The 2013 Edition of Our Backyard Garden

“To husband is to use with care, to keep, to save, to make last, to conserve. Old usage tells us that there is a husbandry also of the land, of the soil, of the domestic plants and animals - obviously because of the importance of these things to the household. And there have been times, one of which is now, when some people have tried to practice a proper human husbandry of the nondomestic creatures in recognition of the dependence of our households and domestic life upon the wild world. Husbandry is the name of all practices that sustain life by connecting us conservingly to our places and our world; it is the art of keeping tied all the strands in the living network that sustains us." 

--Wendell Berry, "Bringing it to the Table" 

    Here at Hines Terrace, we love growing a garden and everything that goes with it. It is something we did as children and something we are so glad that we have added into our adult life. We begin growing a garden together in summer of 2010. We started small with just two raised beds made out of wood from our old deck and an old wooden flower bed that I used for the first of my several failed corn "crops". Each year we do a little more and there has been talk about "plowing up" the whole backyard, but more rational forces have prevailed. This year, we weren't real sure about how we were going to grow much of anything because so much of our efforts have been put into growing this guy:

     However, seeds were bought, chicken manure and compost were added, beds were mended, soil was added and then turned, weeds were picked, and Mel's articulate plans (See Below! Even her plans look like a piece of art!) were made all in grand detail. And so a garden was meant to be and on a fine evening somewhere between me arriving home late due to it being track & field season and feeding and bathing Fordzilla, Mel placed the majority of the seeds in the ground as I watched young FH. We had planted the potatoes and the tomatoes about a week or so earlier.  And so, here is a small pictorial with a little explanation of our 2013 edition garden. These pictures are a few weeks old and there will be an update, but for now, here it is for better or worse. 

The articulate and masterful garden sketches of one Sweet Melissa.

     A view from the top! Our yard is oddly terraced and we have chosen the garden to be in our bottom yard a few more inches away from our dogs. It is still not safe, but at least the thought makes us feel better. Jack is a closet vegan. What can we say? At night, he eats his weight in anything from peppers to cucumbers!  We have four raised beds that are 4'x8' and two that are 4'x4'. We originally bought the cheap soil and added about a bag or two of the Black Cow compost. Now we just add a few more bags of the cheap soil and our homemade concoction we'll call Four Bawdy Hens. Either way, things seem to love growing in the organic matter of others and we take advantage of that. The new way is just a bit cheaper and we don't have to leave the house. 

   A view from the bottom! This pic really shows off the herbs. They have really taken to their witness protection move from their place on the deck. I know this sounds like hyperbole, but trust me, they were witness to many crimes committed at the paws of one brown and one black pup. In all actuality, we stole the "herbs in a raised bed idea" from Callaway Gardens two years ago during a visit to see the lights. I thought they had all died and we were going to have to start from scratch, but once the weather turned a little warmer and the Spring rains became abundant that came back with a vengeance minus the basil. We have already had to trim the rosemary and the cilantro back twice. 

   The potatoes and the cucumbers. We started both from seeds or from the eyes. Nothing grows more quickly than potatoes; well except maybe weeds, but they do grow very fast. You can actually plant them two or three times before the weather turns cold again. We picked up the little white fences under the extreme bargain table of our local Ace Hardware. I think we paid about $.50 a piece for them. When the prices are that heap, it really is the place!

   The tomatoes. We have had touch and go luck with our tomatoes. Some years, we have a bounty and others we just can't seem to get many. I will say they are a tricky fruit to grow. Last year, I thought it was a lean year, till our neighbor thanked us one night in passing for all the tomatoes we were giving her and that they were so good. We said that she was welcome, but we started guarding the produce a little more closely and found her son was raiding it about once a day and taking them to his mom. A brief scolding was given and her source of veggies dried up, but what are we suppose to do, let the kid and Jack steal everything that comes out of the ground? I think not! 

