This morning I became a Grandpa again. (That's two weddings and two new grandchildren for us in 2009.) My son Nathan and his adorable wife Jenny have waited five years for their first child. But the seeming eternity of the wait disappeared like a vapor the moment they saw their new baby girl. The past is over. The joy of now is what seems most relevant and real.
Lots of careful thought had gone into the birth plan. The location, surroundings, birth attendants, and dozens of other details were put on paper and communicated to the participants. What could not be scripted, of course, were all the unforseeable elements. In the end, very little actually ended up going according to the script. In fact, most of this drama was improvised. No one planned on over 50 hours of labor, three sleepless nights, a large team of medical personnel, and unfamiliar medical devices. The baby scrapbook had a place for a photo of "Baby's First Bath", but no place to record baby's first feeding tube. The pregnancy books showed serene pictures of happy mothers bonding with their babies, but no pictures of mothers looking at their babies through an acrylic barrier.
And yet, despite the deviation of the plan, the fact remains that our entire family is all smiles and basking in the wonder of our new addition. Little Maylin has captured our hearts already, and the "birth plan" is now irrelevant. It's history. Only the baby matters.
On eternity's stage, I've seen the same thing happen. I've had my ideas of the perfect script for how God should perform on behalf of people I care about. I pray my ideals and preferences, and often forget that God is not nearly as interested in my plans as He is in the well-being of the person. God is not a publisher of warm, fuzzy scrapbooks. God is in the people business. His work concerns life and death. And He will do whatever it takes on behalf of my loved ones...your loved ones...to see that a new life is safely delivered. I must remind myself to stop telling God how to do His job, and trust Him to do what He needs to do. He says, "My ways are not your ways, and my thoughts are not your thoughts."
I'll go with His plan. After all, He's been delivering people since the dawn of time.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Things Look Different From the Front
A foggy mist kept me upright and alert last night. It was 2am and I was in the final hour of the 375 mile trip home from Chicago. The unlit, poorly marked two-lane road and good sense demanded that I stay safely under the 55 mph speed limit. Suddenly, a pair of headlights appeared in my rear-view mirror, and in mere seconds the vehicle was impatiently tailgating me.
I'm not going to be pressured into speeding up, I told myself. I knew this winding road very well; I knew the slippery low spots, the places where deer were most likely to cross, rough patches and the uneven shoulder. I recalled the deer I had hit on this road, and the horrible seventeen car pile up I had been a part of 23 years before. Nobody else's impatience was going to make me increase my speed beyond what I knew to be safe for the conditions.
The other driver could stand it no longer. Racing his engine and whipping around me, he sped away...for about fifty yards. Without my red taillights to follow, he hit his brakes. I chuckled at what had obviously happened; all of a sudden things didn't seem so clear anymore.
The final miles of my trip were filled with prayers of thanks for my kids. I have kids who are wise and humble enough to follow their parents' lead. Although our decisions don't always make obvious sense to them, they usually are able to appreciate the fact that we have traveled this road for a while. They know that their day will come when they take the lead in their own families.
That's when they'll see how things look from the front.
I'm not going to be pressured into speeding up, I told myself. I knew this winding road very well; I knew the slippery low spots, the places where deer were most likely to cross, rough patches and the uneven shoulder. I recalled the deer I had hit on this road, and the horrible seventeen car pile up I had been a part of 23 years before. Nobody else's impatience was going to make me increase my speed beyond what I knew to be safe for the conditions.
The other driver could stand it no longer. Racing his engine and whipping around me, he sped away...for about fifty yards. Without my red taillights to follow, he hit his brakes. I chuckled at what had obviously happened; all of a sudden things didn't seem so clear anymore.
The final miles of my trip were filled with prayers of thanks for my kids. I have kids who are wise and humble enough to follow their parents' lead. Although our decisions don't always make obvious sense to them, they usually are able to appreciate the fact that we have traveled this road for a while. They know that their day will come when they take the lead in their own families.
That's when they'll see how things look from the front.
