Money Honey - Another Great Title from my Husband

I read an article in the newspaper entitled, "5 Crucial Tips for Raising Money-Smart Kids," by Jean Chatzky. I found the article very interesting because money interests me and teaching my kids about money interests me. I relate to her statement, "we don't want our kids to make the same mistakes we did."
I have been working since I was probably 10 or 11 and I can't help thinking how much money I wasted. My family moved from Canada shortly after I turned twelve and I remember in Canada having a savings account and my own debit card for my checking account. It must have been a joint account with my dad. I remember going into the bank with him and filling out paperwork. Money from my paper route was deposited automatically into my checking account. I had a lot of discretionary income for a young child and not much discretion. I remember wanting to buy a whole series of books, totaling around $300 if I remember correctly -- books I would have ended up throwing out if I still had them today. I did pay for my first year of college but most of that was saved in the year before college. What happened to the money I made my other teenage years?
Chatzky suggests giving children money to manage, perhaps with an allowance, to help them understand the real cost of items in the real world. She then gives them a list of the types of purchases that will be their responsibility. If you are going to give children your money, I definitely like the idea of giving them a list of the types of things you will not be buying for them anymore. Giving a child an allowance on a regular basis to spend on their own pleasures, I cannot see developing any type of responsibility. It seems that would teach children that money is easy to come by -- that it does not require hard work and sacrifice.
I remember when I was growing up my Grandpa was talking about how we need to relate the money we would spend on a new shirt or an evening out to the time we worked to earn it. If the shirt costs me $20, would I work 4 hours for it? Would it still be worth it?
Also, money that you give a child is not money that is earned. The family has not become wealthier, it has just reallocated its resources. Chatzky states that even her children agree that the money she gives them is a lot different than the money they earn. It holds more value. It is theirs. It is their labor and frustration and reward.
We have had many conversations about how our boys could make money. Their creativity is amazing. Recently my seven year old son set up a stand to sell drinks and snacks. He made $10, but me being the realist that I am, (some may call it dream-crushing) I explained to him how he didn't actually make anything because he had to pay Dad back for his supplies. I hope I didn't discourage his desire to try, but it doesn't seem that I did. Businesses are hard to start. Snacks and drinks may not be a bad idea, but what about location? He decided he should set up a stand at the end of his uncle's driveway and sell pop to his uncle, who drinks more pop than anyone else he knows. He may have just learned an important lesson about marketing.
Jean Chatzky advises parents to motivate their children to save. She has found a dollar-for-dollar match to be effective. Sometimes it is not possible to put aside money for our children, even if we would like too, but we can definitely teach them to save their own money responsibly. We tell our boys to separate any money they get into four even portions. Then they give away one pile. I let them decide where they would like to help. We talk about the needs around the world and in our town or our church. My two older boys have read through Randy Alcorn's, Treasure Principle, which is a book I highly recommend. I want them to learn to store up treasure in heaven, to invest in the things that matter to God.
One pile is theirs for spending. I tell them this pile is for any thing they would like to buy for themselves or as they get older, it could be for monthly living expenses.
The last two portions are for saving. I try to keep the future in front of them. For example, even though they are years away from having a license to drive, we talk about their older cousin who is about to drive. I encourage them to ask him if he plans to buy a vehicle and I tell them some day if they keep saving they will be able to buy their own vehicle. We talk about people they know who are in college and how they can go to college too with the savings they are working on now. We talk about buying computers and some day houses.
We do need to be wise with our money, but also realize that it is God who gives the power to get wealth. It's amazing how hard and long we can work on saving only to have something unexpected come up that uses all of what we have saved. Our money can never be our security.
I hope our children can learn without making the same mistakes we did. I also hope they will grow in faith that we serve a God who is bigger than our money.

Waiting

What does God want from our lives? I know what I am suppose to do today and tomorrow. Isn't that enough?
I know we need to move -- although I can never seem to explain why to anyone else. Sometimes I feel like Abraham. Called to go somewhere, but not knowing where. Wanting to do something that matters for eternity but feeling like we have no direction on what that is. Obviously this includes teaching our children the best we can to love and obey God, honoring God through our marriage, loving our neighbors, etc... The list could go on and on. So why this restlessness?
God says He gifts His people to serve the church. But what are our gifts? Or what if the church doesn't see the same gifts or any gifts?
Moses was 80 when God called him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Caleb was in his eighties when God used him to wage a war for a mountain. Isaac and Rebekkah waited 20 years for God to give them a son.
Waiting. We are not too old to wait longer. I've heard that God can use someone of any age -- that in a symphony not all the instruments play at the same time. So our instruments are silent and we wait.

