A Cricket in . . .

A Cricket in . . .

At night I read different books to our kids. We try to read classics and books that have a history of inspiring people. We like to read the book and see how they compare to the movie. There has only been one we liked the movie better, but that is for a different day. We have read stories from Chronicles of Narnia, to Pilgrims Progress (updated to contemporary language), to the Guardians of Ga'hoole.

We recently finished a little book that we were all surprised by. I must make a few confessions first.
1. I didn't want to read the book. I thought a story about a cat, mouse, and cricket would be boring and ridiculous.
2. The book got misplaced about a third of the way through. No, I did not hide it, it legitimately got lost in the Abyss we refer to as the "kids' room".
3. I was disappointing when we found it, but the kids were excited.
4. I cried at the end of the book. (No I didn't see that coming.)

This little book is "The Cricket in Time Square" by George Selden and illustrated by Garth Williams. It was published in 1960 and won a Newbery Award in 1961. It is about a cricket, Chester, who inadvertently moved to, you guessed it, Time square subway station. He gets found by a little boy, Mario, whose family own a newspaper stand. He has several adventures of going to china town to get a cricket cage, becoming a famous singer, and learning the big city. He makes two other friends, Tucker mouse and Harry cat. That is all I will say about the story.

 
This is a beautifully well written story of friendship. Unlikely friendships that developed and the love that grow between them. It is a story of selfless encouragement and different beauty around us. There are many valuable lessons from this story. My favorite lesson is that we are made unique. Unique gifts and talents. Unique backgrounds and experiences. Unique qualities that some times have to be learned or purposefully listened for.

If this story is not on your shelf, it should be in your lap. It is so funny and moving. There are not many stories that have touched me like this one has. Why? Well, I think for me, I was a country cricket who had spent time with wonderful people, in different places, but finally had to go home. I loved the people I was with, and the places I lived. They have made a long lasting, eternal even, impact on my life. I believe, I made an impact on other's lives where I was at. But I, like Chester Cricket, had to return home. The draw of the mountains, the smell of the rains, the love of the people all pulled me into this hollow in the mountain to use my gifts and abilities for the glory of God.

As I read about Chester and his friends, my mind flew back over the last several years. The friends that encouraged me. The people who told me they were praying for me. The lessons that I learned. The unlikely heroes I met. The friends I have left in other places. I, like Chester cricket, have a lot to be thankful for, and a lot of people who love me.

May you, like Chester Cricket, sing your song for all to hear, as only you can sing it.

Dad Day: Chucking Tomahawks

What guy, in his right mind, having grown up watching westerns and revolutionary war movies doesn't long to know how to through a Tomahawk. Even if I wasn't raised in the mountains and didn't spent all my early years in the woods, I would love to know how to throw one  properly, accurately, and consistently. After all, what red blooded American Man hasn't thought of needing to go all Benjamin Martin if the red coats re-invade the states.

In our house we try to learn as much as we can about how things were done 100 plus years. They were geniuses back then and our thought is this will help learn creative problem solving, self sustainability and it's just flat out cool. We planted the "Three Sisters" Indian crops this summer, corn, beans and squash. They did amazing and we have enjoyed eating them. We have learned to shoot archery and guns. We learn to harvest woodland vegetables and mushrooms. We learned to throw Tomahawks.

Now I must admit, I have always wanted to learn to properly throw a Tomahawk. That is way up there on my list. I don't mind if my kids learn to throw them. I didn't expect it to be like this, however.

It started out as any family outing, setting up the tents, taking hikes, fussing about playing in the fire that only I should be playing in. We did the interpretive stuff around the park and had a great time. Friends that we like to hang out with were there. We ground cornmeal and got to take a big bag of it home. But the whole weekend was leading up to the Tomahawk throwing.

I thought there would be some beardy mountain man looking feller with a coyote skin hat, leather satchel, and lace-up buck skin moccasin boots.  I also thought there would be a safe distance, well marked perimeter, and guy that would DEMONSTRATE how cool he was by throwing tomahawks in dozens of different ways and distances never missing.

Elijah throwing and Caleb watching.

