Awe-inspiring Art

I recently watched the video attached to the link I am providing.  It is absolutely amazing that such a tiny creature with a wee little brain could construct something so intricate and beautiful as the puffer fish does in an attempt to attract a mate.

The question burning in my mind is:  How can an evolutionist possibly explain this?  What set of circumstances could have led to this relatively primitive creature being able to construct something of such complexity?  How implausible!

I am sure some evolutionist will try to come up with an explanation.  However, when I see this, it screams Creator!  Someone of high intelligence and creativity thought, "Oh, here's a fun idea!  I will program this tiny creature to be an artist."

The world is so much more enjoyable when one considers that someone loved us enough to put us in a world filled with beauty that would stimulate our awe-filled curiosity.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1PID91sEW8

Is Mike Pence sexist?

Is Mike Pence sexist, because he won’t eat alone with a woman other than his wife?

The Internet is howling with rage over this believing that it indicates:

1.       That men are naturally without self-control.

2.       That this will keep women from advancing professionally.

3.       That it is indicative of male control and domination.

4.       And a lot of other silly things.

I say it is smart.

He is not saying that he would never be alone in the same room with a woman under any circumstances.  I suspect there are times when he is on one side of the desk in an office situation and a woman is on the other.  The door may or may not be open, but someone else is nearby.  Please note, this is not a hotel room with a bed.

I have been alone in a room with men many times.  As a nurse, I have seen patients in a room with the door closed and asked questions of a personal nature in a professional manner.  I have tutored male students in enclosed cubicles.  I have met with a male employer in his office with the door closed.

But…

That is different than going out to dinner with someone.  A dinner situation is not just professional.  There is an element of socializing mixed in.  There is opportunity for closer physical proximity than sitting across an office desk from one another.  The possibility of the line between professional and personal being blurred by either party exists.  If one wishes to protect his/her marriage and not give any appearance of impropriety, a two-some for dinner is not a good idea.  I would say that in the current climate even a male/male dinner or a female/female dinner that is supposed to be professional should include a third party.

Of course, I go out to lunch with lady friends.  But, the occasion doesn’t mix personal and professional.

A person who is in the spotlight, as a high-ranking politician, is going to be a target for any possibility of scandal.  There are folks prowling around just looking for some salacious tidbit.  He needs to be circumspect.

There are plenty of ways to interact professionally without a one-on-one dinner.  A wise man will use those opportunities to take the measure of the women in his circle and encourage their advancement.  He will respect them and his wife enough to protect both their reputations and his own.

I so want it to be true.

“Can it be true? Has Thylacinus been seen alive? And in mainland Australia not Tasmania? I so want it to be true.”  Richard Dawkins on Twitter.

Recently there have been reported sightings of a thylacine, aka the Tasmania tiger.  This creature has been thought to be extinct since the last one in captivity died in 1936.  Over the years, sightings have been ignored, but the recent ones are from reliable witnesses.  Cameras are going to be deployed in the area of the sightings to see if the existence can be photographically verified.

The thylacine is a most interesting creature.  It is a marsupial, i.e. it has a pouch, and possesses some characteristics that seem dog-like and others which are cat-like.  Its pouch is unique in that it opens to the rear, and both males and females have them.

The reemergence of such a unique animal, thought to be extinct, would certainly be cause for excitement.

I am, however, saddened that Dawkins a most renowned atheist, cannot express any excitement over the possible existence of a God.  Although not seen with the physical eye, God has been observed by millions of reliable witnesses.  His handiwork is visible with the physical eye and photographable.  Dawkins is evidently capable of ignoring these reports, and certainly feels no excitement over them.

What if he said, “Can it be true?  Has God been seen alive?  And on earth, not in heaven.  I so want it to be true.”

Now that would be exciting and newsworthy!