   We usually start with the small plants instead of the seeds. This year we went with two Big Boy varieties, two Roma varieties, one husky red cherry variety, and our first heirloom variety, the Golden Jubilee. We are pretty excited about the latter. The tomato cages we were getting at our local places were just not working for us, so Mel's gracious and kind dad built us some "real" cages and they are seem to really be doing the trick. 

An inside look at one our Roma plants. Grow, grow, grow. We've got Caprese salad on the brain!

   This bed is our catchall bed this season. And the only item that is really going so far is our Egyptian Crawling onion we bought at our local market. I also thought it had died, but it has come back in a grand way. I used to not be that big of a fan of a green onion in food or with a meal, but these have changed my mind and I can't get enough of them. Besides the onion, the bed is planted with peppers, zinnias, and watermelons (our first try with these too!).

An up-close picture of the Egyptian Crawling Onion. It blooms and then if you plant the bloom, it too becomes another plant. Pretty neat, right? Right. Especially, since it only cost $5. 

   The first of our herb beds. This one contains cilantro, mint, some newly planted garlic, and some very slow-growing basil. I may splurge on some basil plants because I've got too many plans for basil this summer for it to be taking forever to grow! 

   Our second herb bed. This one contains thyme, rosemary, parsley, chives, and oregano. As I mentioned earlier, they all looked dead and far past their prime, but they have come back in a big way. If you have ever cooked or eaten food with real, fresh herbs in it, you know the taste is hard to beat. We love using these and that is good because with herbs, the more you use them, the better they grow. 

One of the pretty blooms on our chives. 

   Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed and I hope your garden is coming in well. We love our little backyard, "victory" garden and are excited to see what it will make this year. We look forward to growing it all year and this year, we are going to try to save, can, freeze, etc as much of it as we can so that we enjoy it even longer than in the past. You would be amazed at the amount of food that come from a garden even as small as ours. 

Happy Reading,

  David

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating--A Book Review

"My bed was an island within the desolate sea of my room. Yet I knew that there were other people homebound from illness or injury, scattered here and there throughout rural towns and cities around the world. And as I lay there, I felt a connection to all of them. We, too, were a colony of hermits." pg. 84

"There is a certain depth of illness that is piercing in its isolation; the only rule is uncertainty, and the only movement is the passage of time. One cannot bear to live through another loss of function, and sometimes friends and family cannot bear to watch. An unspoken, unbridgeable divide may widen. Even if you are still who you were, you cannot actually be who you are. Sometimes the people you know well withdrawal, and then even the person you know as yourself begins to change." pg. 131

    

    Elisabeth Tova Bailey is a fine writer; a much better writer than I will probably ever be. And her book, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, has gotten rave reviews and even won a few awards. And it is a big hit with the folks who frequent the likes of the Good Reads website and other book-related websites and forums. It came highly recommended to me from both people I trust and from internet sources that I look to for book suggestions. And all of this brought about a grand amount of anticipation on my part to get my hands on this little book. I was so sure that I would open up the covers and begin reading an account account akin to Thoreau's Walden or Muir's 1000 Mile Walk to the Gulf. But to my great avail, sadly it was nothing of the sort.

"Slime is the sticky essence of a gastropod's soul, the medium for everything in its life: locomotion, defense, healing, courting, mating, and egg protection. Nearly one-third of my snail's daily energy went into slime production. And rather than making a single batch of "all-purpose" slime, my snail had a species specific recipe for each of these needs and for different parts of its body. It could adjust the ingredients, just as a good cook would, to meet a particular occasion. And in a catastrophic accident in which a snail is squashed, it can release a flood of lifesaving, medicinal mucus packed with antioxidants and regenerative properties." pg. 71

