As I approached the car I noticed that Lydia had a very sour look on her face. In 14 years I've seen nervous. I've seen happy. I've seen nervous covered up by happy but this was something quite different, definitely a sour look.
Lydia who is 18 passes the Basic Skills and so we go out on the driving portion of the test. Eventually I learn that she had attended a Christian school in town and because I was not familiar with it I asked her what denomination the students came from. That too was new to me but given the name I could guess that it was to the far far conservative side of the Reformed tradition. Around here we have from left to right; Reformed, Christian Reformed, Protestant Reformed and then these guys. I casually remark to Lydia that I suppose when she is looking to get married she is expected to choose someone from her denomination. She tells me that is true and it might be a little difficult because there are only two local congregations and one of them is a little suspect in their theology.
I was able to get Lydia to almost smile a couple of times and being the curious type I did some research on her church when I got home. Although I'm not going to go into any of the particulars just let me say that if I was a woman who attended that church I might look a little sour myself from time to time.
Twice this past week I have been humbled by the example of women who heard from God and were obedient to His lead. God moved through them into the lives and situations of others. They had support from their husbands but the courage was theirs to step out in faith and then trust that God would do His part. My response when hearing their reports is one of logic - Yes, this is the way the Holy Spirit moves, I am pleased and encouraged by the testimonies. On the contrary their response to the move of God included logic plus emotion - We have heard from One who loves them and us, He has blessed the situation, He is so good!
It was to man that God gave the original prime directive. God planted a garden, put man into it to cultivate it and keep it and then caused to grow out of the ground all sorts of trees that were pleasing to the sight and good for food. In the midst of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Before the first woman entered the scene God charged mankind with this command; From the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat from it you shall surely die.
Later on a woman (taken out of man) was placed in the garden to be a helper suitable for man. She was with him when the serpent questioned the prime directive. "Has God said you shall not eat from any tree in the garden? The woman replies that God said they may eat from any of the trees in the garden except for the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, adding that they were not even allowed to touch it or they would die. (My guess is that the man said to the woman one day on a walk; "Honey, see that tree. The fruit'll kill you. Don't even touch it!) The serpent responds; You surely shall not die! For in the day you eat from it your eyes will be open, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.
It was the woman who saw that the tree was good for food and was a delight to the eyes and that it was desirable to make one wise. It was the man standing next to her that did nothing. He let the serpent talk. He watched her pluck the fruit from the forbidden tree and then eat from it. Then when she didn't keel over but instead offered him some he took the fruit from her and ate as well.
For the first time the eyes of both of them were opened and they knew they were naked. In response they sew fig leaves together and make themselves loin coverings. They then hear the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day and attempt to hide among the trees. God finds them and the man does the manly thing, he tries to blame it on the woman.
Later God says to the woman; I will greatly multiply your pain in childbirth, in pain you shall bring forth your children; Yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.
To the man God says; Because you have listened to the voice of your wife and have eaten from the tree about which I commanded you, saying "You shall not eat of it"; Cursed is the ground because of you; In toil you shall eat of it . . . By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground because from it you were taken. For you are dust and to dust you shall return.
Now the Lord God makes garments of skin for the man and the woman and clothes them. Then the Lord God said, "Behold, the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil . . . God banishes them from the garden less they also eat from the tree of life and live forever. Man loses his position as caretaker of the garden with all the benefits that provided. He must now fight the rocks and thorns and thistles to cultivate the ground from which he was taken. The woman would be his partner.
This is the story of all of us. It is where we came from and speaks of who we are and shows us where we are going. Time and space does not permit me to explain to you the love that is in the blood, implied from the skin coverings, which is the story of our redemption. I cannot here show you how many themes are carried throughout scripture that begin with this simple story. Many times I have started here to help explain and understand how God designed us - body, soul and spirit - and what went wrong there by the eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. But not today.
Instead I want to focus now in the most simple way upon the condition of the heart of man, a condition began those thousands of years ago and just as evident today as ever. For the unbeliever it leads to eternal death. For the believer it leads to temporary separation from fellowship with the Father. For both it leads to legalism, with or without religion, that substitutes for the leading of the Holy Spirit.
The Lord God was walking in the garden in the cool of the day. It would seem reasonable to assume that prior to the tree incident man had walked and talked with the Lord God many times. Sometimes they might discuss the needs of the garden. Sometimes God might ask how things are going with the woman. Sometimes God might tell man the story about how he made everything, saw that it was good and rested from His labors. Sometimes God might explain the rebellion of the evil one, the most beautiful creature who was a murderer and liar from the beginning. By walking with God man and woman had all the wisdom they would ever need.
And you will be like God, knowing good and evil. Why did the Lord God place in the midst of the garden the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and then command man and woman not to eat from it? This I do not know. I do know that throughout scripture God tests man to see where his heart is. Will we trust Him even if we don't understand? Do we want Him alone to be our Lord God? Can we admire the beauty of what He has created and still not touch?
