fourfeetsixinches

the last few days have been marked by rapidly changing weather in north iowa. this evening’s sunset shows remnants of such. sunshine tomorrow…

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was a gray and misty day in western nebraska. the bluffs on the edge of the city an uninviting mix of sandy gray and dull green. one definition of “bluff” in verb form is “to deter or frighten with a mere show of strength.” it seemed as though the high, steep banks were doing such to me on that day. not frightening, but deterring. saying stay away. don’t bother making your way up the narrow winding path to the top.

yet we wove our way around the bluff’s turns, through it’s tunnels and made our way to the top. the closer we got, the bluffs began to show signs of character that were not visible from the more distant vantage point. wild flowers growing from cracks in the sandstone. colonies of moss-like plants draping themselves over edges of stone and rubble. the terrain was windswept and rugged, yet signs of fragile and beautiful life not only existed, but seemed to thrive here. it made me glad i had made the effort to come. maybe i get a little nerdy about finding metaphors here and there. but i think it is just incredible that plants grow out of rocks and that flowers bloom in surroundings of stone and sand. and that sometimes harsh conditions produce such a rare and unique display of beauty. it can be totally unexpected. especially when all we allow ourselves is a distant glance. sometimes the best of life needs a closer look to be found. is not always just right out there to be seen without some intentionality on our part.

sometimes i am tempted to settle. to look on from a distance. if there is some kind of bluff going on, i buy into it. i don’t approach. sometimes i choose to let others see things about me only from a distance. to protect myself. to bluff in a deterring way. but as you zoom in closer there is detail. both in seeing and in being seen. there is a less-obvious and more-desirable stuff going on at the same time. if we dare to approach.

this less-obvious, more-desirable stuff is there between us as human beings. it is also there between us and our Maker. if we dare to approach. to draw near. to disregard whatever kind of bluff seems to be going on. whatever it is that may seem to deter us. psalm 34:8 invites us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.”   approach. draw near. take a closer look. consider the less-obvious yet more-desirable view…

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i was trying to catch the flash of the starter’s pistol, so i took over a hundred pictures of this guy’s hand on the night of the track meet.  this is the closest i came to capturing the moment it was fired. middle school track meets can get long, so in between events, i kept busy on this particular night with my camera…back in my 20’s. in my days as a walking man, when i had these two awesome mentors named Paul & Margaret Pauley, they encouraged a little group of us to memorize sections of the Bible. i followed their encouragement. some of it found its way deep inside of me. so for years there has been a section of scripture in 1 corinthians that has spurred me on somehow. inspired me to keep going when it otherwise may have felt easier to give up. to stop. to quit trying. infused a sense of purpose into an what at times seemed like meaningless life events.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such as way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I buffet my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”   1 Corinthians 9: 24-27

run well this week, friends. do not run aimlessly. run in such a way as to get the prize. bless you.

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driving home from work last night. was a little before nine as i had appointments into the evening. driving somewhat mindlessly. spacing off and not really wanting to think anymore. not wanting to feel anymore. a long day with a lot going on. it started out that as i was leaving for work i backed into jon’s friend’s car sitting behind my jeep in the driveway. not a good start to the week, and not a good reaction from inside of me. not easy to stay focused and have a decent attitude for the rest of the day. but not just because of the smashed bumpers and insurance and deductibles and out of pocket expenses. something more has been brewing for a while. busyness and ‘the tyranny of the urgent’ sort of stuff going on. one of my readers sent me a facebook message asking if i was ok. i was silent. not blogging. hmmm… a reminder that possibly, just possibly i need to pay attention to the condition of my life. my heart. i need to listen not only to the rhythms of my schedule and my heart and mind, but also to what is going on around me. i told a friend this morning that it feels like i’ve merely been skimming the surface of things for a while now. not having the time or energy. rather, not taking the time nor the energy to go deeper.