Friday, May 22, 2009
...Without the Drama, Please"
When my oldest son suggested we spend more time together, I envisioned lunches, not lunges. For seven weeks now I have been crunching and creaking my way to improved health, all under his watchful eye. When my mind says, "That's all, folks," my son vetoes that idea by saying "I want three more...two more...one more." He reminds me to focus on my form, think healthy thoughts, cut the carbs, and swallow my supplements.
On occasion, I'll respond to his training with playful resistance, such as a groan or a childish whine. He'll usually simply mutter, "Without the drama, please." That's why I was caught off guard by his response last week to my playful pouting. He lowered his dumbells, let out a long sigh, looked up from the bench where he sat, and said," Dad, I can't provide the willpower for both of us."
It's true. I had made my physical condition more his responsibility than mine. But he was working out, too. He was doing the lunges, the crunches, and the cardio machines, too. He was struggling through his reps using far heavier weights and far more resistance than I was. In fact, he was enduring my resistance.
I see this human tendency to shift responsibility all around me. Until I own my situation I will never really improve it. My kids can either expect the teacher to lighten the load, or they can step up to the plate and study harder. They can settle for a sloppy piano recital, or they can practice longer. I can feel entitled to a bailout and mope until I get it, or I can put my mind to better use by working harder and focusing on new, smarter ways to market my products. I can wait for the government to lift me over every hurdle, or I can dig deep inside and find a greater strength. American history is a gigantic collection of stories about the the pioneering spirit that overcame unscouted wilderness, mountain ranges, deserts, droughts, dust bowls, swarms of insects, attacks of violence, and much more. They pressed on and built a nation like none other in history.
I've never faced the threat of scalping, lost a crop to grasshoppers, or endured hunger on the prairie because blizzards prevented the trains from bringing supplies. I just write children's story books from a fairly comfortable chair in a fairly comfortable office. Not too dangerous. But I do face difficulties: financial weights, deadline challenges, distribution hurdles, and the always heavy responsibility of raising a large family. Friends and family, of course, can give and receive help, and this is good. Charitable organizations and government programs can offer their help to the truly needy who are in dire circumstances. But most of us are not in dire circumstances, but in uncomfortable circumstances. We may be tempted to gripe or mope rather than tap into that reserve strength. For me, that reserve is in Jesus Christ, through whom "I can do all things" (Philippians 4:13). I know that "the One who is in me is greater than the one that is in the world" (1 John 4:4). God gives me fresh ideas, tenacity, resources, and inspiration to counter the stale ruts, failure, poverty, and hopelessness that try to seize me. I have a mind. I have ideas. I have potential. I have whatever remaining days are ahead of me. I have opportunities all around me. I have a relationship with Almighty God. I can do more.
And I can do it without the drama.
On occasion, I'll respond to his training with playful resistance, such as a groan or a childish whine. He'll usually simply mutter, "Without the drama, please." That's why I was caught off guard by his response last week to my playful pouting. He lowered his dumbells, let out a long sigh, looked up from the bench where he sat, and said," Dad, I can't provide the willpower for both of us."
It's true. I had made my physical condition more his responsibility than mine. But he was working out, too. He was doing the lunges, the crunches, and the cardio machines, too. He was struggling through his reps using far heavier weights and far more resistance than I was. In fact, he was enduring my resistance.
I see this human tendency to shift responsibility all around me. Until I own my situation I will never really improve it. My kids can either expect the teacher to lighten the load, or they can step up to the plate and study harder. They can settle for a sloppy piano recital, or they can practice longer. I can feel entitled to a bailout and mope until I get it, or I can put my mind to better use by working harder and focusing on new, smarter ways to market my products. I can wait for the government to lift me over every hurdle, or I can dig deep inside and find a greater strength. American history is a gigantic collection of stories about the the pioneering spirit that overcame unscouted wilderness, mountain ranges, deserts, droughts, dust bowls, swarms of insects, attacks of violence, and much more. They pressed on and built a nation like none other in history.
