You are Always So Good!

For weeks I've been resolved and NOW standing here bent over these pickles, yards from the back door of HIS house, feet caked in mud, ankles, hands, and forearms itching, back aching, green slime tatooed up to my wrists, loathing the day I met him and you whisper "How can you love him?". Well I'll tell you what the hell it isn't! It isn't butchering his half of the chickens! It isn't feeding that son of a *%&%)#@ one single calorie! It isn't going out of my way to not be offensive to him even though I know he is being cold as ice to five and six year old kids and my wife who never did or said anything to remotely offend him. It isn't not kicking his sorry ass for all the work we've done together and then having him trip out and dump it all like it just doesn't exist anymore? What? It is? Its all that? Its all that and more? For what? What do I get out of it?

A cross? I get a friggin cross? Oh yeah, and those sunsets. Mmm Hmmm, there have been some lovely ones. I get a pulse? One more day to wake up to my beautiful wife? Okay, deal. I'm in. I'll clean the friggin chickens, all of them, and I know you, you'll probably bring me to tears while I do it and somehow, through the gore and the mess, you'll show me something beautiful and profound and I'll go about crying your name and dancing like a child in a sprinkler or some other totally uncool thing with chicken guts all over me. Somehow I'm really glad to have met him...and you.

R-E-D-E-M-P-T-I-O-N

Happy Anniversary to the Nation of Sam

11 years and it seems like about half that. Today was our anniversary! I woke up to prickled flesh snuggling away from the 50 degree Michigan morning pouring through our open window. Lazily I reached behind me and felt every reachable inch of my beloved wife before a child's size 10 1/2 foot wiggled away from my touch. Ahhh another spooky dream of Calvin's. He's going through a stage but he's such an accomplished snuggler there is no way you can turn him away or lead him back to his own bed when he stands next to the bed and describes his biggest fear of the moment, in vivid technicolor, surroundsound, and special effects like sword sshwooshes and things dropping to the ground, saliva dripping, and thumps of feet outside his window.

Before the clock on my nightstand registers another ten minutes we are joined by two more imps, Coleman, who chews Calvin out for leaving him alone in bed and forces himself between me and my beloved, and Elizabeth who just has to be on Daddy's side, settles for what is left of the bed and ends up with no covers. I knew we weren't getting anymore sleep so I grabbed my mp3 player on the nightstand and played some of my wife's favorites as we lazily wrestled with the little ones and sent them to check on this or that while we resumed our snuggle. I'm thinking it doesn't get better than this until later in the day we picked our first 5 rows of sweet corn. Three and a half bushel! I picked up a fillet of wild-caught Alaskan Salmon ($7.32), a box of Leslie's favorite Taquitos($5.89), Leslie made some fresh salsa verde from the peppers, tomatillos, and herbs we picked out of our garden and along with just a big kettle full of sweet corn and we ate our fill. Sydney gave us the scrapbook she made with the three little ones and how rich, just how friggin rich does a man have to be? Maybe its the double shot of B-complex from the brewers yeast at the bottom of the beer I just drank or maybe its the omega-3 from that Salmon but it sure looks alot like heaven in the Clark household tonight. Now I just heard my beloved get out of the shower so I'm signing off. Sorry for the details but someday I pray my kids can read this and actually know that with a little passion and much joy - the Kingdom of God will come crashing into our midst.

You know what is ironic after I reread this post? I took John, a homeless guy that visits us one weekend a month, back to the shelter tonight and he chewed me out for not doing something more with my wife on our anniversary! He was married 2 1/2 yrs. of his whole 50 years and he was giving me advice! I'd really like to write a book about his life sometime. I might

Every Knee Will Bow, Every Tongue Confess

I long thought that the words above were the assurance of Christ's victory over a sinful world and yes the evil will get what's coming to them! Drinking from the spring of Grace and the fount of Mercy changes these words for me. The "other" doesn't seem so "other", my enemies remind me of myself, beauty found in wrinkles and age spots, richness found in a hobo's cabin - barest of necessities allowing him a freedom I could only dream of.....The Kingdom of God not looking terribly different than what pours out of the soul of a young woman committing her life to loving others in cockroach-infested, dangerous places. Every knee WILL bow, and Every toungue WILL confess but not under the gleaming sword of the oppressor of the world but in the wide open arms of the light of simple peace, simple love, simple words, and an equilibrium restored.