this sunset was like a huge canvas being painted right in front of me as i drove west toward home last night. the Creator making brushstrokes that first caught my eye, and then found their way into my heart. why do you get so caught up in detail and schedule and forget that I’m right here? present in every moment? listen. see. take it in. be amazed by the grace that life is. be amazed that the Giver of such grace woes us if we would take note and listen. as Frederick Buechner says, “There is no event so commonplace but that God is present within it…always leaving you room to recognize him or not to recognize him…”

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”       -Buechner

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i drove to okoboji this past weekend to be part of a men’s retreat on having a heart for God. looking at the life of David. old stories that i’ve heard many times. facing our giants. the seduction of the heart. a man after God’s own heart. my friend Lee took these old stories on with some fresh insights and it was moving to me. and then there were personal stories from others about where we live and breathe right now. how we deal with issues of fear and courage and passion and other workings of our hearts.

i think of human behavior. the psychology of learning. and often times for us human types, with repetition comes numbness. “neurons respond to novelty, and what ceases to be novel ceases to cause neurons to fire.” we hear something new and fresh and it finds it’s way inside us. more easily. more deeply perhaps than something we’ve heard before. especially something we’ve heard numerous times. new presentation sometimes has the ability to get past our defenses.  like when i’m trying to talk with our kids about some topic or situation and they say, “i know, dad. i know.” once we’ve heard something and think we know it, we shut a part of ourselves off to it. from it. “i know.”“Genuine ignorance is profitable, because it is likely to be accompanied by humility, curiosity, and open mindedness; whereas ability to repeat catch-phrases, cant terms, familiar propositions, gives the conceit of learning and coats the mind with varnish, waterproof to new ideas.”        John Dewey

those words: humility. curiosity. open mindedness. those are traits i want to have in my life. if my experience. my learning causes conceit inside of me. causes a coat or two of varnish on the outside of me. makes me waterproof to some degree. then perhaps the ravages of the environs around me need to rain and blow. the sun to scorch. and freeze and thaw in such a way that the varnish, the paint cracks and peels enough that new and fresh can be let inside. that humility can allow me to be teachable. the curiosity can allow me to see some new possibilities. that open-mindedness can allow me to see some new facet of the glory of God. rather than to make the smug assumption that i know it all. “i know, dad. i know.”

i stopped and snapped some photos on the way home from okoboji. in the driving wind and rain. a couple of run down churches along the way. this window caught my eye. with its layers of paint and peeling and chipped putty holding the glass in its place. the protection of layers of paint, some of which pulls off with the ravages of north iowa weather changes. the stuff that i let in makes a substantial difference on the quality of what i give back out. varnish. paint. layers. these affect the flow in both directions. what gets in? what gets through? what finds its way back out? if i let things affect me only on the surface. only on a shallow level. what i have to give back is likely only surface and shallow.

humility, curiosity, open mindedness  versus  conceit, varnish, waterproof.

could i recommend a book?  refreshing. challenging. inspiring. Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson  www.chasethegoose.com

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when I am in a crowd of people. especially waiting in a line. there is something that happens that I find more than a little unpleasant. I went for years, hanging out in wheelchair position, without saying much about this. but, at 54 inches tall…or four feet six inches, i make eye contact with a lot of people’s posteriors. and sometimes people have this tendency to relax in certain ways that emit an odiferous offering. and my nostrils seem to be positioned to take the brunt of it. it’s just how it is in a wheelchair. am just being candid.

from this sitting position, i see people. i see most of life from this position. it is my vantage point. my perspective. and even if the difference in perspective does not seem huge, it is still a difference. sometimes, more than others, i think the difference in perspective is pretty significant. a lot more significant than my optical field being heavily populated with the gluteus clan.

i was asked to speak at a men’s retreat coming up this weekend. to tell a bit of my story of faith and life. suffering as well. and i follow a session about King David called “Facing Your Giants.” since being repositioned at four feet six some years ago, it feels like i have to look up at a lot of things. physically. actually. like i’m just a shorter guy in a world of taller types. i’m that squatty little guy trying to reach for the coffee filters on the top shelf at Target. reaching to the point that my shirt comes untucked and I show a little skin. fearful at times that i might lose my balance and fall out of my wheelchair. right there in aisle seven. so, i find myself asking for help much more than i used to do. much more than i want to. i am vertically challenged. sometimes i need help. i’m a man. i’m a dane. i’m a proud cripple. asking for help doesn’t come naturally to me.