I am going to tell you a secret. A lot of people in modern society believe that they are like God, knowing good and evil. As long as they try to live a good life as they themselves define it or are mostly obedient to their particular religion they will be OK. Obey the rules and you will get your golden ticket.
Some think that there is no hope for them, realizing that they have fallen far short of what their religion demands or what they have designed themselves. They believe the hill of redemption is not climbable.
Friends, all of these avenues are nothing but fig leaves.
I will not blame the woman of the story for the state of this world. I will not deny her the chance to walk with the Lord God in the cool of the day by eating from the forbidden fruit and becoming her Lord. I will cherish her and protect her and encourage her to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit. And then we will sit down and admire the beauty of creation and plan how together we can follow this awesome Lord of ours. And when I fall short, as I often do, she will show me what love and compassion and generosity are and tell me what she is hearing the Spirit say.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Simultaneous Translation
When you look at the list of names for the day's tests and see the second to last one is someone identified as Saw Tee thoughts run through your head. Will he or she need a translator? Have they ever driven before this month? Is my will up to date?
Yesterday a car arrives at the appropriate time, a nice Asian gentleman gets out of the vehicle, says "Hello Bob, and then informs me that the guy who will take the test is on the way but will be using this car. Since there are many times when people say they are "on the way" and will be there any moment but then they still have not arrived a half an hour later I tell the gentleman that his friend has 10 minutes to get here or I will not have enough time to conduct the test.
He tells me that he is doing a favor for the pastor of the church that is sponsoring this particular group of refuges, then gets out his cell phone, calls someone, and for several minutes is very insistent with whomever he is talking to, speaking in another language but interspersed with "right now!" Five minutes later another vehicle arrives and out from the back pops Mr. Tee. He is a nice looking, well built guy and I'm guessing he is originally from someplace like Burma or Nepal.
Before they arrived I asked the first guy if he would be translating and because he was I asked to see his driver's license to record the name and license number on my test form. He told me that most people called him Tom. I tell Tom to have Mr. Tee get in the car and we would begin by conducting a vehicle inspection. Tom points to his vehicle and says to Mr. Tee; "Get in car!" I then go to the front of the car and say to tap the horn. "Horn! Beep! Beep!" translates Tom. Then I ask for the right and left turn signals. "Signals!" translates Tom, pointing first to the right one and then the left. At the back of the car I ask for Tee to step on the brakes. "Brakes!" insists Tom to Tee.
I then begin to give the instructions for the parking maneuvers. Now here to get the full impact of my experience I want you practice saying "that way" as Tom would say it. For me to be able to duplicate it I need to first close my eyes as hard as possible and then pronounce "that" a little clipped, as in "tht" and "way" a little elongated and through the nostrils in a higher pitched voice as in "wAAAy". Got it? Good.
I tell Tom to tell Tee that it will be a penalty any time the vehicle goes over a yellow line or hits a cone and that it is also a penalty each time the vehicle goes from reverse to forward. Immediately Tom informs Tee; "Yellow line. Bad! Cones. Bad! Your car go this way, not that way!" Then I point to the yellow forward stop line which is the first exercise and tell Tom to tell Tee that he needs to pull forward and get his vehicle close to but not on or past the yellow line in front of us. When he is done put the vehicle in park and tap the horn. Tom responds; "You go that way! That way! Yellow line bad! Then horn. Beep! Beep!"
We go on with the parking lot portion of the test. About every fifth word is in another language so I'm thinking that maybe Tee really needs a translator but it's like I'm saying something and the echo comes back instantly and everything has somehow become quite garbled. Mr. Tee does quite well on the parking portion and we go out for our drive. The first section is in a residential area. I say to turn left at the next intersection, Tom translates; "Intersection. That way!" We get to the four way stop and Tee blows right through it. We head back to start and I spend a few minutes explaining the error to Tom and Tee using visual aides as best I can. Although Tee hasn't said one word this whole time Tom tells me that Tee doesn't understand why he failed so he will drive him back to the spot and show him.
I get out of the vehicle and head to my car and then Tom walks over. I have 5 more guys that need to get their test. When can we do it? And I'm thinking that I really need to look at that will again.
Yesterday a car arrives at the appropriate time, a nice Asian gentleman gets out of the vehicle, says "Hello Bob, and then informs me that the guy who will take the test is on the way but will be using this car. Since there are many times when people say they are "on the way" and will be there any moment but then they still have not arrived a half an hour later I tell the gentleman that his friend has 10 minutes to get here or I will not have enough time to conduct the test.
He tells me that he is doing a favor for the pastor of the church that is sponsoring this particular group of refuges, then gets out his cell phone, calls someone, and for several minutes is very insistent with whomever he is talking to, speaking in another language but interspersed with "right now!" Five minutes later another vehicle arrives and out from the back pops Mr. Tee. He is a nice looking, well built guy and I'm guessing he is originally from someplace like Burma or Nepal.