When I pull up in the truck from loading all our camping gear, there is one old man. I mean helped Daniel Boone blaze the trail across Pine Mountain and decided to just stay there old, with a string of 7-9 year old boys lined up with looks of pure exstacy and adventure in a trance as metal weapons sliced through the air in a terrifying dance of deadly summer-saws. Then just at the split second when you think the dance will end, they spring back through the air with an encore of misguided ricochets that reminds you of a Miley Cyrus performance. The weapon then falls into the leaves waiting for its little dance instructor to come and give it new life in its next chilling routine.


But there are two throwers, at the same time. As the little Mahican goes after his tomahawk, . . . you guessed it, the next kid releases his macabre dance of terror.

Gasps sucked the dried leaves from around the area as moms closed their eyes, babies cried, and men fainted. Actually the men didn't notice. We just wanted to throw, and we are coaching our kids to properly throw a weapon we have never attempted in all our live long days.

We wanted to get our hands on those little axes and release our inner William Wallace.

I would love to tell you this scene only played once, and some one went over and helped the little old guide control this band of blood thirsty woodsmen. No, it happened a couple of times, exactly like that. So, finally when my loving, caring, protecting wife had practically hyperventilated, and our friend was ready to scalp someone, I went over.

Lucas throwing and Mollie getting ready.

They were a good bunch of kids and we talked about safety and how it was like shooting a BB gun or archery. How we had to wait, watch and listen to everything going on around us. We had to watch out for others around us. How this was a weapon that deserved the same respect as other weapons. I was instilling in these strange boys life lessons that would make them better men and husbands.  I was shaping them into respecters of people and tools. I was the Jedi Knight training these young unknown padawans. Their mothers would thank me with words of undying gratitude. Their fathers would hear my prophecy and carry them on. It was a good day. Nobody had died, yet.

Targets were cross cut logs with 2x4's nailed onto it and one boy knocked the leg off. Some dads went over to pick it up and nail it back on, so the fun would continue. The throwers were all back were they were suppose to be. The hawks were pointed down. Everyone's eyes were on the dads who had stepped up to save the day. Then, it happened. The tomahawk came up and released into the air without anyone noticing. It's sick little dance was short and like all the others, bounced off the second log with morbid desire to take life and limb. It wanted to continue it's dance, not settling for the mere wood stump it was sent flying at. Oh no, it leaped up into the air cart-wheeling itself towards it's new destination and landed with a ghastly curtsy next to the leg of the dad of the thrower.

There was that movie perfect moment when every breath stopped and every brain had to process what had just happened. When time stood still as every person there locked eyes on that weapon that stared at the ankle it had so wanted to find.

It was a good weekend. Nobody died. Nobody was injured. But there was a lesson learned there that was not taught by me or any other dad. Lessons we learn the hard way. Lessons that teach louder than words and are carried on to the next generations. Lessons that as men are never chucked away.

We like learning new things, especially traditional hands-on skills. As for the Estep household, the kids did well, and listened as good as any other kid. They even made them stick a few times. I know what you really want to know, and I don't think we will be getting throwing tomahawks any time soon.

Go do something new this week.

Dying to Love

The fairy tale "Phatasties" by George MacDonald ends (spoiler alert) with the main character dying in his "fantasy" (a type of literature, not a delusional dream) in Fairy Land having never reached the woman that he wanted to love him. He chased her all across Fairy Land, through many strange and magical forest, castles, and terrain. Finally, visiting her through a magical door, in a Scrooge sees the present christmas sort of way, he learns she does love him, but loved a knight more. At the end of the story the hero saves a multitude of worshipers of a false god, but selflessly dies in the process. As he is in his grave here is his realization.

"I knew now, that it is by loving, and not by being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another; yea, that, where two love, it is the loving of each other, and not the being loved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness."

During his time overseeing the lady and the knight talking about him through the magical door, they talk about how he had done no great things. How he just aimlessly wandered hoping to find her. This caused him to consider his life. What he does and how he "loved". He realizes it was all selfish.

We can't really blame the hero. Actually, I think we are all like him. Until we learn to sacrifice ourselves, we cannot come near the soul of another. Until we learn to put our beloved first, we cannot be assured of their blessedness.

We see it all the time when two young people start "dating". If one is "dominate" then the other looses their life and identity to be with the other person. For argument's sake lets say the female is the dominant one. He will have to give up hanging out with his friends. He will have to always go to her house. He will always be defending why he talks to that other girl all the time in that class. He will give up his hobbies, because she needs him to help her bathe her dog. He will stop making plans with friends because he doesn't know what is going on. This would be a selfish love on the black widows part, because she is forcing someone to love her and devouring his life.

