Gastropods

My only real serious contact with a gastropod has been in a restaurant. My parents used to dress us up occasionally and take us to a gourmet supper club in Chicago called "The Whitehall". Mental snapshots come to mind of crisp linen tablecloths, waiters with white towels draped over their forearms, and me, a 10-year-old, confidently ordering Escargots a la Bourguignonne. Outside of snails floating in butter and garlic, I never have given them much thought.

In fact, before I read The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, by Elisabeth Tova Bailey, I might have stepped on this little slug, making its way s-l-o-w-l-y down my driveway on a carpet of slime. But after devouring this little book about the lowly gastropod, I was thoroughly enchanted.

Some little-known facts:

• They have 2,640 teeth, 80 rows of 33 teeth per row, which regenerate every 6-8 weeks!
• Their tentacles are equipped with eyes that retract. (so sci-fi!)
• They live in silence. They have no ears. They 'hear' with their eyes.
• Their slime is their 'soul' and the medium for all things gastropod--locomotion, courting, mating, protection.

And, it goes without saying, they are s...l...o...w... In fact, the reason the author became such an expert on snails is that her own life slowed down almost to a complete halt when she was diagnosed in her early 30's with a rare disease that left her bedridden for years. Her main source of distraction was observing a small snail that one of her visitors had planted on some violets that she brought for her.

When I think what I was doing in my 20's and 30's, the mental snapshots come back a little blurry. My pace was the speed of light--rushing from one thing to the next, priding myself on multitasking-to-the-max. The thought of being bedridden, content with watching snails slime their way up a leaf just doesn't compute.

Slowness is so contrary to my nature--if anything is worth doing, it's worth doing FAST. And yet, from God's point of view, slowness is not a negative attribute. In fact, we 'hear' God best when we slow ourselves down and listen for that almost undetectable sound of Him moving through our thoughts, our memories, and our dreams.

I regard snails, even slugs, with a little more respect now. (But that falls short of promising never to eat Escargots a la Bourguignonne again.)

"The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." 2 Peter 3:7

Morning Mist

Tuscany, Italy. If you have ever had the good fortune to visit it, you probably fell in love with it, like I did. The miles and miles of rolling hills, covered with vineyards, olive groves, and iconic Italian cypress trees are punctuated with ancient walled cities that poke out of the rolling landscape.

Colors burst from every nook and cranny, and I tried to document and freeze each dazzling moment. The morning mist that hung over the mountains softened and hushed the vistas, captivating me with its beauty. The sunlight on the pastures and buildings and flowers spoke to me in ways that didn't attract my attention when I backpacked through Europe in my early 20's.

There's been a lot of water under the bridge since then. It seems a lifetime ago, almost like my trip to Tuscany, which was only a few days ago. It's over, and all I have to prove I was there are my memories and my photos. As I ponder crossing the 'midline' of my life, I try to fast forward myself and imagine what I will feel like when it is ALL behind me--no more possibilities for travel or adventure or love looming in the distance.

Life at times moves so swiftly you barely have time to take a breath. Life at times moves so slowly you cry out in anguish for someone to put you out of your misery. God, however, lives outside of time and memory. From His perspective, all is now: the present, the past and the future. And that includes my present. my past. my future.

Thankfully, only God knows what the future holds for me and leads me into it step by step. But more than that, He doesn't hold the sins of my past against me. Those memories have a paralyzing effect on me and prevent me from enjoying all that God has for me today. God, however, in His grace and mercy, promises to sweep them away like the morning mist and leave the dazzling sunshine in its wake.

And that's a place I can't wait to visit.

"I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you." Isaiah 44:22

The Fortress

Walt Disney really got around. According to the local tour guides, after Disney visited Segovia, Spain, he was inspired by the Alcazar and rushed home to build Cinderella's castle in Disney World. Wikepedia concurs, so it must be so.

Nowadays, with nuclear war looming at every turn, it seems almost quaint to think that a fortress was the first line of defense against an enemy. Could the whole town's population really fit inside its walls? When I took the tour of this palace, it sure didn't seem as though that would be the case. (Maybe people were smaller back then.)

But let's assume they could. What a wonderful feeling that would have been, to know that you were safe within the walls of the castle and that someone, preferably many, well-armed and well-trained soldiers would defend you against marauders and murderers and approaching armies.

I've always wanted to think of my home as my sanctuary, a place where I can kick off my shoes, change into something cozy and get comfortable when I walk inside the door. . . a place where I'm safe from the outside world, where I'm accepted as I am, and where I don't have to work at being accepted or understood. In an ideal world, that would really happen.

But the real world sometimes slips under the doorjamb and invades my vision of what my 'house of refuge' is supposed to be protecting me against. Doors slam, voices raise, or even worse, an uncomfortable silence permeates every nook and cranny.

When that happens, it's good to know that there is a Mighty Fortress who I can run to. I will always fit within His walls, I will never be shut out, and He's always home. I can run 'home' any time I want.

Cinderella's Castle may have been a figment of one man's prolific imagination, but my God, thankfully, is not.

"The LORD is my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer; my God is my Rock, in whom I take refuge, my Shield and the Horn of my salvation, my Stronghold."

Psalm 18:2

Blue Nudes

So many of the people in my life are artists--Phyllis Jean paints sublime blue nudes on Chinese silk. Maggie is an emerging sculptor. Donna writes poems. Susan creates jewelry. Bob carries his trumpet in his back pocket and plays anywhere there is a stage and an audience. Peter plays the harmonica like Bob Dylan. My sister, Karen, was an actress, a seamstress, a chef. Sandy, my niece, writes screenplays. Kristi sings like an angel, and my daughter dances like an angel. There are many others...all so creative that I envy their talents.

However, not one of these people earn (or earned) their living solely using their artistic talent. I'm reading a book right now about Claude Monet. Just about everyone today recognizes that name as the founder of the Impressionism art movement and appreciates his genius. But for much of his life, he lived in abject poverty and struggled to make ends meet, unable to sell his work for many years. For so many gifted artists, it is the same.

Where does the passion and drive to create such beauty, even in the face of hardship and obstacles, come from? Why don't they just get up, brush their teeth, go to work, go home, eat dinner, watch TV and go to bed (like the rest of us)? What inspires them?

I'm not an artist, so I can't begin to imagine how each of them sees the world and how they strive to interpret it using their particular gift. How does a sculptor 'see' the David in a block of marble? How does a white canvas become a blue nude or a pond of water lilies? How do musicians 'jam'? How does a dancer see the steps in the music? I haven't a clue. Truly, these are gifts from God.

God has created in each of us something that not only understands beauty, but craves it. Unlike any other created being, we are able to appreciate it when we see it, hear it, touch it, taste it. Amazingly, there is even something in us that compels us to create beauty.

God made us 'in His image', that is, a little like Himself. He is the One who streaks the sunset across the sky, sparkles a full moon over the ocean, sprinkles the glistening morning dew on blades of grass, and whistles the winter wind through naked tree branches.

We are a little like the Artist and Creator of the universe...now there's a thought that inspires me.

"So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him. . God saw all that He had made, and it was very good." Genesis 1: 27, 31

Guapote

This fish is about as ugly as they come. When I first arrived in Nicaragua, a naïve young 20-something year old, I think my husband-to-be enjoyed testing me to see my reaction to some of the peculiar foods he put in front of me: tripe soup, stewed tongue, live black oysters, deep-fried pork skins, and my favorite, a fried fresh-water whole bass smothered in tomatoes and onions, called 'guapote'.

'Guapote' live in Lake Nicaragua, one of the only places in the world where fresh water sharks are found. These bass are caught the same day you eat them and served whole, usually with the eyes staring right at you. All I could think of when it was set before me for the very first time was, "My mom couldn't eat this."

Actually, this dish turned out to be my all-time favorite, one that I would travel miles for. I wouldn't think of a trip to Nicaragua without a trip to Granada for a 'super-sized' guapote and all the fixin's.

There really isn't a region or country that I have visited that I haven't enjoyed the local cuisine. I'll try pretty much anything. Some of it has been gourmet, some of it downright unusual. Once in Taiwan I discovered, after several minutes of being 'lost in translation', that I had eaten stir-fried bumblebees. (Was that tour guide just testing me??)

When God breathed life into man and woman, as recounted in the book of Genesis, He also provided everything we needed to survive and to live an abundant life. He meant for us to be 'fully satisfied' so that we would turn to Him in thankfulness.

Unfortunately, that's not exactly how the story ends...but I will start by being thankful for an ugly fresh-water bass from the waters of Lake Nicaragua.

It's going to take a little more time to be thankful for stir-fried bumblebees.

"I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You." Psalm 63:5

The Volcano

Santiago, one of Nicaragua's numerous active volcanoes, is one of the few volcanoes in the world where you can drive to the rim and peer into the crater to see the hot, molten lava--without being consumed by it, or I wouldn't be here to tell the story.

The day this photo was taken, years ago, my sister and I felt compelled to crawl, not walk, to the edge on our hands and knees. I remember thinking how wild and untamed the area was. There were no guardrails to keep people from falling off or throwing themselves off. No one did that day, but I wouldn't have been surprised to hear that it had happened. There was kind of an eerie 'pull' that threatened to drag you downward.

On the other hand, here in the States I have always felt that nature was tamed and safe and predictable. National parks have park rangers, well-marked paths, picnic tables, trash cans, and maps with little arrows that say, "You are here". Of course, people do wander off the beaten track and sometimes get lost or fall over a waterfall, as happened this summer in Yosemite Park. But you have to ignore a lot of warnings and safety rails in order to do so.

I think sometimes we tend to put guardrails around our perception of God and think we can tame Him somehow and compartmentalize Him. We don't quite realize how majestic and holy and completely untamable He truly is.

Putting a guardrail around the crater may lull us into thinking that we are safe and that the lava is harmless and manageable. How silly. Only God can tame the potential fury of the molten lava and keep it from erupting.

Or not.

"Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name; bring an offering and come before Him. Worship the LORD in the splendor of His holiness. Tremble before Him, all the earth! . . .Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let them say among the nations, "The LORD reigns!"

I Chronicles 16: 28-31

Mudpies

This may be a weed to you, but to me it spells 'm-u-d-p-i-e-s'. In the Midwest we call it 'Queen Anne's Lace', and it was the key ingredient in the luscious concoctions my sister and I made when we ran out the back door to play in the forest behind our house on summer afternoons.

We grew up in an innocent era when our moms shooed us outside to play, and we'd spend the entire day roaming the neighborhood. The only restriction in our family was we had to be back by 5:00. Or else.

But man, those mudpie afternoons. . .when I think about how simple and carefree life was in those days, it seems like another person might have lived them. Not only has my life changed dramatically over the years, but it seems the whole world has changed. It's a lot scarier for kids and parents alike. If I was a young mom today, I don't know if I'd let my kids ride their bikes to school or play in a park unsupervised. Heck, I don't know if I'd let them walk down a hallway alone!

Sure, we fought far-away wars overseas, but no one worried about neighbors kidnapping children out of their own bedrooms or snatching them from the school bustop. How could you ever have even conceived of a plane flying into a building on purpose?

If I had known a little botany back in those days, I might have had a healthy respect for the lowly, lacey weed called Queen Anne's Lace. Turns out, it is not only a type of wild carrot, but it's also a dead ringer for poison hemlock! Gulp. What if I had actually EATEN those mudpies??

But if I give in to the terror of unknown evils lurking behind every corner, I become a prisoner of fear. God desires us to face our world with grace and courage, not with fear and trembling. He alone can give us that calm assurance that we can face each day with confidence, knowing we are infinitely loved and that we matter eternally.

"The LORD is the stronghold of my life--of whom shall I be afraid?" Psalm 27:1