    I wanted so badly to like this book because one of my fondest memories is of spending a week hiking the Foothills Trail in South Carolina with my youngest sister and mom and taking the time one afternoon to watch a snail eat. It was one of the most amazing things I have ever watched. And I was hoping Bailey's account would put the feelings I experienced from watching the wild snail eat into words. And I really didn't want to say or write a post saying I didn't like it because of how much I wanted to like this book. Each night I would read a few more pages hoping to come upon the section in the book that would really change things for me. I was waiting and waiting for that magic paragraph where Bailey would take the emotions I felt and turn them into prose, but the last page came and went and I never got to that paragraph. I do hope you will read it and tell me why you liked it and how I missed the goodness of it. I may, as I have done in the past, read it again in an attempt to find the goodness in it. It took me three full readings of, The Catcher and the Rye, before I saw what Salinger was trying to really say. I have tried to explain many times that I am an amateur reader at best and this may be the occasion where you truly see that it is the truth.

    There were two items I disliked in the book and which seemed to ruin it for me. The first was that Bailey writes as the stereotypical cold and distanced scientist when it comes to both the snail and her illness. It felt at time as if I were reading a science textbook, but it wasn't the relaying of facts that gave this impression, it was rather the way the writing aside from a few high points, felt void of emotion. I did not expect there to be sappiness on every page or for it to be a great expose of sentimentalism, but I did want there to be the emotionalism that I've come to love and admire from naturalists like this quote from John Muir, 

    “No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty. Whether as seen carving the lines of the mountains with glaciers, or gathering matter into stars, or planning the movements of water, or gardening - still all is Beauty!” 

   But this type of emotion seemed to be void from this book and Bailey wrote as one detached from both nature and from her own personal illness that forced her into the "lonely isolation" she writes from. Her descriptions of the snail and her observations of the snail do contain emotion at times and she even seems amazed at the actions of the snail, but it just seems to be missing something that I felt it needed. It could also just be me. Maybe you will grab the book, a warm cup of coffee or a cold limeade, and settle in for an afternoon of reading and maybe you will feel what she was trying to get across. I just did not feel it. 

   And the second item I found in this book that really kept getting to me was Bailey's constant mentioning of or her dogged dedication to the "evolution" of the snail species as well as the evolution of all species. I fully understand that the theory of evolution, though invalidated by truly scientific evidence (observable, measurable  repeatable evidence), is believed by most all people, especially academics. I know this. I teach science for a living. I use both Christian and Secular textbooks. I have been to museums all over the country and they are full of the "facts" of many people's grand theories about how things might have come about. I can usually stand a small bit of an author's obligatory need to mention his or her dedication to the evolution of all things, but Bailey seems to mention it at every turn. And what I found to be most distracting to me was that she would either mention something amazing about a snail; whether it be it's slime, or eating habits, or ability to go dormant, or their odd and varied reproduction processes. And she would either precede or conclude these true facts about snails with a conjecture of some other scientist's theory about something involving evolutionary theory and the chanced development of something that makes the snail perfect for what it is. And this for me is pure lunacy of which it is hard for me accept. It is not the existence or presence of a theory that is different from one I hold to be true that seems crazy to me, but rather it is the blind dedication to something that doesn't need to be true in order for something to be seen as amazing. Bailey could have written an account of her observations of her snail and never mentioned how it may have evolved and it would have been a good and truly scientific account. I just kept finding it amazing that she would write of something so intricate and then would attribute it to chance adaptation and mutations. 

   I would have let this dedication to evolution to go and just chalked it to being a book involving aspects of science that was written after the 1960's until I read her epilogue where she describes in detail both the acquiring of her snail knowledge and more aspects about the snail species and of her illness. She writes of genetic mutations that once acquired in her body wreaked havoc on her and in her poor body. And this is where I have lost patience or even tolerance with writers, speakers, scientists, etc. Evolution, though parts of it being found true and possible at times, is a scientific theory. Theories, by definition, lack the evidence in order to be made into laws, which also by definition, are true in every aspect as long as certain perimeters exist. However, nowadays, it seems that one either believes evolution to be wholeheartedly true or they are ignorant and foolish. It would seem crazy if this were felt about some other theory, say something economic like Keynesian economics or say whether or not Bigfoot exists. It would seem ludicrous for whole groups of people to force those around them to believe in something where there exists more than one field of thought about an item and no true science or proof for the belief. And yet, with evolution, this is this par for the course. And what frustrates to no end at times is if one truly takes the time, as Bailey did, to observe nature, it seems almost hard for me to comprehend how one could throw all the brilliance and intricate complexity that is found in even one square foot of nature to the winds of chance and mutation, but Bailey, as well as most writers and thinkers today do this. 