Pending Birth

Often I have thought of physical pain and how it is a relief that it happens so quickly. One minute you are riding your bike and the next you are laying on the sidewalk with a gash on your forehead. One minute you are buckling your child into the vehicle and shutting the door, the next your thumb is black and blue and you feel faint. Of course initial pain may be fast, but enduring the pain and healing may take longer. I am glad we don't know all the ways we are going to hurt ourselves.
Labor is different. You know it will hurt. You know it will come. What if you had a week to think about slamming your shin with a sledgehammer. You knew you were going to do it, just not yet. Could I lift the sledgehammer?
God will not take me to birth and then abandon me. He will not lead me somewhere that He is not. Still I do not like pain. I am not fearful now. I am ready to be free. It seems the hardest time for me not to be fearful is when I am laying awake in bed at night.
I cannot quite believe that we might have a baby. I pulled some baby clothes out of a box and washed them. I hope we will use them.
For the record, I think it will be a girl born on September 6th (Labor Day) weighing 8lbs 3oz. Of course logically I should guess a boy born September 11 weighing 7lbs 10oz.
My husband guesses it will be a boy born September 15th weighing 7lbs 2oz.
My mom guesses it will be a girl born September 8th weighing 8lbs 1oz, and my sister guesses it will be a boy born September 10th weighing 7lbs 6oz.

Filthy Rich

When my husband first met my mom, she asked him what he wanted to do with his life. He told her he planned to be filthy rich. (The things a guy will say to win a girl!) So with promises of riches we started our journey of married bliss. But one thing I wonder. Where did the riches go? I have a sneaking suspicion we may have missed the mark. We have all heard the "redneck" jokes. I think I could make my own version from personal experience.

You may not be filthy rich if...

... the thrift store rejects the donation you brought, and had been using, because "no one would want that."

... the man behind you in the grocery store check-out line offers to buy your $2.00 sausages.

... an elderly lady at church tells you she heard of a place giving away free clothing and couldn't think of anyone who could use that, except your family.

... a stranger stops you in the parking lot to give you the name and number of his friend, who happens to have a van that she wants to send to the junkyard, even though "it's nicer than yours."

Before we were married, my husband's sister asked me if I chose Eric for his personality or his looks. I thought this was a silly question because to marry someone for his looks is about as futile as marrying someone for his money. Oh, who am I kidding, I married him for his money, but I'll keep him for his looks. :)

Eternal Rest

Just thinking about rest again this morning. Israel was delivered by God's mighty hand from the slavery of the Egyptians. Then they began their journeys in the wilderness, all the time seeking that promised land from God. Many did not enter the promised land because of their unbelief, but those that remained were led by Joshua into the promised land. The promised land was God's rest for them.
But God says there is still a rest waiting for God's people. Isn't Canaan, the promised land, a picture of Heaven, our promised land? Perhaps we are wandering in the wilderness now. Maybe it feels a little like we are being bit by fiery serpents, or traveling in circles with no purpose, or maybe just extremely tired and weary. But there is a rest waiting for us. That rest is eternal freedom. That rest is eternal joy. That rest is a rest from trial, from tears, from separation, from sin. We toil now, but one day we will be forever with our Lord in our promised land. Let us not fail to enter this rest because of our unbelief. Let us thank God for our eternal rest.