I've never faced the threat of scalping, lost a crop to grasshoppers, or endured hunger on the prairie because blizzards prevented the trains from bringing supplies. I just write children's story books from a fairly comfortable chair in a fairly comfortable office. Not too dangerous. But I do face difficulties: financial weights, deadline challenges, distribution hurdles, and the always heavy responsibility of raising a large family. Friends and family, of course, can give and receive help, and this is good. Charitable organizations and government programs can offer their help to the truly needy who are in dire circumstances. But most of us are not in dire circumstances, but in uncomfortable circumstances. We may be tempted to gripe or mope rather than tap into that reserve strength. For me, that reserve is in Jesus Christ, through whom "I can do all things" (Philippians 4:13). I know that "the One who is in me is greater than the one that is in the world" (1 John 4:4). God gives me fresh ideas, tenacity, resources, and inspiration to counter the stale ruts, failure, poverty, and hopelessness that try to seize me. I have a mind. I have ideas. I have potential. I have whatever remaining days are ahead of me. I have opportunities all around me. I have a relationship with Almighty God. I can do more.
And I can do it without the drama.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Wonder of Waiting
Lately, the Bower family has been waiting...a lot. Waiting for the ground to warm up and for this Northern Michigan weather to get past its nasty freezes so we can plant the rest of the garden. Waiting, along with our daughter (child#3) for the arrival of our fifth grandchild. Waiting nervously as our teenage daughter (child #6) drives across five states to come home after a five month absence. Waiting for a shipment of our new book to arrive...a month later than we had hoped.
Waiting is no fun.
If waiting isn't worrying me, it's busy trying to lull me into a sort of mental/spiritual sleepiness. With my senses numb and my mind dumb, I don't always perceive what good things are actually brewing beneath the surface....what surprises are looming....what beautiful things are about to emerge. That's why when the leaves finally did appear on our trees (May 14?!) I hardly noticed. Suddenly, they were just there. Same with our granddaughter, Lucy. Once we stopped watching the "pot" on #3 it finally boiled.
No, waiting isn't fun, but it is often very good. It gave little Lucy's lungs more time to develop. It gave our teenager more highway experience. And it gave me a chance to find two typos in our new book that we had missed in our proofreading stage.
I hate to wait...but I usually love the results.
By the way, Lucy arrived May 19 (8 lbs. 4 oz.), and #6 made it home safely, better educated about how to use my GPS. And our new book? Well, The Jingle In My Pocket will be available June 9. If you've already been on the waiting list, well, sorry for the delay, but it's well worth the wait.
And the waiting game continues for my family: for #5's wedding day in August, for the first child of #1 and his wife in October, for school to be over for #s 7 through 11, and for #12 to get me in a tent in the backyard for that story night I promised him we'd have once it gets warm.
I can't wait.
Waiting is no fun.
If waiting isn't worrying me, it's busy trying to lull me into a sort of mental/spiritual sleepiness. With my senses numb and my mind dumb, I don't always perceive what good things are actually brewing beneath the surface....what surprises are looming....what beautiful things are about to emerge. That's why when the leaves finally did appear on our trees (May 14?!) I hardly noticed. Suddenly, they were just there. Same with our granddaughter, Lucy. Once we stopped watching the "pot" on #3 it finally boiled.
No, waiting isn't fun, but it is often very good. It gave little Lucy's lungs more time to develop. It gave our teenager more highway experience. And it gave me a chance to find two typos in our new book that we had missed in our proofreading stage.
I hate to wait...but I usually love the results.
By the way, Lucy arrived May 19 (8 lbs. 4 oz.), and #6 made it home safely, better educated about how to use my GPS. And our new book? Well, The Jingle In My Pocket will be available June 9. If you've already been on the waiting list, well, sorry for the delay, but it's well worth the wait.
And the waiting game continues for my family: for #5's wedding day in August, for the first child of #1 and his wife in October, for school to be over for #s 7 through 11, and for #12 to get me in a tent in the backyard for that story night I promised him we'd have once it gets warm.
I can't wait.
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