    Now, please do not read this as a demand for them to just believe as I believe because I will not do as they do. I do not expect them to observe the nature that surrounds them and then write a brilliant piece on how Genesis 1 & 2 are real and they have proved the existence of the triune God by watching a snail eat. I do not want this, but I do expect for them to think and truly focus on the images they are seeing and put that up against the knowledge and facets of evolution that they know to be true and those that are merely the thoughts of men. I do not see how one could explain the perfect complexities of snail slime/mucus and then attribute it all to perfect adaptation or genetic mutation over long periods of time while being forced to lie in a bed because of a genetic mutation that has almost taken everything that she holds dear from her. Knowing full well with enormous amounts of true scientific evidence, the observable, measurable, and repeatable type of evidence, that mutations and adaptations only leave an organism with no new traits and mutations at best leave organisms with odd, seemingly unuseful traits, say like a dog with two colored eyes or a person who is double-jointed or in the worst case scenario, the mutations being terminal. The mutations don't aid in their survival but rather take away from it or end up being a non-factor. 

   I know that I am beating an old, decomposed and long dead horse, but it just seems odd to me and a bit tragic to read an author, like Bailey, who is a very fine writer, and read several pages about how a snail's reproduction processes and how they are hermaphrodites and how this allows them to regenerate their species in a full variety of ways depending on the current environmental conditions and then get to watch the whole reproductive process take place and then chalk it all up to a theory where no true evidence exits while watching real, true science taking place in front of your very own eyes that sit in your ravaged body that is being torn apart from a pathogen and its mutations and say that the snail developed these amazing and awe-inspiring reproductive processes through millions of years of constant adaptation and genetic mutation. It just doesn't add up to me and the longer I watch nature and the longer I observe even the most minute aspects of the world around me, the harder it becomes for me to understand this line of thought. 

Happy reading and today, even if it is only a brief moment, observe (truly try to see) what is happening in nature around you. You won't regret it. 

  David

   

National Ride Your Bike to Work Week: May 13th-May 17th

*Several attempts to post this were made over the last two days, but they just didn't pan out. Technology and time are some of our biggest friends, but they can really be our biggest enemy too. The editors here at HTH greatly apologize and hope you will overlook our many weaknesses once again. 

   

    Today begins the, National Ride Your Bike to Work Week, that is put on by the League of American Cyclists. Many places began last Thursday, but most places celebrate the week during this current week, May 13th-17th. I was surfing the web at the end of last week and ran across a very funny picture of a nun riding a bike in celebration of the week and it along with a few other items inspired me to attempt to participate this year since I have been riding my bike to work this year a little more than in years past. Some very bold words were even said about my attempt to Sweet Melissa to which she replied, "...we aren't destitute and we have two cars for you to drive. You don't have to take it that seriously..." May 17th is the official ride your bike to work day for this year, but many clubs and riders are attempting to make it a week long celebration. We here at HTH are joining in the week long idea unless the rains come and there isn't enough space on this server for me to rage about how I feel when I have to do things in the rain.  

   The League of American Cyclists was begun in 1880 by a group of men who were known as the "wheelmen". The bicycle had really just been invented and they were already facing many challenges in their efforts to ride their new contraptions and so they founded an advocacy group to help push for equality on the roadways. Some of the League's most famous members were the Wright Brothers and J.D. Rockefeller. Although times have changed and cyclists are not fighting muddy and severely rutted roads and folks in wagons and on rowdy horses, the League of American Cyclist are still there fighting for equal rights on the roads for cyclists. They sponsor local, state, and even nation-wide events, educational sessions, and they sponsor and lobby for better cycling conditions in every state in the US. And their website is a great place for many fine resources in terms of cycling.

