Fishy Business

I have 27 cousins, and it's great - I love it. A great many of these cousins, instead of being Kissin' Cousins, are Fishin' Cousins. We love to fish!

One of the cousins, John, had a couple of great photos that I wanted to share. Below you'll see the results of one fishing trip: Both fisherman caught the same fish! (Now there's a moralism for you.) I wish I'd been there to see the realization dawn on them as they were both reeling in.

The fisherman on the left is my cousin, Aaron, and the one on the right is a friend. You may remember my postings of Aaron's photos of pre- and post Hurricane Ike when he was embedded with Texas Law enforcement and wildlife teams.

Another beautiful photo taken by John was on a recent fishing trip to Port Isabel. This is a Ray of some type, and it almost looks translucently other-worldly as it lies on the deck.

Thanks, John, for letting me share a couple of your photos!

Psalm 126

When the Lord brought back the captive ones of Zion,

we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter,

and our tongues with joyful shouting,

then they said among the nations,

"The Lord has done great things for them."

The Lord has done great things for us;

we are glad.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like streams in the Negeb!

Those who show in tears shall real with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

bringing his sheaves with him.

1 Day, 2 Events, 1 Reality

One Day: One August afternoon and we are all busy going about our daily lives, thinking our daily thoughts, doing our daily things. But, not all of us. Some of us are caught up in the joy of prayers answered, and some of us are caught still in our tracks by unexpected tragedy. All in one day.

Two Events: For several years there has been a little knot of folks dreaming and praying and working and praying some more to establish a college. A college based on the 7 Liberal Arts as modeled by the Medieval colleges which brought forth the blossoming of arts, culture, innovation and more. A college based on the 7 Liberal Arts seen through the lens of a Biblical worldview. New College Franklin finally came into reality and the first convocation ceremony took place yesterday with the inaugural class of students. There was great joy all around!

But, also yesterday, a young man went home to be in the presence of the Lord following a tragic car accident. He turned 19 years old on the day he went home, and he is undoubtedly celebrating his birthday with great joy in Heaven. However, his parents, family, and friends - indeed the whole community - are experiencing great and profound grief.

One Reality: The Christian life is a life full of paradox and antithesis. The antithesis concerns our life are we walk in the world, but not of it. The paradox of life - it seems - can be much harder to bear, but in the bearing of it is much richness and life. Within the paradox are the old familiar themes: Bought with a price to serve a Master, yet set free; we lose our life in order to find it; we are called to discern, but not to judge our brother; we die to ourselves so we can live for Christ; we give that we may be full; and most of all - like Christ - we die to be born again. He taught us saying, "...unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone: but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24. These little grains of wheat that we are and the little grains of what we do must necessarily fall into the ground and die in ways both small and great in order bear the beautiful fruit God has granted for us and for His glory. It is a hard thing for our minds to comprehend. We must walk circumspectly, throwing ourselves and our pain and doubt on the one sure thing, and that is Christ. Both the joys and the hurts of life find completion in Him who loves us enough to have sent His only son to die in our place for the penalty of our sins. To God be the glory.

How Hot Is It?

Now THAT'S hot!

Celia

This month marks 39 years since Hurricane Celia hit the South Texas coast between Corpus Christi and Aransas Pass. I was among those who evacuated the morning before the storm hit. Though hurricanes don't change, the way we deal with them has changed - some for the better and some for the worse.

This photo is of damage to property in Aransas Pass.

I am a Corpus Christi native, but was living with my family in Houston at the time Celia hit. As was often the case, my cousin, Teresa, and I were staying with my Grandmother in her mobile home in the little fishing village of Fulton, just one block from Aransas Bay. One of the many shrimping boats tossed around and damaged by Celia.

There was no Doppler Radar or Weather Channel at that time. The best way for folks to track hurricanes was by plotting longitude, latitude, barometric pressure, and wind speeds on a hurricane map, which everyone had. Because of that, everyone became their own weather predictor to some extent. Hurricane watches and warnings were issued as they are today, but it was considered more a recommendation than a mandate.