When Jesus, the apostles, and God talk about love it is always in the actions, thoughts, and emotions of how we interact with others. When Jesus said to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength (Matthew 22:37), he says nothing about God giving us anything. When he says to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:39), he doesn't talk about receiving anything in return. When Jesus talks about loving our enemy and praying for them (Matthew 5:43-48), he doesn't say they will come around or be reconciled. It is completely for the one who loves.

Of course, we cannot talk about love without looking at the list of characteristics in 1 Corinthians 13, it is list for the lover. The lover is to be patient, in turn it gives his beloved (which is anyone he comes in contact with, not just a spouse) freedom and safety. When it says the lover is not to keep records of wrong doings, it is so he can truly love as God does and forgives. Love protects, hopes, trusts, perseveres. All of this benefits both people, but it is the lover who is being made perfect by these virtues (Matthew 5:48).

Song of Songs, the holiest song in the Bible, is about two people making preparations to wholly give themselves to the other person. They are not singing about what the other will do for them, but what they will do for the other. They are not describing what they will receive, but what they will give. In this beautiful ballad, we see the purity of unrestrained love and how the other is blessed by it. As MacDonald put it, these two souls were becoming nearest each other because they are loving each other.

Now personally,I cannot find in myself to think of loving my enemies, the Taliban, Democrats (just being funny), that crazy neighbor, or sometimes even family like is described in 1 Corinthians or Song of Songs. When I pray for them it is more like one of David's "God will you smite them down, O mighty smiter" type prayers. But by loving and praying for them, we might come closest to their soul, allowing us the opportunity to be a blessing and be made perfect. Hopefully though, you will not have to learn it by strangling a demon wolf god to death while dying in a fairy land

Cowardly lions

The past couple of months a reoccurring theme has popped up over and over. I didn’t really notice it at first, but this theme has been consistent in lots of areas and came from lots of places. This theme that keeps coming up is courage. I have read about it in my devotionals. I have been slowly working my way back through a book I read several years ago, and courage has come up in it in the last couple of chapters.  I also have always thought I relate best to the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz. If I only had some courage.

GK Chesterson defines courage as a contradiction. He says courage is “A STRONG DESIRE TO LIVE TAKING THE FORM OF A READINESS TO DIE.” In other words I want to live so much that I am ready to die for it. He uses examples like someone lost at sea, continuing to swim. Or military personnel caught in a fire fight. If they loose that desire to live, then they just give up and they will surely die. If they loose the readiness to die  then they become cowards. 

Courage is a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die.This isn’t just for people on the brink of death. This isn’t just for the men and women of the military. Jesus said this is for every believer. Jesus said this to his disciples “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25) 

What is there to be afraid of here in America today. The church is not persecuted. We are not slaves. We do not fear soldiers, or secret police in our midst ready to bust through the doors with guns to arrest us. I know all of this, yet there is still a part of me that is afraid. There is still that person inside of me, or maybe spirit outside of me that says, “you shouldn’t share the gospel with them, it might offend them.” Or “Show people the love of God by just your actions.” And my favorite is, “what if they find out what you are really like? That you are not the perfect Christian,” I have the strong desire to live, with people, to be liked. I lack the readiness to die, to put myself out there, to vulnerable to people and share my faith. 

Jesus also said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” I used to think great, he is all around me. I’m protected on all sides and nothing can get to me. That wasn’t necessarily true. Things did get to me. I’ve learned that doesn’t mean Jesus is just with me, but fights for me. It’s not up to me if someone accepts Christ. It is up to me to share the Gospel with them. It is not up to me to fix problems, It is up to Christ, I have to be available to be used by Christ. The Bible says the battle is already won. That means the problem is in the past with God. The victory is already there. 

When Christ died for us, it took an incredible amount of courage. He wanted to live with his Father and us so much he was ready to die for it. His resurrected life allows His Spirit to be with us. The same spirit that gave Samson incredible strength is in us, the same spirit that caused David to dance before God, is in us. The same spirit that raised Christ from the dead, is in us. So that no matter what we face, we have already won, and that should make us courageous lions.