The nice nun who inspired some laughs and my participation in this blessed week

     Commuting by bike is a tricky affair and those in places where commuting is smiled upon don't truly understand how hard and dangerous it is for the rest of us to make it to work in one piece and they look smugly at the rest of us for not adopting their way of life, but it just isn't that easy. Riding to work by bike is just plain hard work no matter where you live, what type of bike you are riding, or how safe your commute is. You are actually powering yourself and all your gear over hills, through traffic, and right next to semi-trucks to your place of work. This is no easy feat. I feel I need to say this because bicycle commuting is always presented in this very idealistic and idyllic way. The pictures you see are of people in coat and tie or hip skirt and blouse pedaling under huge trees with the wind blowing in their hair as they smile aboard their $4000 custom built commuter bike in a special bike lane. And although I am sure that is true in some places, it is a rare scene for most every other place. They do not show the heavy pre-planning involved. They don't show the sweaty shirts and pants. They don't show a pic of the sweaty guy struggling up a huge hill with his backpack on chugging along on his $90 Huffy with a semi in front of him blowing him off the road, a SVU behind him driven by a private school mom who is texting her tennis instructor while she drives, and the guy in the monster truck at the next intersection blowing his Dixie horn at you and screaming, "Go Lance!". No, this is not the whole picture, but it is more true than the previously mentioned scene of Ryan Gosling riding and smiling and saying something like, "Hey Girl, wanna cuddle a little while after we go pick wildflowers?".

   Take me for instance. Georgia is ranked 23rd out of the 50 states for bicycle safety and accommodation. I would have truly ranked it much lower and I would hate to ride a mile in those other states. And Macon, the city I live in and do most of riding in, is ranked 375th out of 400 American cities with populations larger than 65,000 people for bike safety and accommodation. I get this ranking and also know why my former town of Dothan, Alabama didn't make the list. And on another list of the top 500 cities in America for bike commuting, only two cities in Georgia make the list as opposed to the 20+ cities in California that made the list.   

     And although, bike commuting does take a lot of physical and mental work and requires planning. It is more than worth it for reasons other than fitness and money, but for some that may be enough. And I know, that it is not for everyone and I don't expect that. My vocation allows for it and so I can do it. My commute is only about 4 miles as opposed to those who live 90 miles from work. I enjoy riding my bike for a multitude of reasons. When I ride to school 8-10 days out of the month, I usually save somewhere between $20-$40 and the wear and tear on my car with around town driving. I also get time to think about the day on the way and then rehash the day on my ride home. The blood flowing helps me wake up in the mornings and when I walk in, I am fully ready to dive into work as opposed to wishing I could just snag a few more minutes of sleep. I also enjoy the sights and sounds I get to see along the way and the people who talk to me as I ride or am stopped at a light. I feel I get to "hear, breathe, see, listen, and talk to the living city" as O'Henry once wrote about walking in NYC. However, all those previous items are great, but the best thing I enjoy about commuting is that there is this great and simple pleasure of sitting at work knowing I powered myself there and my body was the motor. And there is this happiness that comes with being apart of a machine that is almost irreducibly complex and hasn't ever really been improved upon over the last 100 years or so. It is as if you are riding in the way that those "wheelmen" once rode. I am somehow connected to them through a hundred years of time and space by peddling from place to place. A car ride never did that for me. 

