On the First Spring Afternoon: Nothing of Substance

I smelled the earth as it woke up, walking outside on Saturday morning. The mother dove had returned to her nest, and was making repairs to her long-abandoned summer home in the corner of the porch ceiling. She sang as she did it, and I sang, too. But the hours passed, and the sun rose to its zenith and began its descent by the time I was free to leave the office again. Stretching from leaving that box, I realized afresh that I had arms and legs, and muscles to move them.

I was out of doors in minutes, dressed for a run, hoping for a sweat that was the result of sun pounding on my back, and not just the few miles I aimed for.

As I completed the third lap at my favorite park, I saw a man and his wife getting up off a bench. He had only one leg, and was supported by two arm crutches. I "felt instinctively," as Anne of Green Gables so often felt, that there was a conversation to be had here. So I stopped, and said, I kid you not, "No way! You only have one leg!" Somehow, in the moment, it was not as bad as it sounds to you right now. You will just have to trust me on this... You weren't there, okay?

He responded, "I wish I could do what you're doing!"

"What I am doing is far less impressive than what you're doing, sir! This was going to be my last lap, but now I'm going to run another lap, in your honor!" He chuckled, and off I went. It was the worst lap. I wanted to quit so badly after the third one, but I had made a promise to a man with only one leg. If I broke that promise... something inside me told me my legs would be in danger.

On I went, and got to thank them as they left the park. They were very supportive of a poor soul with no filter. I was sure that was the best the day had in it, and was content.

As I walked on, I found myself at the bottom of the walking path: surrounded on all sides by field, grasses, and swamp. It occurred to me that this moment was the furthest I'd been physically away from people in perhaps four months. A wet little lab-spaniel puppy came bounding up to me, banishing serious thoughts with her jumping and rolling. She was owned by four small Amish kids who were fishing in the stream, and she followed me for several yards, impervious to their calling. I felt the honor of her precious attentions. Eventually they had to catch up with me to get her back, despite my prodding her to return to them.

On the first true spring afternoon of the year, nothing was covered in snow, I had all my limbs, and a very cute dog had just made my pants muddy.

Elyada: God Knows

On my way home after Christmas, I left my brother's house right before snow began. On the highway, heading south, I supposed I had missed the storm, and I began to praise God. I was so thankful: I hate driving in snow. In my heart, I felt a pressure, and wondered if I would still praise God if it were snowing hard, and the roads were bad. I told God, "Yes. I will praise You then, too!"

Lo, and behold: As my little green Chevy was speeding away down 322 South, just passing Newport, snow began to fall in more than a flurry, in a heavy nonchalance, oblivious to how dangerous it was making the roads. And I began to pray, and praise God for his faithfulness to me at all times, in all things, even if the worst would happen. (I have learned that all people are not as morbid as this. Snow on the road may not cause you to re-evaluate your life purpose, or get right with God. I, however, have never had any illusions of invincibility to which the young are reportedly so prone.) As I prayed and sang, my fear was occasionally uprooted by faith in God, who knows when I will die.

In church last week, I heard voices lifting up his name, voices coming from hearts that have been tested. They have lost children. Their hearts have been stomped in adulterous relationships and divorce. Their bodies have been wasted by diseases and injuries. They have lost jobs, some recently, and been unable to find more work. And they sang out this song:

O death! Where is your sting?
O hell! Where is your victory?
O church! Come stand in the light.
Our God is not dead! He's alive! He's alive!

It's hard to argue with people who know suffering and are still singing about God's love. One friend experienced the loss of his newborn. He said, in the midst of this song, "I can tell you, God is good."

It was a promise that in the worst times, at our weakest, in our fear, God knows.

(Song: Matt Maher. "Christ is Risen." Alive Again. Thankyou Music, 2009 (Admin. by EMI Christian Music Publishing))

Conversation

Readers, this is remarkable only because I believe she was somewhat serious.

Alyssa: Do we have days when the weather makes it... so no school?

Me: You want a snow day?

Alyssa: Yes! When do we have?

Me: It has to snow first.

Alyssa: Oh... Can't we have a day off?

Me: Are you asking me to make it snow? Seriously?