Misc. – Page 8 – Mark Spruill

Delicate Miracles

Jun 232015

The quail eggs won’t hatch and the mood is somber. With each passing day, hope is transformed into hopelessness. The somber mood, like a dense fog, hangs over the corner of the kitchen counter where the precious eggs rest in the incubator.

Tammy was so excited when the eggs arrived. She has been faithfully maintaining the temperature, turning the eggs and caring for the future quail offspring with more diligence than even the mother quail herself might have provided. But the eggs won’t hatch.

Quail eggs in an incubator

She started with nine eggs. Two were cracked, some weren’t fertilized, and a few did not develop. Only two looked like they might make it. One even briefly pecked at the shell, but then died in the egg. It was sad. Little bird lives that could have been, one ever so close, but never made it.

I have learned a few things through this experience. Of course the most obvious lesson of all is that, when life does happen, it really must be a miracle. Also, seeing her care for these eggs and the life within, I have come to realize how precious Tammy’s nurturing, loving spirit is to me. And seeing Tammy’s care really highlights the fact that mother birds are absolutely amazing. They have to be some of the most selfless creatures on the planet. It’s no wonder our Father used them as an example of His care for us, His delicate miracles.

As for you, the one who lives in the shelter of the sovereign One, and resides in the protective shadow of the mighty king – I say this about the Lord , my shelter and my stronghold, my God in whom I trust – he will certainly rescue you from the snare of the hunter and from the destructive plague. He will shelter you with his wings; you will find safety under his wings. His faithfulness is like a shield or a protective wall.
– Psalm 91:1-4 NET

How precious is your loyal love, O God! The human race finds shelter under your wings.
– Psalm 36:7 NET

Playgrounds

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Jun 012015

A Nice Playground

I went to the park the other day to spend a little quiet time during my lunch hour. While I was there, I took a look at the playground. It was a beautifully maintained playground, filled with swings and slides, and a few of the fun things that a society obsessed with keeping everyone safe will still allow. I saw the sign announcing the appropriate age range for the grounds, and felt a small twinge of envy. The swings, slides, monkey bars and climbing poles all called to some deeply hidden and long ago repressed sense of simple adventure. The question popped in my mind, “Why do kids play on playgrounds?” The simple answer is, “Because they are fun.” Who doesn’t like to swing every now and then? Even adults have porch swings. Which makes me think of another question. “Why don’t adults play on playgrounds?” The simple answer to that one is, we’ve learned to obey the signs that say “For children 12 and under.”

And that made me wonder, “Who’s making the rules and why do I follow them?” It’s one of the foundational questions of life I suppose. I think it applies to more than playgrounds, though it probably does have some bearing on how much fun we get out of life.

Bible Updates

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May 082015

As the grey in my beard takes control of my brain, I am beginning to think like old people. You know, that generation with the reputation for abhorring change. I’m beginning to understand the aversion. It’s because they are often on the wrong side of the deal. When you are young, change means getting a stronger body, getting smarter, more freedom, new opportunities, newer stuff . . . But when you get old, then the changes start happening in reverse. Your body changes for the worse. Change means losing muscle and gaining wrinkles. Your mind starts taking little holidays without you. The kids whom you taught to drive now demand you give up your license and your keys. The ocean of opportunities that surrounded you as a young person is a drying mud puddle. No wonder old people look on change with suspicion. It often treats them very badly. I’m still refusing to admit I’m old, and I try to embrace change whenever I can but even little changes sometimes make ME wince.

A new version of a version?

My Bible keeps getting updated. Not the printed one. The one on my phone. It’s like every few days the program wants to “auto-update” and at least once a month or so, it tells me my downloaded version of the Bible needs to be updated. For some reason, that bothers me. Am I crazy? I mean, why do they keep having to update it? Is God sending out revisions somewhere and I’m missing the news? With all the changes going on in the world, it would be nice to know there is something that is not changeable, not negotiable, and solidly entrenched in truth. A foundation that’s solid and immovable. If not the Bible, then what?

A club has bylaws. An organization has a charter. A republic has a constitution. What does a life have if not The Word of God? Everything else may change, but don’t change that on me. You may pretend its truth changes to fit your lifestyle if it makes you feel better about the way you are living or what you have decided to believe is true. You may embrace what culture, the media, and your friends tell you. But if you do, you will be clutching something that is constantly moving, constantly shifting, constantly changing. That’s no way to steady a life.

As I see it, there are two basic types of people. Those who determine to conform their life to The Word of God, and those who determine to conform the word of God to their life. One way helps you stand. The other is sure to let you fall.

“For I am the LORD, I do not change; Therefore you are not consumed, O sons of Jacob.
– Malachi 3:6

Life’s Adventures

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Mar 262015

A Sign Along the Trail

I recently returned from a weekend of hiking and camping with my dad. We saw cool sights. We walked until our feet and knees were screaming “No more!” We came home dirty and tired and sore, and with memories that will last forever.