     So you want to try commutting to work by bike, but just aren't sure how to get started. Well, here is a pretty good list for those of you who want to commute, but want to do it well because you rightly know that it involves more than just waking up one day, hoping on your trusty metal steed, and then making it to work. Here are the basics:

 1. Find and ride a very simple bike. This means a bike that you could work on if push came to shove and the shove found you on the side of the road and you just wanted to make it home. You do not have to buy the $15,000 Cervelo carbon racer in order to make it work. There are literally hundreds of great bikes sitting unused in the garages of family members that they'd happily trade for a Chili's gift card and you could easily put $30-$100 into them and have something that will do you perfectly. Racks, baskets, and fenders may seem foolish, but not when you are actually using them. And if someone laughs, especially if they are a guy, ask them how manly is it to sit in the A/C and on top of leather seats while your ride to work as opposed to powering yourself and your gear to work by your own two legs! 

2. Once you begin riding your bike to work, check it on a regular basis to make sure all the components are working so they'll be ready to work when they are needed. 

3. Plan your route wisely. What I mean by this is take several different ways to your job before you try it once on your bike and do this while you drive your car, but think while you are driving as if you were already riding your bike. How is the traffic? How well is the road paved? Is there room on the road's shoulder? When is traffic the busiest? Is there a road that runs parallel to the one you usually drive, but it is much less busy? How many inclines does your route have? Etc. 

4. Always pack the night before or at least plan in your head what you will need. This helps limit the easily found excuses when you are rushed in the morning as you are almost guaranteed to be. 

5. Only pack the necessities. This sounds like common sense, but do you really need all the clothes, toiletries, books and papers from the office to work on at night, are you going to use that whole bottle of shampoo when you shower, etc? Pack light. Pack smart. You are carrying or hauling all that you pack and that 10 lb. Earth Science book that you aren't going to have the time to look through just made that worst incline that is separating you and that hot woman and a sweet baby you are heading towards that much harder.  

6. Lock your bike or store it inside. I know some of you reading this will ask yourself if you are reading a post written by me, but I have changed. People will steal. They have from me. They don't care. Even "good" people will steal. Don't trust anyone 'cept your mama may be the phrase to go with on this one and some of your moms may steal too. 

7. Check the weather. Check the weather. Check the weather. And then do it again. You don't want to be riding your bike when it is 110 degrees in the shade. Trust me. Asphalt doesn't reflect the heat back. It soaks it up and sends it into the very depths of your being. You don't want to be caught in a torrential down pour and then have to wait it out or look like the biggest cheapskate alive when you ask someone for a ride by telling them you are saving money on gas by riding your bike this week, so could you just use their gas and money to get home. That doesn't fly. 

8. Put lights on the front and back of your bike. People will look at you coming and still pull out in front of you or cut you off in the broad open daylight and this danger increases exponentially when it gets a few shades darker outside. Ride as if everyone was Mr. Magoo. And get lights you know how to work and put them on full beam, not the blinking beam. People don't pay attention to blinking things. I know you think they do, but they don't. Just the other night, I was coming up to an intersection that a car was at and then flashed my light at them, they waved, and they still pulled out in front of me and I had to swerve to keep from getting hit. 

9. Wear regular clothes. Even though pretending to be a pro cyclist is far past fun, the truth is that we are not them. Trust me once again, I have pretended to be Lance and George H. more times than most of you would be comfortable with, but your or my morning commute is not the Tour. You can know that because I am riding and I wouldn't even last three miles on the Tour. Wear clothes you own and leave the LYCRA at home. Nobody needs to see that and if your body is like mine, you may not even want to see that. 

10. Obey the traffic laws. If you want to be respected and you want others to give you your share of the precious road, drive your mode of transportation like you are deserving of it. The person who just screamed at you while driving that huge Chevy Z71 doesn't share the road and has never read the biking laws and only knows the rules about whoever has the most toys still dies and YOLO. Only take up your section of the lane. Use hand signals. Stop at stop signs. Don't run yellow lights. Stop at stop lights. Basically just follow the rules. You want them to. Don't expect things from people you aren't willing to do. 