Day of Rest

This past Saturday my husband took the three older boys for the day while I stayed home with Caden, the youngest. I did some straightening around the house, spent some time with my sister and steam-cleaned the carpets, which desperately needed to be done. Eric jokes that I just don't know how to sit. The next morning at church someone asked how I enjoyed my day of rest, referring to my Saturday with most of the family gone. I was a little confused at first because I had worked hard that Saturday, but also because I realized I really do consider Sunday my day of rest. I wasn't sure how to answer because my day of rest was just starting.
I haven't mastered getting all the kids fed, clean and ready for church in a restful manner, but that is a small portion of the day. I quickly forget the rush as I sit among friends at church. We drop our children off at their classes and then go to our class. I enjoy the class so much -- talking with friends, or just listening, sharpening our minds and lives. Often during the morning service I feel like I spend more time instructing my children than listening, but over all it is still restful. After all I do get to sit, and my husband is usually with me. On Sundays I get Eric all day long. Every other day there are responsibilities that keep us going, often in different directions, but on Sunday we never feel like we should be working. On Sunday we can be together. On Sunday we are both there all day to help with the kids. Although on Sundays, even with the children I get a break because we drop all their scheduled responsibilities they worked on during the week. It can be very tiring pushing new skills and truths into their minds. On Sunday we rest from their Scripture memorization, catechism, math facts, reading, and any other chores except what is necessary.
We are in the process of remodeling our basement, but on Sundays the mess and projects can wait. Sundays are freedom. The tasks before us may try to enslave us, but on Sunday the victory is ours.
After church we go to my mom's house for lunch. I truly enjoy a break from cooking. Helping prepare food and even cleaning up in someone else's kitchen just seems so much better for some reason. My sister and brother-in-law are there too. We talk and eat and relax.
After we've eaten and visited for awhile, we all lay down to nap or read or do something quietly. This is one of my favorite parts of the day. I tend to feel a little guilty if I nap on a week day, and it rarely happens. But on Sunday we nap every week. It is so refreshing. We usually nap in my mom's air-conditioned basement. It is so cool and dark and peaceful.
After the evening service, there is just about the right amount of time to feed the boys some leftovers and put them to bed. Then Eric and I enjoy the last of our day of rest together before another hectic work week starts.
Just writing this makes me eager for Sunday to come again. I love our day of rest.

Lifeguard

Today my husband saved our lives. Of course it's hard to know what the outcome would have been since he intervened before we actually died. We were swimming in my uncle's pond. My son, Micah, was swimming beside me holding onto a floatation device. When we got near the center and were starting back the twenty feet to shore, he began to panic and let go of his floatation device and grabbed me instead.
I couldn't hold both him and me up and I went under the water. I came to the surface after much groping and kicking. It felt like my one chance for rescue. I called out for Eric and went under again.
It feels like forever when you are under the water and you look up and you see the light but cannot seem to get to it. I remember coming up at one point and gasping for air before I went under again and I remember at some point seeing Eric near us swimming in the water. He held on to Micah, but he couldn't get him to let go of me. Desperately I cried out, "Hit him. Hit him." I had heard that sometimes you need to disable a person somewhat so that you can save them. It's like Micah possessed some kind of crazed animal strength.
Now with two panicked people, Eric began to wonder if three of us would eventually be pulled under. But somehow he was able to release me from Micah's grasp allowing me to swim to safety and then he brought Micah to the shore.
Eric had jumped in wearing his pants and T-shirt and now stood on the shore dripping wet. He is our hero. I wondered later, if Eric were gone and unable to save us, if we would eventually all come to some tragic end.

Valuable Life

We have very recently begun reading through Humility: True Greatness by C.J. Mahaney at our church. Although the book has been insightful and I am looking forward to reading more, it was a line from the forward that really stood out to me.
Joshua Harris, author of the forward, tells how C.J. Mahaney, trained and mentored him as a young man and then passed on his pastorate to him. He is using this as an example of humility in Mahaney's life -- to see someone that God can use and invest in that life and instead of claiming glory for yourself, prepare that person for ministry -- even your own ministry. Harris goes on to say that this example of humility shown to him has inspired him to also invest in the life of another.
He writes,

Though I've just begun my ministry at Covenant Life, C.J.'s example has inspired me to look ahead to when I can make the same handoff to the next leader of our church. Who knows? That ten-year-old boy running down the church hallway might one day be sitting behind my desk. And when that day comes, I hope I'll have the same humility of heart that C.J. has shown me.

I love how he looks at a young child as the possible future leader of a church. I love to know that there are men in the world that see potential in young boys, that see a life that God can use, that see more than noise and dirt.
Obviously not all boys will grow up to be pastors, but each boy can grow up to be a leader in righteousness, a leader in humility, a leader in love. We are shaping the minds and hearts of a generation.

Blogging

I saw this on a friend's facebook status.

"Blogging -- Never have so many had so little to say to so few."

I think it might be true.

Whose Pain is Worse?

