Intricate

I really don't like spiders, and I for sure don't like them in my house, but I have to admit to a begrudging admiration for them and their web craft. How can such a tiny and insignificant thing as a spider build something so clever, intricate, strong, and flexible, to say nothing of beautiful? And if I tear this one down (because it is blocking my back door), he just gets right back up and builds another one.

Proverbs 6:6 says to go to the ant and observe her ways to become wise. We could probably learn something from the spider too.

Here is a link to a site that shows step by step how a spider builds a web. (Of course, they don't admit to a Creator giving spiders such ability, but the illustrations are informative.)

A Stack of Bibles

My "paralyzed" friend, Melchizedek, made a post recently about his inventory of Bibles. That got me to thinking about my life a long time ago. I think it was the spring of 1972. I was in Bible college, on tour with a womens' singing group, visiting a church in Minnesota. Or was it Wisconsin? This poster was on the wall of their church. I was so moved by this poster, which went on to have a profound effect on my life, that I asked someone at the church if I could have it and they obliged.

I know you can't read it (this is a scan of a photo taken in 1974 of the poster as it was a couple years later on my bulletin board). On one side is a stack of Bibles in English. On the other side is a blank sheet of paper. One one side it says, "Dozens of translations of the Bible in English." On the other side it says, "Hundreds of languages without one single verse of the Bible." If I remember correctly, the poster was actually advertising for New Tribes Mission, which I didn't join.

I stayed in that womens' singing group for the three years I was at that college, and each spring we toured. Year three we returned to the same church where I had found this poster two years prior. This time, there was a poster advertising Wycliffe Bible Translators.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Our Integrated Lives

The conversations this morning went something like this:


He: Can you print off a couple things for me? Here are 7 urls, 1 pdf and 1 word file. And then I need 50 more color copies of the flyer--duplex, please. No don't bother folding them, I'll do that later.
Me: Grrr.
He: You know, if you had a real job, you couldn't complain like that.

Me: Your lack of planning does not constitute my crisis.
He: What lack of planning? I've been planning this for weeks. And what do you mean, "last minute"?? The plane doesn't take off for another four hours.

He: Did you pick up my business cards from the printshop?
He: Yep, and you're not going to like the mistake they made on them.

He: Where's my favorite shirt?
Me: I just finished your laundry.

He: Where's my new pants?
Me: I just finished hemming them.

He: You know, I don't think I have room in my suitcase for my tennis shoes, jeans, dress shoes or dress pants. Could you put them in your suitcase when you come?
Me: Sure. When I join you next week all I'm bringing is my toothbrush and a change of underwear.

He: Photos. Don't you think I should take some photos of the family with me?
Me: Have you ever heard of the internet? Let me write down the URL.

He: Could you make a back up copy of my Powerpoints on a CD? The one for the keynote lecture at Stanford and the one for the sermon I'll be giving 5 times. Don't mix them up.
Me: Mix them up? Hmm, that could be instructive--in both cases.

Me: Would you like some salad? It might be your last chance for vegetables.
He: I know California is full of fruits and nuts, but do you think there are no vegetables?