in about 2 weeks I'll be running again.  I'm still thinking that same thought today, but now even my eternal optimism has begun to get jaded.  When do I get to start being an overcomer?  When do I get to start training hard to prove that I'm an overcomer?  This is beginning to become one of those troublesome obstacles.  I feel the sea building behind me

I don't want a lingering injury obstacle.  I want a previous injury obstacle.  The obstacle that I have right now, is getting out of control.  The obstacle I want, can be managed by discipline and hard work.  I want to soar with wings like an eagle right through the winter on a training regimen that will be difficult yet allow me to find success in the end.  I don't want to think about having to wait on the Lord for 6 months so that I can say I soared to some other destination.  I know which obstacles I want to overcome.

And so, I think I'm on to something.  It's not really about the obstacle.  It's not really about overcoming the obstacle.  It's about attitude.  And, stop nodding your head in that self-possessed smug manner in which you are nodding it.  I know you knew that already.  So did I.  But doggone if it doesn't seem to come to mind at the right times, and if it does, it appears to be an impossible and unrealistic possibility.  Endure hardship with the right attitude and it will be alright in the end?  Come-on, Paul, really?  In whatever condition - content?  Let me pick and choose my obstacles and I'll choose the ones I know how to clear.

Do I trust the Creator to place appropriate obstacles in my path?  I guess not very well.  Being an overcomer isn't going to be easy.

Poetry

You can take little risks on a blog right?  What is to follow hazards only a bit of self respect - and that, only supposing I'm a complete failure and the failure is published beyond the limited audience that visits here.

I've written 2 poems.  Stop grinning.  Think Browning, Shakespeare, Burns, they are all respectable men. I'm teaching a Christian Life Studies class, where we are exploring the Bible as a work of literature in some of its various genres.  This week is Poetry.  Part of my explanation of Hebrew poetry is a handful of illustrations from contemporary forms of poetic writing.  As an exercise, I thought to have the class compose some poetry at the end of the period.  Unwilling to impose on my class some task I am unwilling likewise to undertake, I have composed the following 2 poems.

In deference to the limited time I will be giving them to compose their poetry, I limited my composition to 5 minutes per poem.  So, withhold criticism if possible, and at least appreciate the 10 minutes of hard labor represented below.

Acrostic

PEACE

Praying with hope

  Even in fear

    Answers are hidden

      Can there be hope?  Yes,

        Even with tears.

Haiku (5,7,5)

The Disciple

The waves crash wildly

My bark is safe though Christ sleeps

And yet I despair

The Lord wakes and smiles

The waves are stilled as He looks

And all are amazed

Comments are welcome, as well as original content, which I would be happy to post for you.  Yes, I'm grinning.