A Grace Disguised by Gerald L. Sittser was a book that was recommended to us shortly after our son died. Honestly I have not yet finished reading it because I kept wanting to journal my thoughts as I went through the book. So, it waits patiently in my nightstand. But I have been influenced by his wisdom and since I cannot write better, I will now quote from Gerald Sittser.
"We tend to quantify and compare suffering and loss. We talk about numbers killed, the length of time spent in the hospital, the severity of abuse, the degree of family dysfunction, the difficulty and inconvenience of illness, the complexity of details during a divorce…."
And we could add so many more qualifiers. Our minds seem to have no trouble comparing and sizing up one thing against another.
Sittser continues,

But I question whether experiences of such severe loss can be quantified and compared…What makes each loss so catastrophic is its devastating, cumulative, and irreversible nature…I talked with a woman whose husband was recently killed in a plane crash. I heard about three women who are battling breast cancer. I met with a couple whose daughter was the survivor of an automobile accident that took the life of a passenger. I heard about a man who has struggled with unemployment or professional frustration for many years now. I learned of a couple who have exhausted every medical option in their battle against infertility. I know of a man whose business is on the brink of bankruptcy…Everywhere there is pain, human misery, and tragedy.

Now I sit here crying over pain that I just read about in a book. I have been told that the more pain you endure the less tears you shed, the more devastating the pain has to be to affect you. I disagree. I feel like the more pain I experience the more emotional I become. These stories touch my heart. I relate to their pain. It hurts to be betrayed. It hurts to have your dreams die. It hurts to lose something you love. It hurts to watch your life as you pictured it slowly, or rapidly, crumble around you. It hurts to feel that you cannot succeed and every turn leads to more failure. Everywhere there is pain.
Sittser writes,

[Comparing loss] can lead to two unhealthy extremes. On the one hand, those coming out on the losing end of the comparison are deprived of the validation they need to identify and experience the loss for the bad thing it is… Their loss is dismissed as unworthy of attention and recognition. On the other hand, those coming out on the winning end convince themselves that no one has suffered as much as they have, that no one will ever understand… that no one can offer lasting help. .. So they indulge themselves with their pain and gain a strange kind of pleasure in their misery.
Each experience of loss is unique, each painful in its own way…The right question to ask is not, “Whose is worse?” It is to ask, “What meaning can be gained from suffering, and how can we grow through suffering?

Truly our Lord Jesus spoke truth when He said, “In the world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.”
I do not want to be known by the pain I’ve experienced. I do not want to wear it as a badge or medal won. How have I grown? How has Jesus overcome the world through me, through this trial?
I am reminded of a quote by Paul David Tripp in his book Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands,

God wants to raise up people filled with hope. True hope is not rooted in my achievements or assets, but in my knowledge that I am the child of the King. He loves me with a love that nothing can take away. He has given me his forgiving and empowering grace. He is daily changing and maturing me. He has promised to give me whatever I need to face what comes my way. And he has promised that I will live with him forever in a place without suffering, sorrow, or sin.. This means that in the most difficult moments of my life… what I really live for is safe and secure.

That is overcoming. I want to be a person of hope and comfort to others as we journey through this pain-filled world on our way to eternal glory.

Beauty

Pregnant women face it all the time -- the fat comments. "Yep, she's round like a pumpkin." "Wow. You're getting fat!" "You remind me of a pregnant cow." And the list could go on and on. Why do women feel that they have to defend themselves after comments like that?
I remember one time at a family gathering going to the buffet line for a second helping during the meal. My cousin cheered me on -- that I would eat even though I am a woman. What is it that makes women think they can't eat?
Some would claim that it's a health issue, but I disagree. As far as I can recall few, if any, have ever expressed any concern about my thin husband's choice of unhealthy snacks.
I think about the women I admire. I admire them for their forgiving spirit, their hope in the midst of trials, their humility and compassion for others, their devotion to prayer. I do not think I have ever said to myself, "I want to be just like that older woman because she is so good-looking." And yet I compare myself to an image of what I think physical beauty should be.
Who decides what is beautiful?
I do not think we can say that beauty is unimportant. I know God says that a woman is to adorn herself with a gentle and quiet spirit. In I Samuel, God tells us that man looks on the outward appearance, but He looks on the heart. That's why He choose David for King, but in the next few verses God tells us that David is good-looking. God made a beautiful world. Little girls seems to naturally like dresses and twirling and bows. It seems to be something God created them with. Maybe our view of beauty is just too limited. A man typically does not marry a woman that he does not find attractive, but his opinion could be different than the next man's opinion. Maybe a better view would be to think that we are all beautiful in our own way -- created beautiful, somehow to portray the beauty of the Creator. We are fearfully and wonderfully made.