“giant.” anything larger than us. anything that seems to have the power to intimidate us into being less than who and what we are. less than we can be. or simply a challenge. a challenge that asks something of us that causes us to get out of resting mode and exert. to stretch. to be. anything that requires us to ask for another’s help in order to __________. you fill in the blank. you’ve got giants in your life. with a little work, you can name them. and as you name them, find ways to face them.

facing our giants doesn’t always need to be alone. sometimes, it happens alone. but not always. and sometimes the proud cripple in me refuses to ask for help. for support. and then i miss out. sometimes in almost tragic ways. so, how about you? you “normals” as i sometimes playfully refer to the non-paralyzed people in my world. what do you miss out on because you’re too proud to ask? too insecure to appear in need? whatever the reason… you try to go it alone, and then what?

i think i reach more than i used to. i kind of have to. if i don’t reach, i go without. if I don’t ask for help, i go without. if i don’t own my limits, i don’t know that i need to do something  to overcome them. what happens when we stop reaching? when we stop asking? questions mean that we dare to venture outside of our current answers. reaching means that we dare to go beyond our little realms of life-management. faith means that we dare to go beyond what is seen. what is felt. what is now understood.

there will always be giants in our lives. one kind or another. john ortberg makes this statement in his recent book:  “The main measure of your devotion to God is not your devotional life. It is simply your life.”  even this blog thing. “blog, blog, blog” sounds an awful lot like “blah, blah, blah.” i can sit here and write all day, i suppose. or i can get out there and live my life. face my giants.

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on monday i edited and posted some of my thoughts on twenty five years of paralysis. then i took off for one of my favorite watering holes called www.cabincoffeecompany.com in forest city. did the drive through and got some caffeine and headed to the river to scribble some thoughts in my journal. on the way there i got a call from shaffe, so we ended up talking for a while with the sound of the river in the background. talked about the day the scaffold failed me. let me fall. the same scaffold that caught shaffe’s leg as he was trying to get out of its way. so i sat in this spot and snapped three photos. saw three metaphors. right there. one spot. the trees on the bank trying to hang on. the shrub that has seemed to find what it needs at a place and then to grow. and then the river flowing. moving freely with a current all its own.

i think that some people are determined to stay on the riverbank. holding on. clinging to what feels solid. content to be near the movement but not moved significantly by it. hanging on to whatever sense of control they can. some seem to stay there near the banks and thrive somehow. ample water and nutrients and room to grow. and then there are others who seem unsatisfied to stay on the banks. there is movement. and there is such exhilaration when the longing for being part of that movement becomes a reality. when you can move with the forces around you. not losing yourself, but allowing a certain submission to the power of it. letting it offer some of its freedom to you. you offering yourself to it. going along for the adventure of feeling more fully alive. more fully immersed in what God is up to in this world. within the hearts of the people He loves and somehow continues to draw closer to himself.

“What if God really is at work in every moment, in every place? What if your job is just to jump into the river? What if your job is to figure out, from one moment to the next, how to stay in the flow? How to keep yourself aware and submitted to God’s Spirit so that rivers of living water flow through your belly, through the core of your being?”    -John Ortberg

i think that there may likely be a little of each of these photo themes…a little of each of these dynamics in all of us. sometimes we hold on tight. sometimes we’re content to stay put and grow. sometimes we want…even need to jump in and let the current move us. not hold on to things so stinking tight. to look for God and how he might be at work in every moment.  have an awesome weekend!