11. Wear a helmet. Yes, the messenger guys in Portland and NYC don't and neither do the crazy people in Florida during Bike Week, but you are not there. They also have skinny jeans, 27 piercings, and 100 tats. You don't. your other car is a Subaru and you are looking forward to going to Lowe's on Saturday. You work for an insurance company, a church, or even a little private school. You need your brain for everything. You can't over-protect it. You can't be too cautious with it. They don't do brain transplants at your local hospital. and if they did, you couldn't afford it and who knows who's brain you'd end up with. Maybe it would be that really smart guy who invented the scientific calculator, but ride like the only brain you'd get is that poor little beauty queen from South Carolina that was so big on YouTube for a while. Scary, right? Wear a helmet. 

The perfect passenger on a great bike. 

Enjoy your ride. Remember to laugh out loud and even feel a little sorry for those people stuck in their cars. Yes, you are sweaty and your thighs are burning, but you aren't stuck at that traffic light ahead because you can take a side street or cut across somewhere they can't take their Denali or BMW. And your ride home didn't cost you more than you'd spend at the local Sonic on a Route 44 and you didn't have to hit the gym because you got the cheese sticks too.  

Happy riding and happier reading, 

  David

Traveling Mercies--A Book Review

“It is unearned love--the love that goes before, that greets us on the way. It's the help you receive when you have no bright ideas left, when you are empty and desperate and have discovered that your best thinking and most charming charm have failed you. Grace is the light or electricity or juice or breeze that takes you from that isolated place and puts you with others who are as startled and embarrassed and eventually grateful as you are to be there.” 

"My heart was broken and my head was just barely inhabitable."

     

   Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott is a book that feels akin to getting to watch someone slowly and majestically discover something you've grown to love over a small lifetime of experience. The spin of a tire, the smell of a flower, the brightness of the sun's early morning rays, the joy found in the smallness of things. This book is about Lamott's journey to Christ in these tiny, gawky steps made of full awkward, common moments that we've all forgotten are truly and daily miracles. Most of us wake each day forgetting or even worse, never even contemplating, how many constant miracles surround us and how many miracles take place before we even put the key into the ignition to begin our work day. Lamott's account of her journey to Christ is story of discovery and a story of hope, but most of all it is a story about the greatest daily miracle: that Christ is still saving people from themselves and He is still making all things new. 

   

"I was sitting through the sermon now every week and finding that I could not only bear the Jesus talk, but was interested, searching for clues. I was more and more comfortable with the radical message of peace and equality, with the God in whom Dr. King believed. I had no big theological thoughts but had discovered that if I said Hello?, to God, I could feel God say, Hello, back. It was like being in a relationship with Casper. Sometimes I wadded up a Kleenex and held it tightly in one fist so that it felt like I was walking hand and hand with him."

     Reading Anne Lamott's, Traveling Mercies, was a constant exercise in removing the great sequoia-sized log from my own eye for almost every page. I say this because each day I forget the most important and the most profound item in my life and that is Jesus Christ saved me; the most sinful person on the planet. Period. I forget it. I take it for granted. I let whole days and weeks go by without really focusing on it. I, like the pharisees of old, look down from my self-built perch and say I understand grace and doll out mercy of my own making. I choose not to be floored by the fact that Jesus came back after conquering the cross, defeating sin and death, and descending into the very depths of hell to a small beach and helped the scared disciples feel the peaceful and commonness of the weight of living fish and taunt ropes in their hands and arms and he spoke calming and reassuring words to Peter; the man who had denied him. I choose to ignore the woman who just wanted to touch the hem of Jesus' robe. I choose to pretend I comprehend what it must have felt like to have my father turn his back on me and all for someone I knew was not going to be loyal to me or love for a whole hour. I, instead, feel as if I am doing God favors by praying to him and obeying him on occasion. I choose to bless God with my presence in church some days. I look at others who were not raised like me and don't believe like me with a great and secret disdain. I know this is true because I wish it were not. 

