Just Wondering

I saw a story on the news this morning about a seven-year-old Utah boy who took his parents' car on Sunday morning and drove it several miles around town. Needless to say, his erratic driving caught the attention of police and they tried to pull him over. He kept driving. He drove all the way home and then jumped out of the car and ran into his house to hide. Imagine the officers' surprise when a kid jumped out of the driver's seat. The boy has given two different reasons for his actions. First, he said he just didn't want to go to church. But later he told his parents that he just wanted to try driving.

Now, I'm wondering...if your seven-year-old son took your car out for a joy ride, would you:

A. Ground him for four days and then take him to New York City to appear on the Today Show?
B. Ground him for almost forever and not allow him any attention for his misbehavior?

Just curious.

A Steep Hill

Last night I had to take my youngest to a local emergency clinic because he was not coping well with a case of swimmers ear. As we drove there, I noticed a man on the side of the road. He was standing by his bicycle, which had a wagon full of stuff attached to it. He was wearing a reflective vest, which I thought was pretty smart. He was at the bottom of a steep hill and had to climb another to continue on his journey.

An hour later (miraculously, there was no wait at the clinic!), we were on our way home. The man had made little progress. I saw him pulling the wagon up the hill by hand; a bit beyond where he was (but still only halfway up the hill) was his bicycle, waiting for him. It was going to be a considerable amount of time before he completed the multiple stages of transport for his bike and all his gear. Beyond the crest of the hill, another hill awaited him, though that one was less steep. There was a sign on the back of the heavy wagon he was pulling. It read: Homeless Artist.

Something else awaited him beyond the crest of the hill. Something he could not possibly have anticipated: the county fair. It got me thinking. Sometimes, our journey can be grueling. It can take way more time and energy to travel short distances than we ever anticipated. Years can pass in which we feel like all we're doing is trying to climb the same stinking hill. The top feels a long way off, and we have no idea what we'll see when we get there. Will another, steeper hill greet us? There is no way to know.

But sometimes we climb and climb, because it's the only thing we can do, and at the top we are greeted by the truly unexpected.

Finally

I've been on the hunt for a good book for months. I've tried several and tossed them aside. I've read others, though not with complete enjoyment. But the search, aided by a little visit to npr.org, has finally paid off. Last night I started reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett. The first paragraph of this book reminded me that you really can love a book from the start:

"Mae Mobly was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960. A church baby we like to call it. Taking care a white babies, that's what I do, along with all the cooking and the cleaning. I done raised seventeen kids in my lifetime. I know how to get them babies to sleep, stop crying, and go in the toilet bowl before they mamas even get out a bed in the morning."

I read that paragraph and I knew this was a book I'd read all the way through. Thank you very much Kathryn Stockett.

My best friend is an english teacher. She has all these rules for living, and I used to live by them all. She probably lived by mine too. Probably one of her worst rules was developed in college: you had to go out at least once with anyone who asked you out. I can tell you from experience that this is probably not a good way to live. But another one of her rules may have been worse: you've got to finish any book you start. As you can imagine, a bad date takes a lot less time than reading a book you hate. Because I used to live by her rules, my ability to give up on a book after the first chapter is an acquired habit and one I love dearly. Such freedom! Now I regularly give up on books after the first chapter or two. I figure that's plenty of time for the author to grab my interest. If it doesn't happen in that time span, then there's a whole library full of options just down the road.

A Duck Tale

Last July we had the opportunity to meet a new client. They would be driving home from Washington, DC, and they wanted to get off the highway and come meet us. "Not at our office!" we said -- since it's in our house and we don't actually live in a mansion, which we're fairly certain they do. Also because our office is located across the hall from the bathroom where we keep the litter box. We said we'd take them out for lunch.

For whatever reason, I was really nervous about the whole event, which was ridiculous since I wasn't the one actually doing any work for them. Our work for them is only design work, so that's all on the husband. He, of course, wasn't nervous at all. There was no reason for him to be, so I don't know what had gotten into me. When I was getting ready, I decided I'd feel a whole lot better if I could take one of the pets with me. Animals always make me feel so much calmer. But that obviously wasn't going to happen. I had just seen Miss Potter, and the scenes where she could see Peter Rabbit and his family coming to life really affected me. I wished some cute little rabbit dressed in knickers and a topcoat could come along and sit on the table next to my lunch plate. But obviously that wasn't going to happen either.

We went to lunch and since we arrived (miraculously!) ahead of the clients, we chose a table outside, near the water. Within minutes, a duck waddled up to the table and stood right next to my chair. He stayed in place through our guests' arrival and returned after the waiter chased him away (over my protest). The duck was a perfect gentleman. No quacking. No begging. (Do ducks actually beg?) No pecking or biting. His presence made me feel so much better, and so much more like myself. The clients were kind, interesting, and amusing people. I forgot about my ridiculous nervousness. Then I forgot about the duck. The next time I looked down to give him something from my lunch, he was gone. Having performed his little act of kind service, he somehow knew he was no longer needed. Seriously. I am certain that God sent the duck. Does that make me sound utterly insane? Or just partially?

When my husband and I argue, the dog comes and sits next to me. Arguments make me feel utterly overwhelmed and undone, but when the dog comes and lays his head on my lap, I feel sort of restored.

Last night we were watching an all-star little league game. One team was about to lose to the other -- 14 to 0. Before the last out, a cat ran onto the field, dashing toward home plate. What kind of cat rushes onto a brightly lit baseball field surrounded by spectators? No cat I've ever met. I guess God and the cat cooked up that little scheme because they knew a little bit of levity was needed.

The connection between people and animals and God intrigues me. I think the connection we can make with animals tells us that there are bonds and communication that can happen without words. When you love an animal, you can feel the significance, the dignity of that relationship. And those relationships with living creatures we can't speak with teach us about ourselves and God and our place in the grand scheme of things...