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twenty five years ago. on this day. april 25th, i fell from the top of the third story of my friend Shaffe’s house while painting a chimney casing. almost half of my life ago. admittedly, there have been times since the accident that i didn’t think i would ever live this long as a cripple [or as a “physically challenged person” for those who may insist on political correctness]. twenty five years. yet, here i am. typing and rambling about this long-time companion of mine called paralysis.

just a few months before the accident I was part of a group of musicians that did a community variety show in Harlan, Iowa.  I pounded on the piano and sang a few songs that night. one of the songs was “I’m Gonna Fly” by Amy Grant. It seemed appropriate at the time, as not long after that I left for the University of Michigan to study psychology. i left what was familiar. safe. i took off to pursue a new dream. and a few months later, the scaffold that I was standing on tipped and i fell. i didn’t fly as i had sung about months before. i just fell. over thirty feet. back broken. i have dealt with paralysis and wheelchairs and stairs. narrow doors and narrow-minded stares since that day, to name a few things.

this is Shaffe. one of the most trusted and loyal friends i have ever known. we were working together on that day. spent the morning painting and enjoying a beautiful intro to spring. each other’s company. oblivious to how much our lives were about to change in just a matter of seconds. oblivious to the detour in the road we would be traveling from here on. just soaking in the moment. laughing and talking about what seemed important at the time. when i look back to those moments i have a tendency to elevate them to sacred somehow. the blessing of normal body functioning. the freedom that comes with that. the countless things that i took for granted up to the point of the fall. from this angle of looking back, it is easier to see the sparkle of those things golden in life.

over the years of being paralyzed i have felt perpetually caught in a tension between playing it safe and taking risk. looking for places of protection, while at the same time trying to get out of them. i long for safety. i long for adventure and freedom. a crazy dynamic perhaps. the stuff of survival to me. the stuff of life and growth. the photo of the nest in the upper corner; while it is protected and not easy to get into, it can also be difficult to get out of…

i cannot encapsulate twenty-five years of life here. am currently working on a book that tells that story. but i would say this; i have learned so much of life through this. so much of myself. so much of the human condition. so much of the “God of hidden purposes” as Gordon MacDonald refers to Him. and even though there have been times where i did a lot of kicking and screaming [minus the kicking part] about this lot in life… even though i have spent a great deal of time in mental/emotional anguish about the why’s and why nots of it all… i opened my eyes this morning and was aware of so much that stirs gratitude in my heart about this life i live.

when i met and started getting to know this wild woman. Mare, as i call her. when i couldn’t help but fall in love with her.  there was so much about this relationship that scared me. so much about a “cripple” marrying a “normal” and all that i would have to ask of her. all that she would have to sacrifice to spend a lifetime with me. the fear of rejection and being too much trouble. staying in some kind of nest seemed safer. more protected from risk. from hurt. yet we’ve had more than twenty years together. Jonathan and Maggie together. such rich stuff of relationship and life together. such real struggles. such real joys. obvious as well as subtle examples of God’s presence and companionship in our lives. all along the way.

on one of the April 25th’s along the way Mare gave me a card with a quote from hemingway. “The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong in the broken places.”  that card still sits on the shelf above my desk at work. it is a reminder to me that the most important thing in life is not the break. the brokenness. the weak. more important than the broken is the response to it. “My grace is enough for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”  i have come to believe that there is purpose that runs deeper than the tire tracks made by my chair. i have come to trust more deeply in the Creator of the universe. the Creator of my soul. the Giver of Life. and let me be balanced here in what i am saying about myself. because there are moments, days, where if i could, i would still kick to go along with my screaming about the frustrations and anger that still accompany this companion called paralysis. i would love to stand up right now and pull on my sweats and running shoes and do a four-mile run like the last one i did on the morning of april 24th in 1986. and if i let myself go there in negative ways, i could let that completely ruin the rest of this day. this life. most of the time, i am grateful that i have the gift of choosing something so much greater. following something so much more purposeful.

And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.    Romans 5:2-5

check out a song i really like called “Faithful“ on the And If Our God is For Us CD by Chris Tomlin. available @ iTunes.

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