Before they arrived I asked the first guy if he would be translating and because he was I asked to see his driver's license to record the name and license number on my test form. He told me that most people called him Tom. I tell Tom to have Mr. Tee get in the car and we would begin by conducting a vehicle inspection. Tom points to his vehicle and says to Mr. Tee; "Get in car!" I then go to the front of the car and say to tap the horn. "Horn! Beep! Beep!" translates Tom. Then I ask for the right and left turn signals. "Signals!" translates Tom, pointing first to the right one and then the left. At the back of the car I ask for Tee to step on the brakes. "Brakes!" insists Tom to Tee.
I then begin to give the instructions for the parking maneuvers. Now here to get the full impact of my experience I want you practice saying "that way" as Tom would say it. For me to be able to duplicate it I need to first close my eyes as hard as possible and then pronounce "that" a little clipped, as in "tht" and "way" a little elongated and through the nostrils in a higher pitched voice as in "wAAAy". Got it? Good.
I tell Tom to tell Tee that it will be a penalty any time the vehicle goes over a yellow line or hits a cone and that it is also a penalty each time the vehicle goes from reverse to forward. Immediately Tom informs Tee; "Yellow line. Bad! Cones. Bad! Your car go this way, not that way!" Then I point to the yellow forward stop line which is the first exercise and tell Tom to tell Tee that he needs to pull forward and get his vehicle close to but not on or past the yellow line in front of us. When he is done put the vehicle in park and tap the horn. Tom responds; "You go that way! That way! Yellow line bad! Then horn. Beep! Beep!"
We go on with the parking lot portion of the test. About every fifth word is in another language so I'm thinking that maybe Tee really needs a translator but it's like I'm saying something and the echo comes back instantly and everything has somehow become quite garbled. Mr. Tee does quite well on the parking portion and we go out for our drive. The first section is in a residential area. I say to turn left at the next intersection, Tom translates; "Intersection. That way!" We get to the four way stop and Tee blows right through it. We head back to start and I spend a few minutes explaining the error to Tom and Tee using visual aides as best I can. Although Tee hasn't said one word this whole time Tom tells me that Tee doesn't understand why he failed so he will drive him back to the spot and show him.
I get out of the vehicle and head to my car and then Tom walks over. I have 5 more guys that need to get their test. When can we do it? And I'm thinking that I really need to look at that will again.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Car Wash
Road construction this summer has limited us to just one route. As we travel on Division Avenue toward 54th street we pass multiple times a day a person holding a "WE BUY GOLD" sign in one hand (the sign also has a rope attached to both sides that slides around the back of the neck) while the other hand waves at whatever traffic flows past. There are two people who share this awesome responsibility. One is a man and the other a woman, both look like they are in their mid 20's and both are obviously "special needs". They never smile and always have this look of grave concern on their faces. Silver and gold have I not but what I have I give them. From my passenger seat I smile and wave back.
One day last week as we are approaching our gold man my cute young teen driver remarks with a condescending tone indicating this is something she would never do; "That looks SO hard!" I respond; "I'm guessing this is one of the few jobs he can get and he's thrilled to have it." I don't think I'm in anyway superior to this teen. If given a chance she might hand a few bucks to the several healthy looking intersection panhandlers we also pass each afternoon on our route while I wonder if McDonald's has stopped hiring.
When I was growing up our extended family had property on the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Many beautiful summer Sunday afternoons and evenings were spent there with my parents, brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles and of course my grandparents who were the part owners of that wonderful piece of real estate. Sometimes other family would also show up, more likely on a Saturday or during the week and in one of those families was a girl who had downs syndrome. She was a few years older than me and I remember my mother saying that kids like her required a lot more effort from parents to raise and that the normal life expectancy for children like her did not extend much longer than 30 years.
When you are a youngster you don't ponder much about getting to thirty. The awfulness of the fact was tempered then by the thought that there was still a long way to go to get there. A more earth shattering concept was delivered to me by my mother the day I turned thirty. "Just think Bob. In just 10 more years you will turn 40!" I think I was depressed for about a month after that little jolt of reality. I'm sure that despite all the extra work, if the parents of my third cousin had received that news they would have thrown a party.
We were not real close to that family and I cannot recall now what ever happened to her or even her name for that matter. I'm sure I would recognize it if mentioned but now since my mind draws a blank I will call her Sarah. She was the first "special needs" person I had known. We did not interact much if at all. I was a boy, she was a girl. I liked jumping into the waves or playing catch or digging and forming sand forts. Sarah stayed close to her mom. What I did pick up, even then, was that Sarah's parents loved her and would do anything for her and that she was family just like the rest of us.