God's Unconditional Love

Really there's nothing exceptional about my family. No one is particularly intelligent, or good-looking, or talented, well, maybe Eric is. I just love them because they are mine.
I am glad I belong to God and he loves me just because I am His.

A Willing Heart

Sometimes giving is easy and sometimes it's not. I am not saying that sometimes giving is sacrificial and sometimes we just give a budgeted amount. It's sacrificial almost every time for us. To the world we would be absolutely crazy. But sometimes it's easy to give. Sometimes it's easy to trust and know that God will provide what we need. Sometimes with a cheerful heart we easily give to support a cause we whole-heartedly believe in or to help a friend.
But then there are the times when giving is hard. When I cringe just a little as I decide how much to give to those that are hurting and desperately in need around me. Yes, it does sound selfish, but the Bible says that every man can proclaim his own goodness, but who can find a faithful man? I do not mean to proclaim my own goodness. Everyone proclaims their own goodness. I just want to be honest. (And pray that God would change me to be more like Him.) Didn't He give sacrificially? He gave everything. Someone might say that He knew He would gain it all back again. But don't we know the same thing? Don't we know that in Heaven we will never regret the treasure we have laid up there? And yet still I feel like I am holding tightly to earthly treasure.
This past week someone wrote us a generous check. I am grateful for it and I know it could be so helpful in so many ways, but now I am being asked to give most of it away. Wasn't it given to me freely? Shouldn't I freely give? The slight cringe begins. I don't want to. I have been reading through Exodus. The Israelites gave items to build the tabernacle -- so much and so willingly that eventually Moses told them to stop giving. I was convicted by my unwillingly heart.
On one hand the things I want seem so unimportant. God says that having food and clothing we should be content. Why do I have to want more? On the other hand I want to justify myself -- perhaps, it's more than food and clothing, but it's not more than anyone else would think is perfectly reasonable.
Then I wonder if I just don't trust God. Someone else needs the money now and what I would spend the money on isn't required for a few months. Can't I trust God to bring more money then?
Or maybe it's just that it seems like the money represents something bigger that God is asking. I think it would be better for our family to live somewhere else. It seems like God is asking if I would be content here, even if I knew it was forever. It reminds me of the movie Up. The wife, always seeking adventure, dreams of going to Paradise Falls, but something always comes up preventing them. In the end she dies without ever having visited Paradise Falls. I didn't see the end of the movie, so I just have what my husband told me, but he said eventually the lonely, old husband makes it to Paradise Falls and in the process befriends a small boy. He discovers his wife's adventure book where she placed pictures of Paradise Falls and finds that she had also put pictures of her life with him in the book and how that was an adventure. He learns that sometimes it's the people and the every day things around you that really matter.
My husband reminds me that if we see our brother in need we must not shut our heart up from him. It brings to mind It's a Wonderful Life. George dreams of traveling and seeing the world. But instead he gives of himself and his money to those around him and never leaves his small home town. He helps so many people even though he feels like he doesn't do anything. Can I do that? Can I sacrifice my dreams for my brother?
I really don't even know if I will have to sacrifice what I want completely. Some day God may lead us somewhere else. Just right now it seems that God is asking -- Would you sacrifice? Would you stay here forever? Would you be content if your life was always what it is right now?
I am not ready to answer.

God Gave Breath

I wonder how many near death experiences I can survive before my children leave home. It's no wonder grandparents are paranoid -- because they've raised children. Today Caden fell and we couldn't get him to start breathing again. It seemed like forever. The details are all muddled in my mind. I remember Zac crying and hiding behind the corner. I remember the desperation of believing that he was dying and only God could save him now. I called my sister, trying to explain through my cries and hysteria, that little Caden's life was hanging in the balance. I remember my husband leaning over him, the CPR, the call to 911. Then that one beautiful little grunt. He lay flat on his back with his arms stretched out to each side, his eyes closed, his face blue, but making raspy little breaths. Then he started to cry. I was so relieved.
This happened around lunch time. By dinner time I saw his first smile, after dinner he was talking again, and by bedtime he was throwing his diaper in the garbage. I am grateful for his life.