Here is the primary difference.  It is not scientific, and it does not hinge on how reliable the witnesses are.  If the Tasmanian tiger is found to be alive, Dawkins can be intellectually interested and intrigued, but it will require no change in his life or world view.  If the existence of God were to be verified, it would turn his world upside down…. or in my opinion, right side up, a most frightening possibility for him.

Ineffectual in the Face of Grief

I was there on an awful morning and watched as young parents were given heartbreaking news.  I was there and so ineffectual.  I blamed it on my youth, but I wonder if I would be any more helpful now.  What does anyone do or say faced with overwhelming despair?

In the spring of 1965, I spent three months at Children’s Memorial Hospital on Chicago’s north side.  The hospital, which was a very large complex occupying a triangular block, apparently closed in 2012.  It is hard to imagine a site where so much of significance happened in so many lives, as going out of existence.

I was in my senior year of nursing school, and this three-month stint was my pediatric nursing education.  We attended classes, but we also worked in the hospital nearly every day.  We had a variety of experiences as we worked days, evenings and nights.  There was even one toddler unit where a student was in charge on the night shift.  But, something we were not supposed to do was work in the Intensive Care Unit.  The truth, however, was that when the ICU was short-staffed, they sometimes called one of the other units and requested that a student be sent up to help.  This had to be a student perceived as being able to cope with what went on in the ICU.  The student would not be assigned to the patients requiring the most technical care…I only saw the babies who had had open heart surgery through the plate glass windows of their room.  But, I was pulled to the ICU three times. I know I was viewed as a cracker-jack, but it was easy to get in over one’s head there.

On the day of this particular agony, I was assigned to a toddler girl who was in continuous convulsions.  She lived with her parents in a Chicago tenement which was sufficiently deteriorated to afford her a supply of plaster and paint chips to eat.  The lead content of these materials had caused immense neurological damage.  Her physical care was keeping me very occupied.  I don’t remember the details now other than the jerking motions racking her poor little body with no let-up, in spite of medications and a cooling mattress.

A young doctor, a resident, I suppose, came in to talk with the parents.  He did not sit them down and approach his topic gently.  While standing in a crowded space between the bed and the window, he unceremoniously delivered the information that their child would either die or be a vegetable.  There was no possibility of recovery.

The young couple sobbed and clung to each other. 

I was in up to my eyeballs with the physical care of the child, but I wonder now, if I was using that as an excuse.  I had no idea what to say or how to say it.  I was barely twenty years old myself.  How was I to cope when confronted with this raw wound torn in their souls?

I don’t remember what happened afterward.  I think the parents left….probably to seek the comfort and consolation of support from the wider family.  The child and I both survived the eight hour shift.

I have thought of this many times over the years.  Especially, when I owned an apartment rented to a young couple with a toddler.  Unknown to me was the fact that the child had an elevated blood lead level when they moved in.  It dropped during the first six months they lived in my apartment which was lovely and had no chipped paint or loose plaster.  I found out when it sky-rocketed during the second six months.  It was reported, and a state inspector came in.  Even though the level had initially dropped and the inspector could find no deterioration of concern, the assumption was that my apartment was somehow at fault.  Before I could legally rent the apartment again, I was made to do thousands of dollars of work which was basically unnecessary.  When I protested, I was lectured on the horrors of lead poisoning.

Believe me, I was much clearer on the horrors of lead poisoning than the state inspector was.  She had never cared for a child convulsing.  She had never felt helpless in the presence of overwhelming grief.

Get Out There and Push

This morning I had to take Bill to the Jacksonville airport.  He is headed for Colorado for some meetings and some skiing.  On the way back to Amelia Island, I was traveling in steady traffic on A1A, and I came upon an interesting sight.

An elderly man in a white shirt and dress pants was pushing an antique car.  I am not an expert on classic cars and have no idea what it was, but it was definitely pre-1940s, and had been beautifully restored.  However, something was obviously wrong with the mechanical components, and the car had apparently ceased to function on the busy road.  A woman, probably the man’s wife, was in the driver’s seat steering, and the senior citizen, dressed as though he was on his way to church, was pushing the car to try to get it on the side street.