Years later my older sister and husband had what would be their only child. At around the age of two it seemed that Kevin stopped developing mentally. The difficulty of his autism was compounded by physical problems in his legs as well as periodic epileptic episodes. Kevin was the same age as my youngest Becky and you would think, looking through the eyes of the world, that some things are just not fair. Here I was, nothing special but blessed with 5 healthy, bright and active children and there was my sister, fighting everyday for Kevin with officials and authorities so that he could get a break. We could look at our kids and wonder what great things were ahead of them. Carol and Ed would hug Kevin and hope for a good night.
Jackie, the kids and I loved seeing Kevin. He would learn these little sayings and then impress us with them when we got together. I think the best was one time when we were with my brother Jim. Now I have never been overly concerned with my looks. My hair does what it does, my six pack is now a case and I like to wear the same Levi jeans all week. On the other hand Jim has always liked to look good. Every hair on his mustache is trimmed perfectly, he wears stylish clothes and his personal trainer goes by the name of Swen. Kevin was about 16 and in a room full of people including me but he walks over and sticks a finger in Jim's belly and says, gaining steam with each word; "Looks like someone's had ONE TOO MANY HOT FUDGE SUNDAES!" It was just too perfect to forget.
One day Jackie and I came home and received a message on our answering machine that I also will never forget. It was choked out from my sister Carol. "Kevin's dead." Kevin who was then 21 was taking a bath, had an epileptic episode, and drowned. When we went to his funeral in Chicago we met some of his special needs friends, heard stories about what he and his best buddy liked to do, and found out a lot more about the activities he loved, such as archery. Kevin was a blessing. Ed said that there were times when it didn't seem such a blessing, as when Kevin got older (and heavier) and their tandem bike was heading uphill without Kevin's assist. But mostly a blessing.
During a break while I was working on this post Jackie and I went out to a Texas Steak House. Wouldn't you know it, in the booth across from us was a family with a special needs girl who looked about 18. Her moaning was occasionally quite loud but guess what, our steaks were still great. I just smiled. This is life, we are all on this journey together.
One last story. There is a Shell gas station on the North side of Holland on the busy corner of River Avenue and Ottawa Beech Road. During the summer months the station provides a back area for groups to raise money doing car washes. The usual set up is this. I drive by and see two cute girls standing on the corner dressed in bathing suits, sometimes bikinis, and they hold up a car wash sign. Some of these girls are real hawkers. They wave, they point at your car, they yell; "come on buddy, your car is dirty" and since it is I may stop. Often standing next to the two girls is one boy who does no work at all but is just there to chat up the girls. He is often wearing shades. Then when I drive by the area where the cars are being washed I see several kids spraying the hose at several other kids while the cars are being washed by the adults who are supervising their youth group.
One day as I approach I see two girls and a boy at the corner but something looks a little different. As I get closer I notice that these are special needs kids, thick bodies and all, dressed in modest bathing suits, waving their car wash signs. Driving past the washing area I see the rest of the special needs kids spraying the hoses at each other, their parents or supervisors doing the washing. Ha! Kids are kids, where ever, what ever.
We all have a destiny that goes far beyond the fleeting years given us. It calls Sarah, it calls Kevin, it calls the moaning girl from Texas Road House. They are the innocents. It calls us as well. One day I did turn 40 and then 50 and then 60. One day I will stop turning and some wag might inscribe on my grave stone; "Look's like someone's had ONE TOO MANY HOT FUDGE SUNDAES!'
One day last week as we are approaching our gold man my cute young teen driver remarks with a condescending tone indicating this is something she would never do; "That looks SO hard!" I respond; "I'm guessing this is one of the few jobs he can get and he's thrilled to have it." I don't think I'm in anyway superior to this teen. If given a chance she might hand a few bucks to the several healthy looking intersection panhandlers we also pass each afternoon on our route while I wonder if McDonald's has stopped hiring.
When I was growing up our extended family had property on the shoreline of Lake Michigan. Many beautiful summer Sunday afternoons and evenings were spent there with my parents, brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles and of course my grandparents who were the part owners of that wonderful piece of real estate. Sometimes other family would also show up, more likely on a Saturday or during the week and in one of those families was a girl who had downs syndrome. She was a few years older than me and I remember my mother saying that kids like her required a lot more effort from parents to raise and that the normal life expectancy for children like her did not extend much longer than 30 years.
When you are a youngster you don't ponder much about getting to thirty. The awfulness of the fact was tempered then by the thought that there was still a long way to go to get there. A more earth shattering concept was delivered to me by my mother the day I turned thirty. "Just think Bob. In just 10 more years you will turn 40!" I think I was depressed for about a month after that little jolt of reality. I'm sure that despite all the extra work, if the parents of my third cousin had received that news they would have thrown a party.