Ouch

My son broke his elbow. Just like that. One day he was fine and the next he had a cast. I've never broken anything and the word broke, just sounds so painful and ruined. In reality though, he is fine now too. It's not hurting him and it will heal. Kids break bones growing up.
Someone asked me if he got enough calcium. Sometimes I think it's my fault that his elbow is broken. That I didn't feed him right making his bones fragile and brittle. I suppose logic should tell me that's probably not true because of all the times he has fallen and not broken anything, still I wonder.

Plans Change

My sister-in-law once said that in some ways it's harder for us missing Danny than for her. She went on to explain that she could get married again, but we won't be getting another son or another brother. Personally if I had a choice between losing a brother and a husband, I would choose a brother. But then, of course it's pointless to compare pain anyways, because that doesn't lead to compassion or help.
I miss my brother.
Yesterday must have been a good day for my sister-in-law because she wrote about the excitement of some day dating again. I sit here and I feel no excitement. I would be very glad for my neices and nephews to grow up with a dad, and I don't want Liisa to be lonely. I wish it could be my brother.
Sometimes I think about the plans Eric and I have made and wonder what I would do if he died. If he dies while I am still in the east, would I move west? I would still want to go, but I would be absolutely crazy to go. Maybe I wouldn't even want to. Who leaves a place surrounded with friends and support and travels to the middle of nowhere -- where they don't know anyone -- in the middle of a crisis. I would have to go where I didn't know anyone or they might feel like they had to take care of me and the boys. Then I would have to learn how to do everything for myself.
What would I do for income? Who could I trust to watch the boys if I needed to go somewhere? This is a crazy idea.
Realistically when someone dies your whole life changes. Even what you thought you wanted changes.
That reminds me of a song.

Yesterday's gone Sweet Jesus,
And tomorrow may never be mine.
Lord, for my sake, teach me to take,
One day at a time.

Moving to the Swamp

So my husband sent a letter to his brother asking for some advice.

He writes...

Shari's uncle, Phil, wants to create an air conditioning system that uses ground water to cool instead of a refrigerant. The whole system should be able to cool a house using far less energy than an typical air conditioner and cost much less in parts and installation. Phil wants to build, test, and franchise the system. (This is not a new concept really - just not being done using low-end conventional parts making it affordable for the average homeowner.)
Phil has proposed that I come to Florida, perhaps for a year, and oversee the construction on his rural 20 acres of the building we would use to test the air conditioning units. (We would need to build a small building in order to properly test the unit). Once the building and testing are complete he wants to frame another house on a different property he owns and try to sell it. He has workers but they need oversight since they aren't always reliable so he has asked if I would be willing to do this.

In return...

He will pay enough potentially to end the year debt free with some money in the bank.

But...

We will live in a half-finished mobile home in alligator land with a neighbor who is anti-social. Now by anti-social I mean he shoots first and doesn't ask questions. He once shot at the tow truck drivers Phil hired to tow one of his old trucks off the property. Perhaps this an understandable mistake, seeing that a couple nights earlier some kids did try to steal the tires off the truck. He shot at them too. He succeeded in scaring them off -- at least until they could gather a lot more help. Apparently they believed that with greater numbers if some went down with bullet wounds there would still be others to finish the job and get the tires.
We will have a pond on the property with plenty of water moccasins (the worlds' most poisonous snakes) and Phil says that he and his wife have only been bitten by scorpions a couple of times. There's no need to be concerned about the snakes though -- just mow the grass a lot. It's normal to mow over some snakes which is good because the ones that get out of the way are the non-poisonous kind who are much quicker and eat the poisonous kind that happen to survive the lawnmower.
On the plus side we hear that most of the poisonous snakes were burned up in the fire the neighbor started when he decided he wanted to have a bonfire during a drought when there was a ban on all fires. He burned down the neighborhood's trees (and his own trailer and truck) and then fled under death threats from the other neighbors. Some of them were counting on the lumber value of the trees now destroyed as their retirement fund. The local police officers advised the guy who burned down the trees that he really should run if he valued his life.
Good did come from the fire though. It caused a type of plant commonly thought of as a weed in the area to produce fruit; which they discovered was worth $2.50 per pound as a supplemental herb. Because of the drought most other sources for this fruit weren't producing, but the burned neighborhood had thousands of pounds. So Phil purchased a trailer and agreed to haul this fruit to the purchasing factory if the people in the neighborhood would simply harvest the fruit and dump it into the trailer. They would have profited nicely except that no one bothered to harvest it because it was too much work to get off the couch. (Although my wife says the diamond back rattlesnakes that hide under those bushes would have deterred her.)
One of the guys I would be overseeing is named Bubba. He's a really good worker I am told, if he feels like working. Sometimes he doesn't, because he's one of the 70 percent of males unemployed in the area. Why bother with work once you have enough for beer? And why bother with meals when beer has calories anyway?
Of course I could always drive into town if I get bored and see the beautiful Panama City who's entire industry is built around the couple weeks of the year when college kids come to get stone drunk and naked and cops never enforce underage drinking laws since that would hurt the local economy. When you walk into the grocery stores the first thing you see is a mountain of beer stacked for your convenience since their beer sales might plummet if people had to walk any farther than the front entrance to get it. Besides that there are plenty of local sources readily available since most people have an uncle with distilleries anyway.