Dad and Me Taking a Break at The Stone Door

I could tell you every detail of where we went, what we saw, and what we did. I could try to explain the experiences we shared, the hardships we faced, and the joy of the journey. But you will not truly understand until you try it yourself.

A journey with God is that way too. Don’t sit on the sideline. Get out there and walk with Him.

Sometimes You Need a Napkin

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Jan 212015

If you don’t need a napkin when you eat your Arby’s sandwich, then you didn’t put enough sauce on it. I wonder if life is kinda that way too. If it doesn’t get a little messy sometimes, then maybe you aren’t doing it right.

Messy, but good!

Promised Land

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Dec 292014

So Joshua said to the Israelites: “How long do you intend to put off occupying the land the Lord God of your ancestors has given you?
– Joshua 18:3 NET

I read this the other day and it keeps coming back to me. I wonder how much “promised land” there is in my life, just waiting for me to march in and enjoy the blessings?

Hands

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Dec 062014

Do you know that feeling when you wake up in the morning and you’ve been laying on your arm so that it cuts off the circulation to your hand? Your hand loses its feeling for a few seconds. You grab it with your other hand and it feels totally bizarre, like you just took hold of someone else’s hand. It feels like you are holding hands with a stranger all the while you are grasping your own hand. Then the tingle comes, the feeling rushes back, and things return to normal. Your hand feels like your hand again. Things are back the way they should be. It’s familiar, and comfortable.

There are other familiar hands in my life. After more than 30 years of marriage, my wife’s hand is very familiar to me. We probably hold hands much more often than the average married couple. We always have. Sometimes, when we are laying side by side in the early morning, I will reach over, grasp her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze that says “I love you. You are so precious to me.”

If, on some future sad day, God chooses to allow death to separate us and I am left, I think one of the things I will miss most is holding Tamera’s hand. Hands are special. Mouths tell of love. Feet take us to love. But hands . . . hands are what make love active. Hands show love in the most real and concrete ways. Hands make love happen.

Oh God, help me to have loving hands. And please, Heavenly Father, may I learn to recognize your hand in my life. Let me feel that gentle squeeze of the nail scarred hand that says “I love you. You are so precious to me.”

Hard Places To Get To

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Nov 272014

I like to hike. I’m not sure why. It’s just walking. Most anybody can do that just about anywhere. Even so, not everybody goes everywhere. I guess that’s the draw and the challenge of hiking for me. The real fun in hiking is all about the places where some people can’t and most people don’t go.

The trail to the top of the mountain with the beautiful view is usually long, winding and difficult. I’m not saying there aren’t beautiful views that are quick and easy to get to. There are. Though in my experience, those places are usually filled with car traffic, hotels, hot dog vendors, and crowds of people. No. If you want to see the place that few people get to see, if you want to quietly adore God’s magnificent creation in a remote natural theatre, it usually means enduring a difficult path to get there. And so it is with life. To get to those special places in life often requires we take the road less traveled and endure a long and arduous journey. If it’s anything like my experience hiking, it’s always worth it.

Growing

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Nov 092014

An interesting character along the path

Sam and I went for a hike in the National Forest yesterday. Since it was a beautiful day at a popular spot, the trail was pretty busy. We met several interesting characters along the way, but one of the most interesting was a rather old looking individual that was standing beside the path.

As we walked past the spot where he was resting, we commented about how large, strong and tall he was. I did a double take then recognized him as one Mr. Oak Tree. Sam, being the friendly guy he is, stopped and struck up a conversation. “How long have you been resting here?” he asked.

“A lifetime,” said Oak with a playful rustle.

Sam and I glanced at each other with a quizzical look of disbelief. This character had to be at least 100 years old.

I turned to Mr. Tree and suggested he might want to move along the path and see more of the world, to which he replied, “The Creator instructed me to wait here, so that’s what I’m doing.”

We stood and stared for a moment, but Oak didn’t seem to mind. As a matter of fact, I think he almost enjoyed the attention. After I took a picture, we turned and headed on down the path. Looking at Sam I commented, “Don’t you wonder what made him so big and strong?”

Oak can evidently see and hear a lot from his height because he heard me and replied with a windy, one-word sigh, “Obedience.”

Cranberry Bread and the Smell of Love

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Nov 012014

As I write this, I can smell the cranberry bread cooking. It smells so good it makes my mouth water just anticipating the wonderful flavor that smell promises. I think the sense of smell is sometimes underrated because we take it so for granted. Or we complain about the bad smells. Skunks, garbage, BO, poop, road kill, rotten meat . . . I’ll take all the bad, if it means I also, on occasion, get to smell that cranberry bread cooking. If I get to smell a rose, or a magnolia bloom in summer, it’s worth a hundred skunks all the rest of the year. It all comes with the sense of smell, a wonderful gift from God. God, who must have considered an evil, hateful world, and decided the beauty of love, given from a free will, was worth it.

Therefore be imitators of God as dear children. And walk in love, as Christ also has loved us and given Himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling aroma.
– Ephesians 5:1-2

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