We were not real close to that family and I cannot recall now what ever happened to her or even her name for that matter. I'm sure I would recognize it if mentioned but now since my mind draws a blank I will call her Sarah. She was the first "special needs" person I had known. We did not interact much if at all. I was a boy, she was a girl. I liked jumping into the waves or playing catch or digging and forming sand forts. Sarah stayed close to her mom. What I did pick up, even then, was that Sarah's parents loved her and would do anything for her and that she was family just like the rest of us.
Years later my older sister and husband had what would be their only child. At around the age of two it seemed that Kevin stopped developing mentally. The difficulty of his autism was compounded by physical problems in his legs as well as periodic epileptic episodes. Kevin was the same age as my youngest Becky and you would think, looking through the eyes of the world, that some things are just not fair. Here I was, nothing special but blessed with 5 healthy, bright and active children and there was my sister, fighting everyday for Kevin with officials and authorities so that he could get a break. We could look at our kids and wonder what great things were ahead of them. Carol and Ed would hug Kevin and hope for a good night.
Jackie, the kids and I loved seeing Kevin. He would learn these little sayings and then impress us with them when we got together. I think the best was one time when we were with my brother Jim. Now I have never been overly concerned with my looks. My hair does what it does, my six pack is now a case and I like to wear the same Levi jeans all week. On the other hand Jim has always liked to look good. Every hair on his mustache is trimmed perfectly, he wears stylish clothes and his personal trainer goes by the name of Swen. Kevin was about 16 and in a room full of people including me but he walks over and sticks a finger in Jim's belly and says, gaining steam with each word; "Looks like someone's had ONE TOO MANY HOT FUDGE SUNDAES!" It was just too perfect to forget.
One day Jackie and I came home and received a message on our answering machine that I also will never forget. It was choked out from my sister Carol. "Kevin's dead." Kevin who was then 21 was taking a bath, had an epileptic episode, and drowned. When we went to his funeral in Chicago we met some of his special needs friends, heard stories about what he and his best buddy liked to do, and found out a lot more about the activities he loved, such as archery. Kevin was a blessing. Ed said that there were times when it didn't seem such a blessing, as when Kevin got older (and heavier) and their tandem bike was heading uphill without Kevin's assist. But mostly a blessing.
During a break while I was working on this post Jackie and I went out to a Texas Steak House. Wouldn't you know it, in the booth across from us was a family with a special needs girl who looked about 18. Her moaning was occasionally quite loud but guess what, our steaks were still great. I just smiled. This is life, we are all on this journey together.
One last story. There is a Shell gas station on the North side of Holland on the busy corner of River Avenue and Ottawa Beech Road. During the summer months the station provides a back area for groups to raise money doing car washes. The usual set up is this. I drive by and see two cute girls standing on the corner dressed in bathing suits, sometimes bikinis, and they hold up a car wash sign. Some of these girls are real hawkers. They wave, they point at your car, they yell; "come on buddy, your car is dirty" and since it is I may stop. Often standing next to the two girls is one boy who does no work at all but is just there to chat up the girls. He is often wearing shades. Then when I drive by the area where the cars are being washed I see several kids spraying the hose at several other kids while the cars are being washed by the adults who are supervising their youth group.
One day as I approach I see two girls and a boy at the corner but something looks a little different. As I get closer I notice that these are special needs kids, thick bodies and all, dressed in modest bathing suits, waving their car wash signs. Driving past the washing area I see the rest of the special needs kids spraying the hoses at each other, their parents or supervisors doing the washing. Ha! Kids are kids, where ever, what ever.
We all have a destiny that goes far beyond the fleeting years given us. It calls Sarah, it calls Kevin, it calls the moaning girl from Texas Road House. They are the innocents. It calls us as well. One day I did turn 40 and then 50 and then 60. One day I will stop turning and some wag might inscribe on my grave stone; "Look's like someone's had ONE TOO MANY HOT FUDGE SUNDAES!'
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Chaos Theory
This week I was waiting for a customer while sitting in our white plastic chair which is stationed underneath a tree shaded area next to where we begin the parking lot portion of our driving tests. That chair has become my summer retreat during this very busy season. Sometimes I imagine that the road in the distance is actually an ocean, the asphalt leading to it a beach and the old beat up buildings in between forests of gently swaying palms. I rest, holding an imaginary lemonade, enjoy the cool shaded breeze and think deep thoughts. That is until a car roars by and a woman opens her window and tosses out an empty energy drink can and fast food wrapper upon my beach.
Things have changed in my little paradise this summer. The powers that be have started a road project at a main intersection near us and the traffic volume through our parking lot has increased four fold. None of these are what I would call "Happy Drivers". Most are in a hurry, upset they had to endure any delay and are using this supposed shortcut aggressively to try and make up time. It is high noon in Dodge City with every man and woman for themselves and everyone believing that they and only they have the right of way.
I would like to be able to describe the traffic patterns for you but I believe (after close observation and more deep, deep thought) that things are operating in a manner that can best be described at Chaos Theory.