   

      A wise man once gave me marriage advice and told me to each day wake up knowing I am the most sinful person in my marriage and to constantly give my spouse half the grace and mercy she is giving me and I will have a long and happy marriage. I should be doing this to others and I am not. Lamott reminded me each night before I let my eyes shut of who I really am. Lamott knows who she is and she will let you, the reader, know. Lamott hasn't read all the right books. She doesn't understand God or really know who He is. She is not exactly sure about her salvation experience, but knows she needs saving. She doesn't understand grace, but knows she needs it. She is not exactly sure what she believes about some "key" issues within Christianity. She would side with being a "liberal" Christian every single time as long as grace, mercy, and love are shown. This last point was very convicting for me. Can we ever, ever focus too much on God's grace? Is that even possible?

"It is finally, so wonderful to have learned to eat, to taste and love what slips down my throat, padding me, filling me up, that I'm not uncomfortable calling it a small miracle. A friend who does not believe in God says, 'Maybe not a miracle, but a little improvement', but to that I say, Listen! You must not have heard me right: I couldn't feed myself! So thanks for your input, but I know where I was, and I know where I am now, and you just can't get here from there. Something happened that I had despaired would ever happen. It was like being a woman who has despaired of ever getting to be a mother but who now cradles a baby..."

     Traveling Mercies is not a book one should approach and read if you are looking for all the answers, or a great expounding of Scripture, or even a book like those written by Max Lucado or Joyce Meyer (Lamott may cringe at the thought of being grouped with those authors). Lamott is not a mainstream Christian. She is out on the fringes and she knows this and writes from this perspective. Each chapter is a story that could be self-contained, but when considered within the context of the book at large, there are similarities and I would say that those similarities are faith, grace, and brokenness. Each story is easily read and almost feels like modern day versions of the stories of all the people who come to Jesus when he was on earth because they had tried everything else and nothing had worked. Lamott's story is the same. It is all of our story, no matter the details. We stand at the edge of the Garden and we are not allowed in, but that is the only place we will ever find the peace we seek.

  Lamott's a great writer and is gifted at more than just putting sentences together. I disagree with so much that she writes about, but am glad I took the time to read her wonderful book. I feel it is so important to be reminded of how broken this world is and the people that fill it up and how powerful God's work is and how it is still spreading through time and throughout humanity in the smallness of items that we'd never expect it and is still shaming the wisest among us. And that redemption is nothing like what we think it is because we do not contemplate eternal and complete things and we've so badly twisted the ideas of goodness and grace that we'd fall prostrate ourselves like the prophet Isaiah once did if we ever got a glimpse of what they really meant. Lamott has seen a little of it and she will never be the same. I feel moments of it and it makes it hard to even breathe.

Happy reading and an even happier Saturday,

David

A Poem for Monday

BY CHANCE,

OF COURSE

WHILE ATTENDING THE ANNUAL CONVOCATION

OF CAUSE THEORISTS AND BIGBANGISTS AT THE

LOCAL PROVINCIAL RESEARCH UNIVERSITY, THE

MAD FARMER INTERCEDES FROM THE BACK ROW

"Chance" is a poor word among

the mazes of causes and effects, the last

stand of these all-explainers who,

backed up to the first and final Why,

reply, "By chance, of course!" As if

that tied up ignorance with a ribbon.

In the beginning something by chance

existed that would bang and by chance

it banged, obedient to the by-chance

previously existing laws of existence

and banging, from which the rest proceeds

by logic of cause and effect also

previously existing by chance? Well,

when all that happened who was there?

Did the chance that made the bang then make

the Bomb, and there was no choice, no help? 

Prove to me that chance did ever

make a sycamore tree, a yellow-

throated warbler nesting and singing

high up among the white limbs

and the golden leaf-light, and a man

to love the tree, the bird, the song

his life long, and by his love to save

them, so far, from all the machines.

By chance? Prove it, then, and I

by chance will kiss your ass.

--Wendell Berry

Pardon the language. Persevere through your Monday. Take time to enjoy something real.

Happy Reading,

   David