A Rustling in the Reeds

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Sanibel Island is a tropical paradise we northerners greatly appreciate after a cold, snowy winter. But even a tropical paradise has its down side. A Sanibel vacation sometimes includes encounters with alligators, terrifying to me.

I remember one night years ago when our  group of a dozen adults met at a restaurant several miles up the coastline. Three of us had taken advantage of Sanibel’s network of smooth, asphalt-paved bicycle paths that link most everything on the island, and had roller-bladed to the dinner.

On our journey home afterwards, the sun had set and the path was dark. Much of our route ran parallel to a briney canal favored by alligators, and as we rolled along, we heard occasional rustling in the reeds just inches off our path. I couldn’t skate fast enough and was surprised when we reached home without an alligator incident.

Yesterday Skylar and I were walking Jack, and she was learning how to hold his leash. Jack’s sniffing led us into the underbrush near a mossy canal, so I told Skylar we needed to back away, since alligators lived in there. We’d seen them many times, and when she didn’t respond I said, “Sometimes alligators eat dogs.”

Loving Jack as she does, that did it for her, and she quickly yanked his leash to pull him in the opposite direction. There’s nothing wrong with healthy fear, and alligators are to be feared. Every so often we learn of an attack, and in recent years we did read of a gator eating a dog.

Tonight I’ve been pondering my fear of alligators, along with other dangers we might not be able to see but are lurking near our life-paths. Do we fear the things we ought to fear? When we hear a “rustling” nearby, such as a fluttering of desire for something we know to be wrong, do we fear its consequences and immediately yank ourselves away, moving in the opposite direction? Or do we say, “It’s just a noise, nothing to fear.” Lowering our defenses against something that may be potentially dangerous can quickly escalate and become life-threatening.

Scripture tells us sin of all kinds, initiated by Satan, is quietly waiting nearby in hidden places. It lurks close to us like a coiled snake in the weeds or an alligator in the reeds, ready to pounce in a blur of quick movement. Without paying attention to the quiet rustlings deep within and heading in the opposite direction, we’ll be in trouble for sure.

Yesterday Skylar got to see a real alligator sitting in a swampy area of the resort where we’re staying. Even though she’s just two years old, she wasn’t frightened. “He looks like a log,” she said, and of course no one is afraid of a log. But I’ve seen this kind of “log” defy appearances and move like lightning. It’s important to keep a distance, and if it “rustles”, head in the opposite direction.

Concerning sin, there are harsh consequences for not yanking ourselves away.

”If you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.” (Genesis 4:7)

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Traveling Alone

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Taking a road trip shakes up our routines, and every once in a while that’s good. I think part of the reason I’m happy staying home is that efficient packing demands organizational abilities I don’t have. This skill-set is one of many I miss in not having Nate as my traveling partner, but traveling alone is my new normal.

Years ago, I had all I could do to pack for the kids and myself, and Nate usually lightened my load by packing his own bag, a job he did in five minutes. He was a champion at remembering to take everything he needed, including work assignments, legal documents and phone numbers. I never heard him say, “Oh-oh. I forgot something.” I said it so many times he got used to saying, “We’ll just have to buy another one when we get there.”

Something else I loved about Nate as my travel partner was his willingness to chat. No subject was off limits, and as the miles accumulated, we solved problems and made plans. He was also good at map-reading, but if we did get lost, he wasn’t above stopping to ask for driving directions. (No GPS’s back then.)

Another perk of traveling with Nate was his willingness to do all the driving. I could enjoy the beauty of farms and small towns, always fascinating. Being in the passenger seat also let me catch up on reading, knitting, note-writing or putting photos into albums. It amounted to a chunk of sit-down time that was hard to come by at home.

On recent road trips including my current one, I’ve been the one behind the wheel. As an antidote to missing Nate’s companionship (and packing, conversation and driving), I’ve tried to count my trip-blessings and have discovered a few perks in having to travel alone. I can have prayer times “out loud” without interruptions or embarrassment. I can skip traditional meal stops and be munching every hour. I can listen to music, sermons or silence, my choice. I can stop only when I need a break rather than any more or any less.

And although Nate isn’t seated next to me, my buddy Jack rides in the back seat, a warm body to talk to now and then. I’ve also had a strong sense of God’s travel partnership, taking him at his word when he says “I’m never going to leave you.” Though invisible, he’s always on hand, surrounding me with reassurance and providing the confidence to keep moving forward.

Of course I wish Nate was with me, too, but that option isn’t available. So the best choice is to receive what I’ve been given and not ask for more: a week with family members in Florida, a loyal canine friend who’s tagging along, the Lord’s faithful companionship and… a unique chance to race against the numbers on a GPS.

“Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.” (Jeremiah 17:7)

 

Travel Time, Part II

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After entering an automatic car wash with a car carrier strapped atop our van, the kids and I didn’t understand Nate’s stunned expression when he saw us come out. “What happened to the carrier?” he said, alarm in his voice.

When I looked up and saw it was gone, I knew where it had to be. All of us looked back into the car wash and sure enough. There it was, in two mangled pieces, completely empty. Its contents were scattered on the car wash floor, including the contents of several suitcases that had torn open. Wet carpet strips gently dripped suds over the whole mess like salad dressing over lettuce.

Since I was unable to put a sentence together, Nate spoke first. Passing up a choice opportunity to accuse the guilty, he said, “It’s as much my fault as yours. I should have stopped you from doing it in the first place but wasn’t thinking.”

 And it was my turn to be stunned.

Whether Nate knew it or not, he had modeled God’s love that day. He stood in front of me and took the blame for something that was clearly my fault, which translated to, “I love you anyway.”

When he refused to blame me, I instantly escaped everything that usually accompanies being blamed: judgmental words, embarrassment, a lecture. Although I deserved those things, because of his kind response, it all went away.

This wasn’t the first irresponsible act I’d committed, nor the last. All of us repeatedly goof up now and then, and when we do, we should willingly take the blame. Every mess is somebody’s fault.

God is the only one who’s never made a mess, goofed up or acted irresponsibly. He is never to blame… well… except for once. It happened when Jesus hung on the cross in anguish, voluntarily taking the blame for all our sins.

On that dreadful day he paid the price for every wrong deed we’ve ever done, every wrong thought we’ve ever had. Though we ought never to blame Divine Perfection for the messes we make, Jesus Christ accepted blame for them all. And what we hear him say through this incredible sacrifice is, “I love you anyway.”

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At a car wash half way between Illinois and Florida, we gathered up our soaked belongings and loaded them into the van, which put us back to square one on over-packing. Nate asked permission of the gas station manager to leave our trashed car carrier next to his dumpster, and we were on our way.

Although there were material losses that day, there was one phenomenal gain for the kids and I: an unforgettable demonstration of godly love.

“God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Where sin increased, grace increased all the more.” (Romans 5:8,20)