In 1972 Edward Lorenz wrote a paper titled Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas?
This paper contained his definition of chaos. Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.
Let me try to set the scene for you. My ocean is 28th street where traffic is always very heavy. About 50 yards to my right is Clyde Park Avenue. Construction has brought traffic down to one lane each way at this intersection and no one is able to turn onto Clyde Park from 28th street. On the corner of this intersection is a gas station with some other shops, then to my left is Duthler's grocery, then a large parking lot area which will one day become a Goodwill store, then mall parking. There are several drives where traffic can enter from 28th street. There is a drive in front of the mall, a drive that runs along the side of the mall and a drive that goes past the back of the mall. The large parking area which is to the side of the mall and which is in front of us and in back of Duthler's is the wild west of driving.
The parking lot is filled with yellow parking lines that were put in solely for an event called Metro Cruise, a car show that occurs just once a year. There are double yellow lines and then open spaces that indicate where people are supposed to drive but few seem confined to those prescribed areas. Traffic heads to Clyde Park along an angle from the back of the mall, from the drive from the middle of the side, from the drive on an angle from just in front of the mall, from a sharp angle from the drive from 28th street in front of the mall and straight on from the side of Duthler's, these vehicles coming either direct from 28th street or from the drives in front of the mall. All of these seem to converge at the back side of Duthler's where they meet traffic heading the other way from Clyde Park. This traffic can see vehicles approaching from the back of the mall and from the middle but are blind to the other traffic until the last second, this blindness the same for the other direction as well.
In my rather limited observation time I have seen hundreds of hand gestures and screeching brakes. People get out of their cars and argue who is responsible for close calls (perhaps 40 mph through a parking lot is reasonable in some minds). People do not get out of their cars and get chased around the parking lot by the other car. Unwary pedestrians do these little escape dances. But I have not yet seen an actual collision.
Perhaps the Brazilian butterfly who designed this mess was some kind of genius. I have heard of towns in England that do not post speed signs, the theory being that people compensate for the lack of direction and actually go slower. Honey, this is not England. The blokes here take the lack of order as a Carte Blanch to go faster via the shortest available route. And yet, no collisions. Still, seeing that "the approximate present does not approximately determine the future" there might be fun times ahead. As long as no one gets hurt. As long as it's not me.
Things have changed in my little paradise this summer. The powers that be have started a road project at a main intersection near us and the traffic volume through our parking lot has increased four fold. None of these are what I would call "Happy Drivers". Most are in a hurry, upset they had to endure any delay and are using this supposed shortcut aggressively to try and make up time. It is high noon in Dodge City with every man and woman for themselves and everyone believing that they and only they have the right of way.
I would like to be able to describe the traffic patterns for you but I believe (after close observation and more deep, deep thought) that things are operating in a manner that can best be described at Chaos Theory.
In 1972 Edward Lorenz wrote a paper titled Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas?
This paper contained his definition of chaos. Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.
Let me try to set the scene for you. My ocean is 28th street where traffic is always very heavy. About 50 yards to my right is Clyde Park Avenue. Construction has brought traffic down to one lane each way at this intersection and no one is able to turn onto Clyde Park from 28th street. On the corner of this intersection is a gas station with some other shops, then to my left is Duthler's grocery, then a large parking lot area which will one day become a Goodwill store, then mall parking. There are several drives where traffic can enter from 28th street. There is a drive in front of the mall, a drive that runs along the side of the mall and a drive that goes past the back of the mall. The large parking area which is to the side of the mall and which is in front of us and in back of Duthler's is the wild west of driving.
The parking lot is filled with yellow parking lines that were put in solely for an event called Metro Cruise, a car show that occurs just once a year. There are double yellow lines and then open spaces that indicate where people are supposed to drive but few seem confined to those prescribed areas. Traffic heads to Clyde Park along an angle from the back of the mall, from the drive from the middle of the side, from the drive on an angle from just in front of the mall, from a sharp angle from the drive from 28th street in front of the mall and straight on from the side of Duthler's, these vehicles coming either direct from 28th street or from the drives in front of the mall. All of these seem to converge at the back side of Duthler's where they meet traffic heading the other way from Clyde Park. This traffic can see vehicles approaching from the back of the mall and from the middle but are blind to the other traffic until the last second, this blindness the same for the other direction as well.
In my rather limited observation time I have seen hundreds of hand gestures and screeching brakes. People get out of their cars and argue who is responsible for close calls (perhaps 40 mph through a parking lot is reasonable in some minds). People do not get out of their cars and get chased around the parking lot by the other car. Unwary pedestrians do these little escape dances. But I have not yet seen an actual collision.