Bounty

Here is a photo of our thriving garden. This is a year of plenty for those with dirt under their fingernails and in their shoes. The weather has been perfect for gardening and farming. We have teamed up with the Havens' on their 2 acres to grow all of our beans, tomatoes, pumpkins, peppers, greens, pickling pickles, sweet corn, and also fresh lettuce, carrots, peas, squash, etc. We've named it "Fresh Haven Farm" but its really just a big garden (1/2 acre). We're also raising a dozen Rhode Island Reds for eggs and a couple dozen Cornish Rocks for broilers.
The garden is an interesting way to get to know someone. We haven't known the Havens for very long and many people believe that we took on alot of risk by spending so much on seed and plants and chicken house material and chickens that is on someone else's land. You know, I don't look at it at all that way. The way I see it is by doing this together our kids get the opportunity to see a couple families come together in difficult economic times to create some synergy. If it doesn't work out it won't be a lesson in keeping your guard up, it will be a lesson in how to live life as if we are already within the Kingdom of God and if it turns out that life is not a fairy tale with a happy ending we at least feasted on the joy that we've had thus far in this endeavor. Our kids play well all day and well into the dark, catching lazy fireflies while we relax around a crackling bonfire (Mike is the bonfire king and takes the size, color, warmth, and ambiance of his bonfire very seriously). Many times the kids will crowd onto a blanket next to the fire and fall asleep while we talk late into the night. The harvest began when we broke ground for the garden and I pray it continues deep into the winter when we twist off brass rings and open sealed wide-mouth masons of spicy salsa, hearty vegetables, sweet bread and butter pickles, and sweat-beeding hot pickled peppers. These will be the jewels of our larder but the real treasure will never be contained in a jar or sealed in a freezer bag. The real treasure will be written on our hearts and in our memories for eternity.

shalom, grow something

An Excersize in Missing the Point

I went to a funeral today. Yes, it was sad, of course it was sad. The saddest part was when the focus went off what this child of God had spent her entire illness, 17 years, trying to teach people, that it is not about the struggle, its about the triumph. She died. She died with less limbs(both legs, an arm, and some fingers were taken), sores over much of her body(never healing but compounding and remaining open and inflamed), and skin that looked as if she'd been in a tanning bed set to "scorched earth" but her focus was never on the fact she was dieing, that was obvious, her focus - that dear, dear saint, was that she was A.L.I.V.E., alive and kicking, fully alive, alive and she is STILL A.L.I.V.E. So, pastor whatever-your-name-is, how can you add to that prayer, to that gospel? You think telling people that "Good people don't go to heaven" is going to cut it? Relax and live in the moment, smell the flowers, look at the pictures of her life and remember that message that she lived, the gospel, the true gospel, meted out in the life of one who L.I.V.E.D. and had such grace that words... well, if I had a picture, you'd get it.

Scoota Commuta

For about a month now I've been riding a little Chinese 49 cc moped to work. It is 28.5 miles one way and it takes me about 47 minutes to drive in to work and anywhere from 53 minutes to an hour and five minutes (prevailing wind in my face) to get home. It used to take me about 35 minutes each way. I really enjoy that little moped. I wanted to get a motorcycle but as many fathers will understand, my wife was against it. She caved in when I suggested the moped because it is much slower (=traffic has to rush around you frantically on hills and curves) and therefore must be safer to operate. I settled for the moped, hoping that cashing in the "cool" factor of riding an actual motorcycle would be repaid in increased fuel economy (as if I could ever grab that elusive "cool factor" with anything I do), and expected to see an added benefit of getting 70-80 miles to the gallon of gasoline. I am really out of my mind happy about getting a whopping 103 mpg with the throttle wide open all the way! Take that Global Carbon Footprint! I can fill up with 89 octane for about $5.00 and some change.



