Adventure at Daybreak

It’s nearly dawn as I stealthily make my way up the center of the gravel road, my eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the heavy morning darkness. My wary heart clatters loudly in my chest as I look to the right, to the left; and then, with a start, over my shoulder as a mournful hound howls across the valley, and little creatures rustle in the grass as I tiptoe by. I turn for one last look at the dark, curtained windows behind which my sleeping family lies, and I question my motives for taking this drastic step. Stoically, I turn my back on home and comfort and continue on my way.

There, a hundred yards from me, crouches a menacing, threatening hulk and I stop in my tracks, trembling with fear. It doesn’t move, so I hasten on glancing behind me from time to time until I’m safely beyond its range. I increase my pace lightly until my heavy breathing slows me down. I consider turning back, giving up this crazy scheme, but, having made this commitment, I must follow through.

A little farther on, looming against the gray gloom, are three gigantic forms, joining forces near the fence line. I wonder if I can sneak by without inviting attack or physical injury to my being. I tense all my muscles, hoping to appear smaller, unworthy of harassment; slowly, one step at a time. The forms move slightly. I freeze. Again, they stand still. I carefully creep by and the danger for now is past. Only then do I realize I’ve been holding my breath for what seems like hours. Is it worth all this? I’m told it is.

I am on the main highway now. The lights of an oncoming car approach and I move quickly into the grass by the edge of the road. Headlights sweep over me and I fear the car will stop; a man will force me in and whisk me away, never to be seen nor heard from again. I ready my body to spring into flight, but the car passes by without incident and I am safe once more.

I quietly tread by a farmhouse, my shoes strike loose gravel and it crunches underfoot. Two dogs loudly protest the interruption of their slumber. They bark, each trying to outdo the other. I pray there are locked gates or chains between them and me. Their barking wakens the occupants of the house and lights go on in several windows. I hurry past, not relishing the idea of being reported to the police as a “peeping Tom-ette” or a possible fugitive from the law.

I stumble in a pothole in the road and nearly fall head first, wince in pain as my ankle turns. But I trek on, shoes soaked from the morning dew. Barn lights twinkle across the countryside as morning milking gets underway and I feel less alone when I see that I am not the only person on earth awake at this ungodly hour. Streaks of pink start to lighten the sky, dawn is on the verge of breaking.
The air is fresh, exhilarating, and, for the first time since stepping out into the cool, dark morning, I am pleased with my venture. The sun peeks above the eastern horizon and it is almost as if the curtain of night has been raised by the hand of God and Scene 1 of His new day is thrust forth on stage in all its glory. I feel rather privileged to view this breathtaking spectacle, a sight reserved only for the very early riser.

Suddenly, an invisible conductor lowers his baton, giving the signal for the birds to join in a sonata to this spring-like morn. I impulsively join in and they fall silent, startled by my human invasion of their feathered choir.

The world seems to be wakening by degrees; dusk-to-dawn lights blink out as the sun begins its shift, pink sky melds into dappled blue. I feel reborn and very much aware of being alive. I turn and head for home, kicking my heels like a frisky colt experiencing the joy of running free after the confines of winter.

Nearly home, I laugh aloud, the sound tinkling in the crisp air like merry bells, as I recognize the three oversized forms who had “threatened my very life” at the start of my journey as being our farm horses – Betsy, Sugar, and Dusty. They look very surprised to see me in the early morning light. The single threatening “hulk” is in reality a large, round hay bale, resting harmlessly in the field beside our drive. How unreliable sometimes is imagination!

By now, you must be wondering what drove this writer to forsake home and family, risking life and limb to journey forth in the wee morning hours and why I am returning home one hour later. Perhaps you have already guessed – I am a jogger, and they were right – the first IS the hardest!!

Road Trip!

