Moooove Like A Cow

Are you frustrated with your life? Are things not moving in the right direction for you? Perhaps this might help…

My granddaughter is fascinated with cows. Every time she comes to visit, a trip to the pasture is in order. Yesterday I drove two-year-old Layla in my Jeep to see her favorited bovines and stopped at a spot where I was sure she could see them from her car seat. I lowered the window. “See the cows, Layla?” I pointed toward the small herd.

Her eyes widened. “What cows doin,’ Grandma?"

“They’re eating grass. See them?”

“Cows walking.”

“Yes, they are walking,” I said, surprised that she had noticed something I hadn’t.

Huddled together, the cows chomped at the blades and then simultaneously moved forward toward the next nourishing mouthful. Chomp, step, chomp, step, chomp, step.

I thought about this curious rhythm and wondered, Is this the way God wants us to move?

“Move like a cow?” you may ask, “That doesn’t sound like something I wish to emulate.”

Bear with me. We need to eat, too.

Robins in the Snow

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1

If you live in the surrounding area of Washington, DC, you saw it. And while your perspective may differ from mine, you still saw it.

A winter storm that halted business as usual on Thursday laid several inches of beautiful glistening snow across our region. Yeah, that’s where we may differ. “Beautiful?” you question, “It’s March! Shouldn’t winter have packed its bags by now?”

It Is Enough

And Israel said, “It is enough; Joseph my son is still alive. I will go and see him before I die.”

—Genesis 45:28

It is enough, I read the words of Jacob (also called Israel). 

Enough. I let the word seep into my soul. Enough. Jacob’s final wish before he died…his only wish…his only prayer was to see his son alive who he had believed was dead.

I have read the story many times, but never before had it impacted me as much as when I read it earlier this week. When I read how Joseph’s jealous brothers sold him into slavery and then deceived their father into thinking he had been killed by a vicious animal (Genesis 37:12-33), I was outraged. When I read the account of Jacob’s grief (Genesis 37:34-35), my mother’s heart ached for him. I tried to imagine how he must have felt, but I could only shudder at the thought of losing one of my own.

Her Basket, Your Basket

Then she put the child in it and laid it among the rushes by the brink of the river.

—Exodus 2:3b

 

Jochebed. Not a common name. Not a familiar name. But Moses, that’s a different story.  

Actually it’s not.  

Recently I saw the Sight & Sound performance of Moses, which opened with the story of Jochebed, Moses’ mother. While the bible does not tell us much of her story, Sight & Sound  brings forth a creative—and convincing—portrayal of what might have been. 

Kneeling at the riverside, Jochebed places three-month-old Moses in the basket that she has woven of bulrushes and waterproofed with pitch (Exodus 2:3a). All part of her plan—God’s plan—to save her beautiful baby boy (Exodus 2:2) from Pharaoh’s plan of extinction (Exodus 1). Pushing the basket into the current, Jochebed collapses into sobs.  

And my heart breaks for her. 

Tattoo Your Mark

The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

I didn’t think he’d do it.  This man, so particular, so neat and tidy, one who values what he has and works hard to keep things in like-new condition.  He’d rather maintain and fix than buy new. An old school kind of guy.  Old trucks, old cars, old movies, old music. One who wished he’d been born decades earlier. In a simpler time.  Nary a rebellious streak in him.  A former police officer who obeys every traffic rule.  Yup, that’s him. Regimented. Not a wild hair to be found. He uses coasters religiously to prevent water marks on his furniture—surely he’d never mar his body. That’s what I thought.  But there it was as plain as the nose on his face…uh, his arm…a tattoo!

He told me ahead of time he made the appointment—even described his design, but I didn’t think he’d go through with it.  But he did.  And I have to admit the tattoo suits him. A piston and wrench in crisscross fashion surrounded by music notes.  By my description of him, you probably agree that it fits.  But there’s another part of the tattoo—a pair of dice.  A gambling man? Not really. He doesn’t play the lottery or cards or slots. He doesn’t bet on the horses or the games.  And he doesn’t gamble at making decisions—not a risk-taker. Every decision is well-thought-out.

So why the dice? Because that’s Kevin’s outlook on life. Like rolling the dice, you never really know how it will turn out. You may plan well and think through every decision.  But certain situations arise that are beyond your control. And things happen so unexpectedly that it’s…well… as shocking as Kevin getting a tattoo.

The Planning Committee

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you.

—Psalm 32:8 

Today was the big day for him.  I knew he had to be nervous.  At least I was – when I was observed by my administrator.  “I’ll pray for you,” I called through my colleague's classroom door.

“I hope I don’t need prayers!” he replied with a chuckle.

“I take all the prayers I can get,” I returned with a smile.  But on the inside I kept thinking about how differently we view prayer.

What I consider a vital part of Plan A is Plan B for others.  But it hasn’t always been that way for me.  How many times have I excluded God from the planning committee only to have to call Him in for the clean-up?

Pack a Heart-Healthy Lunch

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped.—Psalm 28:7

After three straight classes, I need this time to relax and refresh—before the next group arrives in 45 minutes. It’s called a planning period, but I find myself doing every other thing but planning—I'm grading papers, writing discipline referrals, reporting on students with special needs, and answering emails from parents.  My desk is littered with paper and my electronic inbox is bursting at the seams. How will I ever get it all done?  And what can I do with my most challenging class—soon to arrive? Just thinking about makes my heart palpitate--despite rhythm-regulating medicine.

Divine Design

Show me Your ways, O Lord, teach me Your paths.—Psalm 25:4

The students were chatty that September morning, as we rode the school bus en route to a local college.  I couldn’t blame them.  It was a beautiful morn, and I was excited too. Just a handful of my high school students had been selected to participate in a poetry workshop directed by a college professor.  All of us hoped to hone our budding talents, myself included.

I peered out the window at the disappearing landscape and caught glimpse of a strange sight.  Translucent films appearing to hang in mid-air!  A stop at a traffic light allowed me to closely examine the curious sight.  What I thought was hanging in mid-air, I soon discovered, was actually suspended from power lines—spider webs!  Dozens of them!  Why have I never noticed this before? I wondered.  And then I realized that morning mist clung to the strands, reflecting the sunlight, and only because of that was I able to see those glorious intricate designs.