On Sunday evening, a watch had been called for our area, so everyone was on alert making preliminary plans and preparations and keeping a close ear to the radio and television news. On Monday morning, Teresa and I awoke in the dark wee hours to the voices of uncles, Grandmother and the radio. The watch had been upgraded to a warning and now plans had to turn into action. My Grandad, who was away at the time, owned a small shrimp boat, the Pee Wee, and my uncles were discussing how to get her out of the harbor and into a safe place before taking their own families away. Celia's wind speeds were only 90 m.p.h. at this point, so there was not a huge amount of concern, just caution. As 12 year olds, Teresa and I though this was terribly exciting!The National Guard keeps watch for looting in Corpus.

Teresa and I packed our bags and helped Grandmother with some preparations. Since there was time to kill before heading out, we walked down to Fulton harbor to see what we could see. At the docks and boat ramps, shrimpers were scurrying to secure or tow out their boats, but the most incredible site we saw (and I've never seen it since) was the bay itself. The water had fled its normal place due to the tidal action of the storm and was hundreds of feet out from the shoreline, leaving the sandy bottom fully exposed. At that point we realized that this was serious business and our excitement changed to sobriety.

At last it was time to go, and Teresa and I anxiously parted ways - she with her family, and I with Grandmother to my home in Houston. By this time the sky had grown very ominous. I'll never forget the look and color of the clouds. The doors of the Corpus Christi Coliseum are opened for folks to receive aid from the Red Cross and Salvation Army.

The few days we were away were anxious ones. The news reports weren't encouraging. Celia's 90 m.p.h. winds had leaped just prior to landfall to 130 m.p.h. and millions of dollars of damage had been done. My parents owned a small motel in Fulton - the Glen Mar - which my Grandmother managed, and we were all just a tad nervous. Even more importantly, we were anxious for family and friends. There were no cell phones, of course, and with lines down, communication was challenging.

When we returned to Fulton, we were so relieved to discover that - except for downed limbs and one broken window - the Glen Mar and Grandmother's home were fine. For the most part, Fulton had escaped devastation. There was certainly a lot of damage, but there could have been so much more for a village built right on the bay. One of the strangest sights I remember was Trep's Grocery right on Fulton Beach Road. Half of it was gone, just like a giant had stamped his mighty foot down and squashed it. The remaining half was absolutely fine, down to the goods still sitting on their shelves! We speculated that perhaps a tornado had hit it.People line up for ice from one of the many trucks that shipped in ice.

As family regrouped back in Fulton and Rockport, the adults were off to do clean-up duty while we children stayed at Grandmother's. She spread sheets in the tree limbs to create a large pavilion of shade and that's where we brought all the chairs and cots from the house. We kept one or two coolers for perishables with the ice we were able to get from the ice trucks and spent a lot of time swimming in the big, round cattle trough that Grandmother kept as a swimming pool for the grandchildren. We actually had a great time! Businesses and restaurants reopened quickly thanks to the hard work of the power company. Even those places that had a lot of damage held their business in their parking lots. Unfortunately, there were many homes and businesses that were mostly or completely destroyed, and aid poured in from everywhere to help with the rebuilding.

One of the many communication centers.

A few days later when folks were allowed to reenter Corpus, we took the 30 minute drive to Corpus, passing through Aransas Pass and Portland. Our mouths hung open at the devastation we saw there. We didn't spend to much time gawking because of on-going recovery efforts, but we had answers to our concerns about the city. Amazingly, we were able to get some grocery-shopping done there, shopped at Woolco Department Store, and ate at a restaurant near the bay.

Obviously we didn't have as bad a time with Celia as many, many others did. But, now as I watch the proceedings before and following hurricanes, I find so many interesting differences between now and then. Storm-tracking and predictions have, of course, improved 100%. It's truly amazing what information we can now have to evaluate storms and know what action to take. Evacuation efforts have also improved 100%. Even as recent as Hurricane Rita three years ago, we've learned more and more about moving people out of harm's way. Recovery organization and efforts have also improved, in most part thanks to technology and communication improvements. The willingness of people to help has never changed. What has not improved, however, is the dependency upon Government rather than private sector and volunteer organizations, churches, and neighbors. The slow, bureaucratic maze of governmental proceedings seems to less-helpful than the previous groups listed.