Perhaps the Brazilian butterfly who designed this mess was some kind of genius. I have heard of towns in England that do not post speed signs, the theory being that people compensate for the lack of direction and actually go slower. Honey, this is not England. The blokes here take the lack of order as a Carte Blanch to go faster via the shortest available route. And yet, no collisions. Still, seeing that "the approximate present does not approximately determine the future" there might be fun times ahead. As long as no one gets hurt. As long as it's not me.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Congo Man
It was on a nice Saturday last month when a blue car pulls into our parking area and out of it pop three people who obviously are recently from somewhere in Africa. I approach, introduce myself, and ask if someone is scheduled for a driving test. This actually occurs quite often. What usually happens is that recent immigrants go to our test site to practice their parking, they see me and decide to play it cool by sitting there while telling me that they are just checking out the required parking maneuvers, then when I leave with a client they hustle and get their practice in.
I tell the leader of the group that my name is Bob and he introduces himself and gives me the English meaning of his African name. His first name is something like "One God has blessed" and his last name means something like "Rock of God". Then he tells me that he is a pastor. When I ask him if he has an appointment scheduled he says that he will do his test with me today. I respond that I'm pretty sure that he is not on my schedule - "You must go to our office over there to make an appointment" to which he responds; "Then I will make an appointment to take my test with you today!" After I tell him again that I am booked and that today is not possible he assures me that "everything is possible." "I believe that as well" I tell him "But you better start praying that someone cancels".
"One God has blessed" doesn't head to the office. He and the other two people stand outside their car to watch the other examiner conduct the parking test with a client. Since I am waiting for my next person I ask the pastor if he knows my friend. "What? he wonders. "Do you know my good friend?" I ask again. "Who would that be?" he answers, very puzzled. "My good friend Jesus!" I announce.
A big smile spreads across his face. "You are a brother! I will do my test with you today!" "Then you better get to the office and start praying" I tell him again. It turns out that today did not happen for the pastor but he scheduled for the next Saturday.
Two days before our first encounter I had this dream. I am sitting in the tailgate of a pickup truck, facing away from the truck and looking at a road that climbs up a hill. Next to me is Jesus who is ministering to a woman who is sick and laying in the bed of the pickup. At the top of the hill is a driveway which leads sharply right to a garage and in the garage is a woman who is in a coffin. I cannot actually see inside the garage but in my dream I knew this was so. Several women start walking from the driveway, down the hill toward us and several more women come out of the garage onto the driveway, looking at us. The women coming down the road call out to Jesus who turns His head quickly to look at them, once, twice and then a third time. He leaves me and the women in the pickup and starts walking up the hill toward the other women. After Jesus gets about 10 yards away I think I better hop off the tailgate and follow Him. Then I woke up.
Nothing clear came to me as to the meaning of the dream. I thought maybe there were references in it to the story in the Bible where Jesus hears about the death of his good friend Lazarus, waits a couple days, then goes to where he is buried and raises him from the dead, but that does not seem to apply to anything personal for me. I pray and ask God to show me if there is anyone that I test that He wants me to share this with.
The Saturday comes when I do indeed have a test scheduled with "One God has blessed." As we are driving along I find out that he is a missionary who has come from the Congo to the U.S. This privately amuses me. If I was asked where was the deepest and the darkest part of Africa I probably would respond that it would be the Congo. Yet today we have missionaries coming from there to our enlightened country. How ironic.
I ask him if he believes in the gifts of the Holy Spirit. "Well yes, of course!" he answers. The pastor is connected with a Pentecostal denomination that is based in California and he will be going there later in the year for missionary training. At this point I remember my dream but am hesitant to share it. I think I should but I don't want to try to appear "spiritual" to him just because I had a dream with Jesus in it. My worry is that it would be wrong to use the dream to gain "brownie points" with someone because he is a pastor.
But then I recall a story told earlier this year by my own pastor Dave. One time when he was an inexperienced youth pastor the senior pastor at his church was going through a very difficult period in his life. A scripture verse came to Dave that seemed to apply to the situation but he was not bold enough to share it. A week later Dave gets a phone call from his father who is also a pastor. "Dave, God gave me this verse and told me it was for your senior pastor." This was the exact same verse but still Dave did not follow his original prompting or the request of his father. Two weeks later Dave has a scheduled meeting with the senior pastor and Dave asks how things are going. The pastor tells Dave that the last month has been hell, but last night he was reading the Bible and a verse caught his attention. It assured him that God understands everything he has been going through and that He has been with him all along. "I am so relieved. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I am so much better today." The verse was of course the same one that Dave and his father had, a verse that could have brought relief weeks earlier.
When we get finished with the test and the paperwork I share the dream with the African pastor. I tell him that I am usually quite good with interpretations but that nothing had occurred to me until the last leg of our route (this was just after I decided that I would tell him the dream). In the Bible Jesus tells us that He does what He sees the Father doing (John 5:19). The message of this dream is that we should do what we see Jesus doing.
The dear pastor from the Congo grabs his steering wheel and in his broken English tells me that after we first met his wife told him that "that man has something to tell you."