There is nothing very romantic in the little machine itself. It sounds as if it is being held back all the time and wants to really whine. I smell a little like a lawnmower when I get to my destination and have really cool 80's fly-backs to go with the rest of the "dry look" hair. It isn't very comfortable to ride and the broken tailbone I have from the stupid cliff-jumping keeps me from ever relaxing. I get a knot in my shoulder from holding the throttle wide open for almost an hour. However, riding the moped allows me a little freedom that I otherwise don't feel. I tend to get a little caged-up feeling when I have to ride in an automobile now. I don't get the full effect of the new-mown hay, walls of lucious cattails, blossoming maples, ash, and willow, and the whole plethora of smells that pours out from a dairy farm - molasses, grain, silage, heady manure, and just a hint of the smell from a wet nose of a newborn calf. I also miss out on the effect the little machine has on the fauna along the road. Cows come running to the roadside fence as they hear me approach, deer spook but have to turn around and stop with curious ears spread wide, and both ring-necked pheasants and wild turkey alike run along side as I pass by not knowing whether they should take wing or hunker low until they just stand there looking at me as I continue down the edge of the road inches from the white line.

The weather adds adventure to the mix. I've only gotten wet twice and am pretty adept at checking the weather and taking off at just the right time to miss the showers. You are really much closer to weather on a moped. You are immersed in the air ionized by lightning, you feel the sting of the rain on your face, the sun shines warm on your body even if the air is cool, the wind slows you noticeably or gives you speed like you've never before had when its at your back. When you get wet on a moped, you are wet everywhere but the backs of your legs. It is cold in the morning and cool in the afternoon. I can't picture myself in riding leathers or a full face helmet so I would imagine that I'll have to come up with some humiliating-yet-warm getup this fall to lengthen my moped season.

The little bike responds to the weather also. It runs fast and smooth in the cool air, a little sluggish and soft when its very warm, sputters in the rain, and struggles against the wind. It seems to have a personality all its own, much like the junker cars I used to drive. I guess all in all this little bike helps me find that child-like joy that I sometimes lose track of. I get laughed at and laugh right back with a wave. I get the 'finger' and well, sometimes, have used it as well when someone speeds by dangerously close (not saying its right, just saying its me and I'm not always right). I hunker down behind the fairing in the front to cut down wind resistance to see how fast I can get to work. On a relaxing ride I can stop quick and just enjoy the sunrise, the sunset, a singing Redwinged Blackbird or watch a Bald Eagle sitting in a dead limb high over the Maple River. There is much that has come with the cheap little machine and I'm much the richer for it in many ways. So as I sit here and listen to the bubbles come off a fresh batch of homebrew beer and hammer out this entry for some day later when I have forgotten who I am, I'm thankful for the little bike, a good life, and a cool evening to take a ride around town.

Shalom

Montcalm Teen Center

My eyes are dry and my heart is broken. I am crying out to humanity in this little village, no burg, that I have been placed in. There are five freaking churches and two or three benevolent societies here! I can't get a volunteer to give 3 hours every two months to just show up and be there for a small group of teens to let them know that there is someone in town that feels they have value. I've been opening it myself without the second volunteer simply because I'm not going to turn away kids at the door. Where are the hearts for these kids? Single parent homes, foster homes...thats where these kids come from and for the love of God, great God almighty, they need to know that our community loves them and supports them and wants them to seek to be a force for good and redemption and love in this community and all I get are excuses! EXCUSES! How many dates do you have to take with your wife? How tired are you really after that rummage sale you had? Why did you ever sign up? Why do you sit on the board when you can't spend even one hour at the teen center? You are retired! You are empty nesters! Your kid is THERE!



Most of the time I give people the benefit of the doubt, you've got a judge and you don't need me to replicate that but I am CRYING OUT TO THE PEOPLE OF CARSON CITY MICHIGAN TO TELL THEM IF YOU DON'T LOVE THESE KIDS THEY ARE GOING TO BE THE ONE THAT STEALS YOUR CAR OR INVADES YOUR HOME OR DRIVES DRUNK THROUGH YOUR YARD AND INTO YOUR CHILD'S BEDROOM! YES, THEY ARE THE ONES THAT OUR SOCIETY WARNS US ABOUT!

With that said, I can't figure it out. I really enjoy being with these kids and it grows me and helps me be a better human being. Why the heck are not people knocking down the door to be volunteers?