The light at the intersection was red, so I had to stop, and this gave me the opportunity to watch the situation evolve.  Along came a pick-up truck.  The occupants quickly sized up the situation, pulled over and put the hazard lights on.  Two young men jumped out and literally ran toward the crippled vehicle.  Both men were tall and well-built.  Either they do manual labor or they spend time in the gym.  They quickly began to help push the old car.

They had no sooner arrived on the scene, when a sheriff’s car turned off A1A and pulled up behind them.  The officer put on his flashing lights and traveled slowly behind them, warning approaching vehicles and providing them with protection.

A young boy got out of the passenger side of the pick-up truck and watched the two men helping the disabled car.  I supposed him to be about 10 years old and the son of one of the men.

The light turned green and I had to move on, but I kept thinking about this.  There are a lot of nasty awful mean people in this world, but there are also some kind-hearted helpful ones.  What a wonderful example those two men were setting for a young boy.  I have encountered young men who don’t seem to understand what being a man is all about.  They get some perverted notion that it is all about sexual prowess.  But what that young boy was seeing was an example of real masculinity.  Men who are willing to jump out of their vehicle, and put their time and energy into helping someone in need.

What a better world we would live in if everyone got out and pushed.

Light Will Come

Long before its appearance,

There are hints of the coming glory.

Streaks of color creep around

The fringes of the earth’s orb.

The horizon at the ocean’s edge

Turns orange and pink and purple.

The palette of colors blending uniquely

With the dawn of each new day.

Then a pinpoint of vivid color

Overpowers the pastels.

I am amazed by how quickly

It silently rises and grows.

Sunrise in all its glory.

Too bright for human eyes.

A radiance too powerful,

A searing, piercing light.

There are hints of the coming glory,

The dawn of a new day is approaching,

And we will all be amazed by

A radiance too powerful for human eye.

A searing, piercing Light will come.

Feeling Rootless

Perhaps two months is too long for me to be away from home.

Two months is long enough that I want to begin putting down roots where I am, but the knowledge that I am leaving soon hangs over me.  I have been away from home so long that I am beginning to feel disconnected.  The consequence is that I feel like I am drifting, and I am unsure of where I actually wish to land.  As I float along on an unfamiliar breeze, my roots are hanging below me like strings from a balloon.  I wonder where they might drag along and catch hold.

I have tried to keep myself busy here.  Thus far, I have read 11 novels, knit 3 scarves, made costumes for 2 grandchildren, given 1 chapel message at my grandchildren’s school with another scheduled tomorrow, taken an online writing course, and done all the normal household things like laundry, grocery shopping, meal preparation, cleaning, and paying bills.  I have also made some friends here.  I walk the beach for an hour most days, sometimes with one of my new friends, who is a neighbor here at the condo units.

I really like the church we attend here.  Our Sunday School class is comprised mainly of couples our age.  We have been out to brunch with the group, and they are friendly.  The music and preaching at the church are top notch.

But…

I don’t really live here.  My permanent address is a long way away.  I have a lovely home that is furnished to my tastes.  The can opener and iron there actually work.  I don’t have to think about which seasonings and spices I have available when preparing a meal.  I have a bit of a part-time job and some volunteer activities.  I am involved at two different churches there, and I enjoy both.  I have lots of friends and acquaintances….although, no one to walk the beach with or even to trudge through snow drifts with me.

 I also have boxes and boxes of “stuff” that needs to be sorted if I am pondering a move.  The downsize done six years ago wasn’t nearly sufficient.  Going home also means facing some tough issues and decisions.

Where am I supposed to spend the rest of my life? 

What is there yet for me to accomplish?

And…

Since only my first class mail is being forwarded, what has happened to all my junk mail?