Regardless of my musings and memories, as hurricane season is currently in effect, I can't help but pay close attention - it's just in my blood. I could tell you other hurricane stories, but I'll save them for another time!

On Eagle's Wings

Almost 7 months ago we sat in the family area outside of the Neo-Natal Intensive Care unit absorbing, or maybe not absorbing, the hard, hard news of Beau's terminal diagnosis. As we mentally and emotionally scratched and clawed for a hand hold on the plummet downward, we found underneath us the Everlasting Arms.

As we began to feel the comfort of those Arms we could begin exploring His Word, and in doing so began journaling all that He was speaking to us. There was one tiny verse in Exodus that spoke to me then, and today it speaks even more surely to my soul.

"... I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself." Exodus 19:4b

God does not abandon us at the time of our greatest need, whether it is the death of a loved one or our own death. It is, in fact, when He sends His most powerful agents to aid us. The strength of His Spirit sustained us at that awful time and drew us near to Him, and it was a remarkable, holy time; even in the midst of great loss and grief.

But needs continue. Loss and grief continues, and what then? Day to day living - even though God hasn't changed and our belief in Him hasn't changed - grinds harder and more slowly. How do we live through such loss and grief? Is it even possible to live? And finally we grind to a halt. There is no more strength, no more joy, no more life. We have come to the end of things, to the end of ourselves; and then He sends the eagles.

In my case, the eagles were those who recognized the desperateness of my situation and walked with me daily, calling on me, and helping me to find myself for I had become lost. They listened to me and cried with me. They sat with me, prayed for me, and slowly began to guide me out of the dark cavern where I was. It was as if I began to awaken from a terrible, drug-induced nightmare to the realization that life can be new again. I can have hope. The film Lord of the Rings: Return of the King portrays this so beautifully. Frodo has managed to throw the ring into the fire of Mt. Doom, and he and Sam - having given all - lie spent on the rock as destruction rages around them, fully expecting to die. At that point, the eagles arrive and gently take them up, bearing them away to safety, comfort, and healing. And so our Heavenly Father sends his own eagles to bear us to Him.

This, too, is how I imagine our little Beau - gently lifted away by the angels and the great eagle to be borne sweetly and triumphantly to the Father in heaven who called His littlest lamb home. It has been hard letting go of our beautiful baby, but I think I finally can. I can begin the journey of healing, thankful for who Beau is, where he is, and all that he led us in. Yesterday when we visited his grave site, though my heart was sad, the great searing pain was gone. Beau lives on and so will I, thanks be to God who sends His eagles to bear us to Himself.

Whitsunday

The Feast of Whitsunday, or Pentecost, is celebrated seven weeks after Easter in the Christian liturgical year.  The day is of great significance to Christians as it is the day that the promised Comforter, the Holy Spirit was sent to Jesus' disciples, the newborn nucleus of the Church.  

Throughout Jesus' discourse to his disciples in John 14 - 17, as they celebrated the Passover just prior to His death and resurrection, He tells how the Holy Spirit, the Helper, the Comforter would be sent to them to dwell with them, teach them, bear witness to the Truth, and sanctify them to God.  Our Father did not make children of us just to leave us orphans,  He has sent us His own Spirit!  George Herbert writes beautifully of this glorious day in his poem entitled, what else? Whitsunday.

Listen sweet Dove unto my song,

     And spread thy golden wings in me;

     Hatching my tender heart so long,

Till it get wind, and fly away with thee.

     Where is that fire which once descended

     On thy Apostles?  thou didst then

     Keep open house, richly attended,

Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men.

     Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow

     That th' earth did like a heav'n appear;

     The stars were coming down to know

If they might mend their wages, and serve here.

     The sun which once did shine alone,

     Hung down his head, and wisht for night,

     When he beheld twelve suns for one

Going about the world, and giving light.

     But since those pipes of gold, which brought

     That cordial water to our ground,

     Were cut and martyr'd by the fault

Of those, who did themselves through their side

        wound,

     Thou shutt'st the door, and keep'st within;

     Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink:

     And if the braves of conqu'ring sin

Did not excite thee, we should wholly sink.

     Lord, though we change, thou art the same;

     The same sweet God of love and light:

     Restore this day, for thy great name,

Unto his ancient and miraculous right.