Do I know what help the sharing of my dream will be for the Congo man? No. I suspect that the cost and everything else involved to go to California for missionary training may seem overwhelming at this point. Just because we believe that "everything is possible" does not make it a breeze to take the next step, even for a man of faith. But if our heart is right God finds ways to encourage us. And I too am encouraged.
I tell the leader of the group that my name is Bob and he introduces himself and gives me the English meaning of his African name. His first name is something like "One God has blessed" and his last name means something like "Rock of God". Then he tells me that he is a pastor. When I ask him if he has an appointment scheduled he says that he will do his test with me today. I respond that I'm pretty sure that he is not on my schedule - "You must go to our office over there to make an appointment" to which he responds; "Then I will make an appointment to take my test with you today!" After I tell him again that I am booked and that today is not possible he assures me that "everything is possible." "I believe that as well" I tell him "But you better start praying that someone cancels".
"One God has blessed" doesn't head to the office. He and the other two people stand outside their car to watch the other examiner conduct the parking test with a client. Since I am waiting for my next person I ask the pastor if he knows my friend. "What? he wonders. "Do you know my good friend?" I ask again. "Who would that be?" he answers, very puzzled. "My good friend Jesus!" I announce.
A big smile spreads across his face. "You are a brother! I will do my test with you today!" "Then you better get to the office and start praying" I tell him again. It turns out that today did not happen for the pastor but he scheduled for the next Saturday.
Two days before our first encounter I had this dream. I am sitting in the tailgate of a pickup truck, facing away from the truck and looking at a road that climbs up a hill. Next to me is Jesus who is ministering to a woman who is sick and laying in the bed of the pickup. At the top of the hill is a driveway which leads sharply right to a garage and in the garage is a woman who is in a coffin. I cannot actually see inside the garage but in my dream I knew this was so. Several women start walking from the driveway, down the hill toward us and several more women come out of the garage onto the driveway, looking at us. The women coming down the road call out to Jesus who turns His head quickly to look at them, once, twice and then a third time. He leaves me and the women in the pickup and starts walking up the hill toward the other women. After Jesus gets about 10 yards away I think I better hop off the tailgate and follow Him. Then I woke up.
Nothing clear came to me as to the meaning of the dream. I thought maybe there were references in it to the story in the Bible where Jesus hears about the death of his good friend Lazarus, waits a couple days, then goes to where he is buried and raises him from the dead, but that does not seem to apply to anything personal for me. I pray and ask God to show me if there is anyone that I test that He wants me to share this with.
The Saturday comes when I do indeed have a test scheduled with "One God has blessed." As we are driving along I find out that he is a missionary who has come from the Congo to the U.S. This privately amuses me. If I was asked where was the deepest and the darkest part of Africa I probably would respond that it would be the Congo. Yet today we have missionaries coming from there to our enlightened country. How ironic.
I ask him if he believes in the gifts of the Holy Spirit. "Well yes, of course!" he answers. The pastor is connected with a Pentecostal denomination that is based in California and he will be going there later in the year for missionary training. At this point I remember my dream but am hesitant to share it. I think I should but I don't want to try to appear "spiritual" to him just because I had a dream with Jesus in it. My worry is that it would be wrong to use the dream to gain "brownie points" with someone because he is a pastor.
But then I recall a story told earlier this year by my own pastor Dave. One time when he was an inexperienced youth pastor the senior pastor at his church was going through a very difficult period in his life. A scripture verse came to Dave that seemed to apply to the situation but he was not bold enough to share it. A week later Dave gets a phone call from his father who is also a pastor. "Dave, God gave me this verse and told me it was for your senior pastor." This was the exact same verse but still Dave did not follow his original prompting or the request of his father. Two weeks later Dave has a scheduled meeting with the senior pastor and Dave asks how things are going. The pastor tells Dave that the last month has been hell, but last night he was reading the Bible and a verse caught his attention. It assured him that God understands everything he has been going through and that He has been with him all along. "I am so relieved. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I am so much better today." The verse was of course the same one that Dave and his father had, a verse that could have brought relief weeks earlier.
When we get finished with the test and the paperwork I share the dream with the African pastor. I tell him that I am usually quite good with interpretations but that nothing had occurred to me until the last leg of our route (this was just after I decided that I would tell him the dream). In the Bible Jesus tells us that He does what He sees the Father doing (John 5:19). The message of this dream is that we should do what we see Jesus doing.
The dear pastor from the Congo grabs his steering wheel and in his broken English tells me that after we first met his wife told him that "that man has something to tell you."
Do I know what help the sharing of my dream will be for the Congo man? No. I suspect that the cost and everything else involved to go to California for missionary training may seem overwhelming at this point. Just because we believe that "everything is possible" does not make it a breeze to take the next step, even for a man of faith. But if our heart is right God finds ways to encourage us. And I too am encouraged.
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