“Mom, he’s looking at me!” “Mom, she’s touching me!” “I have to go to the bathroom.” “How far is it now?” It’s summer! Time for family vacations, time for making life-long memories with the family. For me, this brings to mind memories that were trying, amusing, and poignant. We took a trip from Wisconsin to Mt. Rushmore one stiflingly hot August - very different from today’s travel. Our car had no air conditioning, no DVD player to amuse the kids, no CD/tape player to listen to music – we had a hot car and three rambunctious kids who didn’t really like to travel.

After 700 miles of fighting, ornery children, an overheated radiator somewhere in the Black Hills, and a dead car alternator, the chances of our ever taking another trip in the future with our sanity intact were quite dim. Reflecting on that trip now only evokes laughter, joy, and good memories of a family together in love. All the harrowing details have long been forgotten. Our grown-up kids now say, “Remember that road trip…..?” and everyone groans and smiles.

Life is a road trip. We coast along, calm, enjoying the scenery for a time, then comes a mountain where we “overheat” and have to stop and cool down, assess the damages and go on. And along the way we meet interesting people, have new experiences, learn lessons, and realize that God is our “Triple A” guide. He has planned our route very carefully. He knows the bumps, He knows the level stretches, He knows the stops we need to make along the way.

We may decide at times to take the “scenic route,” straying at times from the road He has envisioned for us. He gives us that free will. And that may mean trouble. “Break downs” can occur, we need “replacement parts,” we need directions to help us get back on the right highway. He always provides those directions if we are not too proud to admit we have strayed. We once again ask His for guidance, forgiveness, for strength. We give Him thanks for leading us in the path that He originally planned for us and we listen to His direction.

We emerge each day knowing we have His blessings, we know His goodness and mercy, and we may be somewhat wiser for having taken “the road less traveled.”

“He’s looking at me!” Isn’t that great? He has us in His sight at all times – on the level stretches and climbing each hill. “He’s touching me!” How humbling to know that He touches us with His love every minute of every day.

“Road trip!” Life with Christ is the greatest traveling experience any one of us can have. May we always travel close to Him.

“Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all mankind will see God’s salvation.” Luke 3:5

Sing-A-Long For God

How important to you is music? Can you imagine a life without it? From the time a little one bops his chubby hands in the air in time to a Sesame Street ditty to our favorite hymn as we grow older, music “doth soothe the savage beast,” as the saying goes.

Whether you sing flat or sharp, off key or on, there is music in all of our souls, put there, I believe, to worship our God when common prayers might not seem enough. Many of my prayers are songs to Christ, such as “Jesus Messiah” sung under my breath around the house. “Your Grace is Enough” comes into my soul when I am stressed or worried. It’s “All Because of Jesus” that helps me thank him for my life – not only my physical life but my eternal life in him. “Amazing Grace, My Chains Are Gone” reminds me of all the earthly cares, resentments and sorrows that held me back from a carefree, forgiven life in the Lord. “Today is the Day” reminds me to give God thanks for this day that he has made – and rejoice in it!

Music lifts the mundane, monotone cadence of conversation to phrases that are lilting, light on the air, rising and floating above, touching others as they move upward towards our Maker. We worship, perhaps through music, as God meant us to worship, with a smile on our face, our hands uplifted, our hearts light and free and thankful.

Watch a little child twirl and jump and spin in delight in an attempt to dance to music heard or imagined. There is no frown on the little face; there is no pretense; there is no mask; there is no attempt to conceal glee. So should music affect us as we worship our Lord.

Music can be the most effective and beautiful method of praying and praising our God. It doesn’t have to be operatic, it doesn’t have to have great musicality, it doesn’t have to be backed up by strings and reeds and keyboards. Singing is a no-fail boast from worry, consternation, problems, depression, home-sickness. It’s a cure-all! No prescription needed.

Many of the songs our church praise band has been and is now performing at the Contemporary 10:50am service can be heard and learned on KLOVE. Turn it on some day when you’re dusting. Sing along and then you’ve got a head-start when you hear it sung in church. No excuse then for not belting it out, whether you’re on-key or not! An honor to our God even as the first song of David was to honor the Lord. Thank you, God, for music.

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:19-20