Good Husbands are like Cedar Trees

They can be big, tall, and strong, forming a protective canopy over all the other growing things in their domain:

 Also, they can look quite handsome when placed in the proper landscape:

And, when put into a box (or container) not to their liking, they can stagnate for years until planted in a place where they can grow without restriction.  Believe it.   Just take a look at this guy who three years ago was stuck in a container at a perpetual two feet of height until planted in a more pleasing patch of terrestrial freedom:

When planted in the proper setting, the cedars can grow up to a meter a year, reaching upward for sunshine and transforming light into both height and strength.   As they mature, they will also produce their own insecticide to keep all the pests away that might otherwise trouble other smaller members of the family forest.

All these qualities, the cedar tree shares with a good husband.

One last thing.  During certain seasons of life (like spring), the cedars will also make you itch, sneeze, and scratch as intensely as any allergen on the planet.  During these times, they can be endlessly annoying, despite all their boughs full of fabulous qualities.

Failure to Capitalize

I am a somewhat crazy, irrational University of Washington Huskies football fan:

To persist in this endeavor even when the Huskies do their annual routine of winning a few exciting games, infusing hope and excitement in fans, players, and coaches alike, only to execute a variation of "crash and burn" during mid-season.... is for some, the definition of masochism.   But, I like purple, I love Jake Locker, Keith Price, and now Cyler Miles if he can manage to avoid starting fights for stupid reasons over the next six months.  So, the emotional roller coaster ventures ever onward, in a somewhat warped love of college football that I hold close to my heart.

One particularly heartbreaking version of the "crash and burn" scheme involves a continuing failure to capitalize on scoring opportunities, an offense made popular by the Huskies' offense.   Failure to capitalize marks the valley of the emotional roller coaster that college football can be, unless you happen to follow a chronically winning team like the University of Alabama.  And, what fun is that when your team wins all the time?

The Huskies may make an unbelievable interception, only to fall a few yards short of the end zone at the end of fourth down.  Or they may craft a long, arduous march down the football field, consuming long minutes of game time, only to throw an interception just short of the red zone.  Or the quarterback may make several masterful plays, one after another, only to.... Ooops, drop the football and turn it over yet again.  The variations on the "Failure to Capitalize" theme are seemingly endless, and more often than not, lead to deeply disappointing loss.

Repeated failures to capitalize that lead to repeated painful losses are far more heartbreaking for the Husky players than for me, but still I cringe and flail while watching this process repeat over and over again.  Stupidly (or loyally, take your pick) entering into this cycle of heartbreak every fall during football season, I often think of my own failures to capitalize in life and the regrets I carry for not playing the game right at the right time. I could dwell on those thoughts and orchestrate a nice little depression for myself, but most of the time my thoughts wander over to the one who never fails to capitalize.

He does not fail to capitalize on a single ounce of our suffering, our struggle, or drive to serve Him.   Every tear is turned to success, sometimes where we can see and often where we cannot.  Every moment of despair is turned to a pinnacle of joy... somewhere, somehow.  Every frustration, every anger, every injustice, every last bit of suffering experienced by His children is turned for good, against all odds and all simple forms of logic.   Nothing is forgotten.  Nothing is thrown away.   All is capitalized into hope for the hopeless, rest for the weary, and renewal for the brokenhearted:

It's GOD

... and that is even cooler than college football!

Confirmation

Almost five years ago, in the summer of 2009, I stopped shopping for a new house.   I had a lovely home in the suburbs of Seattle, but I had longed all of my adult life to be out in the country where the noise and the chaos of the city couldn't quite reach me.  After searching high and low, east and west, north and south for a house that would fit the bill, I made an offer on a 2 acre parcel in a location reasonably remote from Seattle.  In a down market, I assumed that I would be dealing with a motivated seller.  Motivated he was, but only at his asking price, on his terms.   So, after a month of offering and no counter-offering followed by searching all around for another comparable house, I did the reasonable thing and gave up.   Housing market crash or not, I seemed stuck in the suburbs.  Groan.

In retrospect, I can now see that God must have been laughing at my plans and my impulsive decision to give up on the search.  Indeed, He certainly had other ideas for where I should live.  Whidbey Island, Washington was top on His list, but not even on my radar screen.   Toward the end of the summer, He was finally able to reach through my rather dense head and stubborn heart and that is how we ended up on Frogwater Road on Whidbey:

A year later, my mother passed away, and I found myself the not-so-proud owner of three houses... yet the surprised recipient of the RainBird Package that would bring us out of the gray, rainy season in Western Washington to Florida where the sun made nearly a daily appearance during the winter.  And so started the annual migration to Clearwater from Frogwater during the winter months.   This year, as we arrived back at Frogwater, I had my doubts as to whether I still wanted to live in Washington.  Five days after our return, after a particularly bad set of days at work, in traffic, and under stress, I actually said to Barry:   "I want to go back to Clearwater; can we please sell the house and leave?"  A day later, after another busy day at work in Seattle, we rolled off the ferry and onto the road home.  At that moment, God decided to remind us of His wishes, when He unrolled this unbelievable panorama:

Yes, well, so much for the idea of moving to Clearwater year round.   This little show of beauty reminded me that when God reveals His plans for us.... He doesn't hesitate to remind us of those plans over and over again when we stumble, groan, and fumble with their implementation.

Thank God for that!

p.s. I'm still looking for the pot of gold in our woods!