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!

The Frozen North

Frequently, while in the South, we come across folks who believe (logically) that since Washington State is so far north, it must surely be colder than places like Ohio, Illinois, Pennsylvania and the like, come winter and early spring.   Others hear of the endless rain that falls upon Seattle and think that we spend our days hunkered down indoors or wrapped tightly in waterproof wear of all shapes and colors. Many days, this is true (the wet part, not the frozen part).  

This year, we travelled through our share of frozen cold land as we headed back to Frogwater from Clearwater.   Unusually cold temperatures were entirely expected with the exceptionally harsh and extended winter that descended on the midwest, southeast, and many of the western states this season. We didn't make any bets on much improved weather as we headed further and further west.

True to our expectations, as we entered Idaho, it started to rain.  As we donned our rain gear, we just resigned ourselves to an extension of the wettest March on record that had just passed in the Pacific Northwest.  We arrived home to a mix of gray, fog, wet, and soggy.... as expected. Much to our surprise though, 48 hours after we returned, during a break from all the work that landed on our plates as we entered Washington, the sunshine came blazing out of hiding and made our whole world brighter:

That's pretty good for both the Frozen North and the Pacific NorthWET... I can't complain.  Of course, this stunning weather is transient, but I still shouldn't complain! 

Not complaining is the right idea.  It's the implementation that can get a wee bit tricky.

Diversifying

And the story goes like this ...

Once upon a time, there lived a crazy couple who thought it was feasible to haul three cats and three dogs (who did not get along with each other) from one end of the country to another in a minivan.   One of the dogs shall be called Lucky for short and one of the cats shall be called Faith.   The dog called Lucky has an obsession with cats.  He thinks about them day and night, dreaming and hoping against hope to catch one today or at the latest tomorrow.  He has no idea what to do with one if he catches it, but that's another problem for another time.

The crazy couple decided to leave the dog called Lucky:

 Alone with the cat called Faith:

while they packed up the minivan for another 600 mile trek from Point A to Point B.   Believing this to be his Magic Moment to catch a cat, Lucky set about the challenge of trying to figure out how to get into the hard plastic pet carrier in which Faith contentedly resided.  Faith believed that she was safe from Crazy Lucky, either because because of the strong plastic surrounding her, or because her name was, after all, Faith.  

Alas, when the crazy couple returned from their brief hiatus from these two furry friends, an equally brief tragedy had occurred.   While unable to open the carrier, Crazy Lucky did successfully roll it 180 degrees:

Whether Faith acquired a concussion or not, the crazy couple will never know.  Upon checking her from paw to paw, the couple only observed that she was appalled that something as icky and inferior as a dog had done this horrid thing to her.

But, unbeknownst to Crazy Lucky, the family had just diversified.   Prior, it was simply a non-denominational Christian family.   Now, on this fateful day, it had acquired a Holy Roller... how exciting is that?

 

What is it?

Your turn to participate! Prizes may be available depending on the accuracy and entertainment value of the responses.

#1.  What is it?  (Hint:  It often follows me everywhere)

Answer:  It's Kickstand (the cat)'s tail!

#2.  What is it?  (Hint:  It's in South Dakota)

Answer:  It's a big rock with Iron Pyrite (Fool's Gold) in it!

 #3.  What is it?  (Hint:   It could be a freeway under the right conditions)

Answer:  It's a frozen lake in South Dakota (very thick ice)!

#4.  What is it?  (Hint:   It won't last through the spring!)

Answer:  Bubbles frozen into what was once an ice fishing hole!

#5.  What is it?  (Hint:   you don't need a hint)

Answer:  It's Ella's Eyeball!

Four Cool Dudes and a Rock

Actually, it's five cool dudes if you count Gutzon Borglum who carved the four cool dudes into this little rock in South Dakota called Mount Rushmore:

Gutzon took some time to carve these sixty foot sculptures out of granite on the side of Mount Rushmore, 14 years from 1927 to 1941.  The only reason the effort stopped at what we see today (and did not include head to waist for each of the four presidents) was that age-old American reason for stopping in the middle of something:   lack of funding.

While on the topic of Americanism, Mount Rushmore is a fabulous example of our never-ending ability to charge something for everything.   However, we successfully ducked the $11 parking fee and additional entry fee by parking by the side of the road, betting that no one would tow a minivan with six animals inside. After hiking onto a little hill, we found our sought after photo-op in old-fashioned American style:  free of charge.  Mission accomplished.

The little town of Keystone, down the road from Mount Rushmore, supports every type of tourist trap known to mankind, but it is rather cute, especially in the winter time when most every tourist trap is closed:

Fortunately for us, the espresso stand and candy shop were very open and willing to satisfy our needs for a well made latte:

Of the four dudes carved into Mount Rushmore (George, Thomas, Teddy, and Abe), we enjoy George's sculpture the best.   That may be in part because George is complete, while the other dudes are only rocky granite heads.  Or it may be that George was just a talented leader and after winning a wee little conflict with Great Britain, was a fabulous model of what politics and presidential leadership in this country should look like.

Now, all we need to do is find and elect the next George Washington.