Okay, so Phil swears he has never seen an alligator on the property - and the neighbors rarely see them either.

So what do you think?

Eric Liddell

I recently finished reading a biography of Eric Liddell. I do actually read books without pictures, in case I was a little misleading earlier. He died so young and yet did so much in his life. Why? Because he was willing? Because God gifted him?
I ran cross country in high school. Although I was never very good, it kind of became this strange addiction. Not the type of addition where I actually do it -- I haven't run much since college. Just the addiction where I dream about winning, about training. The kind of addiction where I am interested in race times and think I could start training again, maybe enter a race. I could run, maybe even win, I just have to push myself even when it hurts. That must be what stops the dreaming -- the pain of actually running.
All that to say I found the stories of Eric Liddell's running career fascinating. One qualifying race for the Olympics, he was cut off and knocked down. Instead of giving up the race, he got back up and started running. Although he was 20m behind he caught up and won the race! He made it to the Olympics. Someone asked him what it felt like to achieve his dream. Instead of talking about the Olympics, the question sent Eric Liddell into reflection. His dream? China was his dream.
At the Olympics the first heat for the 100m race was on a Sunday. He chose not to enter that race even though that's the race he normally performed best. Scotland was upset. Their hero had let them down. Sometime before the race he was handed a piece of paper. He slipped it into his pocket without reading it. Later when he was alone he opened it and read the words from I Sam. 2:30 -- those who honor me, I will honor. He did not take it as a promise that God would give Him victory in the race, just that he had done the right thing by holding to what he believed was right.
As he entered the stadium, American flags were flying; he was not expected to win. He was positioned on the outside track. He knew his only hope of winning was cutting across to the inside lane. At the start amazingly he sprinted across and made it to the inside lane. I found it interesting that his coach, who was clocking him in the stands, was astonished by his speed for the first 200m. It seemed he would never be able to keep up the pace. But he kept going. He won the 400m race and a gold medal. When asked once how he did it, he replied, "I run as hard as I can for the first half, and then in the second half, with God's help, I run even harder."
He could have competed in the Olympic games again. But as I mentioned earlier, his dream was China. A year after the Olympics he left for China and served there until his death almost 20 years later. It was so interesting to read how God used his love for running and sports even in his missionary work with Chinese boys.
At one point he traveled with his family to North America. They made the journey safely even though this was during the war and one of the ships in their convoy was hit and I think sunk. Some might have been grateful to be in a country far away from the war, or even to think that God was protecting them, getting them safely to North America. But when he arrived, he saw his safety as a sign that God was keeping him alive to serve him, so instead of staying he went back to China.
Later, in China, it became more dangerous and he eventally sent his pregnant wife and two daughters to North America again, but he chose to stay. He continued to serve and was eventually imprisioned in an Japanese Internment Camp, where he died from a brain tumor. He never saw his third daughter on this earth.
I think of all he sacrificed. He gave up comfort, security, even family. He gave up running. I could say he gave up fame, but it would be hard for someone so popular to be forgotten; although he did choose not to live in the luxurious and self-exalting life that he could have had.
I am inspired and humbled by this man's life. He was an amazing runner, but a servant of Christ first of all. My life is so easy and so comfortable. What have I ever sacrificed for Christ? How have I left my comfort so someone could hear of God's love and saving power? Why do I seek approval instead of humbly casting it aside for complete surrender to God's desires?
O that I could say with the apostle Paul, "I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ."