Closing My Eyes

If I wish to close my eyes,

There is nothing to stop me.

There are, in my house,

No babies who may soon awaken,

No toddlers whose safety depends on me.

I have no pressing appointments today.

No tasks that can’t wait until tomorrow.

If I am weary and my eyelids heavy

I can close them without fear that

I have been irresponsible.

I fall asleep in peace.

When I finally close my eyes,

I hope nothing will stop me.

That in my life, there will be

No one unloved, uncared for,

No one unwarned, if wayward,

No one unhelped, if hurting.

No commitments unfulfilled.

If I am weary and my eyelids heavy

I will close them without guilt,

Or remorse or fear, but trusting.

I will fall asleep in Jesus.

The Acharnians by Aristophanes

This is the first play I have read by Aristophanes, and I am feeling overwhelmed.  More so than the other Greek playwrights, his work is filled with references to people, places and situations which would have been known to his contemporaries, but which are way out of my league.

I recognize that this is supposed to be a comedy, and that he employs sarcasm and ridicule and the totally bizarre in working out his humor, but I’m pretty sure I’m catching less than twenty percent of the humorous references that would have been recognized by his audience at the time.  One thing that is apparent is that there was political disagreement and bad-mouthing of the opposition back then too.  Some of it sounds like the current presidential campaign.

The main character is Dicaeopolis.  He has despaired of the Athenians being able to negotiate a peace treaty with the Spartans, so he has privately negotiated one.  Various politicians are ridiculed for being self-serving and deceitful.

                Theorus: And he, with deep libations, vowed to help us with such an host that every one would say, “Heavens! What a swarm of locusts come this way”

                Dicaeopolis:  Hang me, if I believe a single word of all that speech, except about the locusts.

Dicaeopolis seems to be a man of reason and political forbearance:  Yet I know that these our foemen, who our bitter wrath excite, were not always wrong entirely, nor ourselves entirely right.

The Acharnians (who comprise the chorus) react very negatively to this statement and accuse Dicaeopolis of being a traitor to Athens.  However, by the end of the play, they seem to be on his side.

After considerable pontificating by Dicaeopolis, the scene changes, and we find ourselves in a market place where he is doing some ridiculous buying and selling.  He buys two pigs which are really children posing as pigs.  I have no idea what this is supposed to signify.

At the end, a contrast is drawn between Dicaeopolis and Lamachus who wanted to solve problems by going to war and is injured.  Dicaeopolis is carousing with some young women.  Dicaeopolis and Lamachus speak alternate lines.

L:  O Paean, Healer!  Heal me, Paean, pray.

D: ‘Tis not the Healer’s festival today.

L:  O lift me gently round the hips, My comrades true! 

D:  O kiss me warmly on the lips, My darlings, do!

L:  My brain is dizzy with the blow of hostile stone.

D:  Mine’s dizzy too; to bed I’ll go, and not alone.

So, it seems to me that Lamachus is a “hawk” and Dicaeopolis is a “dove” and that we haven’t progressed very far over the centuries since this was written.

Math: Invented or Discovered?

I have been doing some reading lately that has caused me to realize that some mathematicians believe that humans “invented” math.  I had honestly not considered that possibility.  I have always believed man “discovered” it.  I assumed that math was always there in nature…in the planetary movements, in the fluid dynamics of the blood in our veins, in the geometric intricacies of flowers, in the rate at which objects fall, in the correlations of sound waves that produce music pleasing to our ears.  We cannot take credit for any of that happening.  We have just noticed the relationships and attempted to quantify .them so that information can be exchanged.

I suppose modern mathematicians believe they thought up the idea of writing programs…of coding.  But the more we learn of DNA and the ability of every cell of our bodies to transmit essential bits of information, the more we are forced into believing that coding has existed in the natural world from the beginning also. 

I am wondering how long it is going to take and what will have to happen in order for the world of science to admit that someone actually planned it all out.  An intelligence underlies all of the natural world, an intelligence capable of mathematical precisions, of solving equations we haven’t even thought of yet.

I also recently read an online article titled “The two most dangerous numbers.”  According to this article, it seems that the strength of the Higgs field, according to the theory of general relativity and the theory of quantum mechanics, should either be “off” ( i.e. having a strength of zero) or “on” with a value which is absolutely enormous.  However, observations are that neither of these is the case.  The force is “slightly on.”  This is inexplicable….and also essential to the existence of the universe.

The second “dangerous” number is the force of “Dark Energy.”  The value by the calculation of physicists should be 10¹²⁰ times stronger than the value they have observed.  Again this is fortunate, as the calculated value would result in the universe being pulled apart.

A couple of lucky coincidences?

Harry Cliff, a particle physicist at CERN is quoted in the article as saying, we may be entering “an era where we will never be able to answer the question why is there something rather than nothing.”

On the one hand, one has to believe that there is a possibility that a break-through will come.  There have been periods of plateau and stagnation before the next advance previously in the history of math, and other areas of knowledge, for that matter.  There is no reason to stop searching for answers.

But…we have still to capture the real essence of infinity.  Who of us can actually wrap his mind around that concept?  Perhaps, we cannot go further into what is infinitely small either.  

I believe man’s knowledge will one day reach its finite end.  I believe there is something rather than nothing, because God Himself spoke that something into existence in all its precision and beauty.  He holds the knowledge that is outside of our reach and one day, every knee with bow.

Jael’s Nail…A Cautionary Tale

The mighty commander of 900 iron chariots.

Escapes alone

From the carnage of the battlefield.

Stumbling in exhaustion, he happens upon a tent.

An isolated tent

Occupied by a lone woman named Jael.

The woman averts her eyes, feigning submissiveness.

Sisera enters

With both confidence and desperation.

Jael can smell this strange mixture of emotions.

She is no fool.

The nomadic woman is more discerning than the commander.

“Oh, sir, please enter and I will hide you from your pursuers.”

A rug is spread,

He lies down and she covers him carefully, gently, reassuringly.

Before he drifts off, he asks for a drink of water.

She gives him milk

From an elegant vessel, she offers the refreshing liquid.

Fears allayed, the mighty man drifts off into a deep sleep,

Believing she stands

At the tent door guarding him, watching for his enemies.

His mind is dreamless, thoughtless.  He does not know that Jael

Is the enemy.

She stands at the tent door in watchfulness of him.

The depth of his slumber will only be pierced later

By the nail,

The tent peg, that Jael drives through his temple.

A sudden flash of brilliant, terrifying, painful light, he feels

Before darkness

Descends on his unsuspecting mind and his troubled soul.

The mighty has been brought down by the frail,

By hammer and nail,

In the hands of a lovely woman, the cunning Jael.

(From Judges 4 & 5)

Warm Underwear

Last night as we turned off the light and settled down under the covers, we were aware of the wind howling and roaring and rattling the windows.  It had begun to snow, and we remarked on how nice it was to feel secure in a safe home with sturdy walls and a protective roof, a reliable furnace, a comfortable bed and warm blankets.

I didn’t go to sleep immediately, and my mind took me back to childhood mornings when I awakened to howling wind and swirling snow outside.  Our house wasn’t always cozy warm, and I wanted to stay buried under the covers between the flannel sheets, which I called “softies.” 

On such mornings, my mother would come into my room, select a clean set of underwear for me, and hang it on the hot air vent in my room.  The furnace would be cranking out heat, and the blower would be sending it through the vent and into my underwear.  After a few minutes, my mother would hand the toasty warm underwear to me.  I would slide it under the covers, remove my pajamas and get into the warm underwear without leaving my bed.  Once enfolded in the warm fabric, I could force myself to fling back the covers and hastily put on my outer clothing.

Of course, no one had done this for my mother on those mornings.  She got up in the chilly house and put on chilly clothes.  She turned up the thermostat, so that the furnace would come on.  She fixed my Dad’s breakfast, packed his lunch, and off he went to work.  When it was time for me to get up for school, she did not come into my room, slobber me with kisses and say she loved me.  She handed me warm underwear.

It is easier to face the cold cruel world when you are wearing warm underwear.

It is easier to face the cold cruel world when your mother has shown her love, not just with words, but with sacrificial actions.

A Lesson in Giving

The sermon I heard this morning made me think of an experience I had when I was 18 or 19, that has influenced my attitude toward giving throughout my life.

I was really poor when I was in nursing school in the Chicago area.  I barely scraped by on the amount my parents sent me for spending money each month.  My Dad had told me that he would pay for nursing school, and I was on my own after that.  I knew if I wanted to go on to college, I had to earn some money, so when the opportunity came to work as a nursing technician after completing the first year of nursing school, I took it.  I could work on my days off and be paid and begin to save for college.

Obviously, nurses have to work on weekends, including Sundays, and there were many times I was required to work, but I pledged in my own mind and heart not to work on a Sunday if I could avoid it.  I had become active in a church in Oak Park.  I attended the services regularly, sang in the choir and participated in the college and career group.

As I was signing out, after working as a nursing technician one Saturday, the nursing supervisor asked me if I could please work again on Sunday.  She said they were terribly short-staffed and really needed me, if I was available and willing.  I hesitated, thinking of my commitment not to work on Sundays by choice.  But, I had the sense that the Lord was telling me to work and to give him the entire day’s pay.  I agreed to work and pledged within myself to contribute my earnings for that day.

At the time, the church I attended had a bus ministry.  I benefited from that ministry every time I went to church, as our nursing school dormitory was one of the pick-up points on the bus route. The bus needed to be replaced, and a well-to-do man in the church had promised to contribute half of the needed funds, if the other church members could come up with their half first.  I believed the Lord was leading me to contribute my paltry sum to this cause.

I worked that Sunday, and I kept my promise.  I handed the money to the pastor of the church and told him how the Lord had led me to give it.  A week or so later, the pastor contacted me, and said, “I thought you would like to know, that it was your contribution that put us over the half way point and triggered the donation of matching funds.”

That experience has influenced my attitude toward giving for over 50 years now.  If the Lord asks something of you, be quick to give whatever He asks.  You won’t regret it.  He will multiply your gift, and you will feel unbelievably blessed.

Tying the Perfect Bow

Yesterday after church, I ran into two ladies who were admiring the lovely and festive red and green dress a little girl was wearing.  One of them mentioned that when her daughters were little, it was my mother who had taught her how to tie the perfect bow at the back of a party dress.  I can believe this, but I also found it amusing, as I had not learned to tie the perfect bow from my own mother.

To be fair, learning to tie any bow was such trauma for me, that my mother was probably happy I could tie something functional and didn’t worry about appearance.  Learning to tie ones own shoes was a huge deal in my kindergarten class.  As soon as we could demonstrate our ability to tie our shoes, we were honored with a bow pinned to our blouse for the day to let everyone know of our achievement.  I was the youngest person in my class.  I actually was too young to start school, but I was such a pain at home, that my mother took me to school at the age of 4 years and 4 months and begged them to take me.  Although my brain was clearly ready to be occupied by something other than telling my mother how to run the household, my fine motor skills were more in line with my age and tying a bow was quite beyond me.  My mother later said that I spent most of my kindergarten year bemoaning my inability to tie a bow, and sometimes crying that I would never get to have a bow pinned to my blouse.  I was so ecstatic when I finally came home sporting that bow, that I’m sure my mother didn’t care whether my bows looked perfect.

Unfortunately, I didn’t learn the correct way to tie a bow until I was eighteen, and the person who taught me wasn’t very kind about it!  After high school, I went into a 3-year diploma nursing program.  That would be the old style of nursing education where one was a slave of the hospital.  As we rotated through various specialty areas, we spent time in the operating room.  One fateful day, I was the circulating nurse, and as such, it was my duty to tie the bows at the back neck and waist of the doctor’s surgical gown.  He entered the room with arms raised, having scrubbed, slipped into the gown and turned his back to me to have the bows tied.  I had no sooner tied the bow at his neckline than he began to berate me.

“What is the matter with you?  Have you no idea how to tie a bow?  Don’t you know the bow is supposed to end up cross-wise….not up and down?  Do you want it to tickle my neck all during the surgery?  Look at your own shoes!  You tie your own shoes the same stupid way!”

I looked down at my feet.  Sure enough, the loops on the bows ran parallel to the length of my feet, not from left to right.  I wondered how I could have gone all those years oblivious to this huge faux pas.  I obviously could not correct my shoes then, but I did correct the bow at the doctor’s neckline following his instructions.  When I got back to my dorm room, I experimented with tying my shoes, and discovered there really was a difference in the results depending on which end of the lace was used for the first loop and which was wrapped around.  Imagine that!!

Since I didn’t get married and have daughters until after nursing school and college, I had perfected my bow tying before I had to use it for special occasion dresses.  My daughters were saved the embarrassment of an inept mother.  Lucky for them, I ran into that cranky doctor.  Shoes often have Velcro now, but I’ve never seen it on a party dress.