Of Chipmunks and Men

"Haaaaaaa!" 


Camper Neal Smith jumped from behind some brush yelling and screaming, hoping to give Rick a scare.  Thought it'd be funny.  Rick was studying one thing or another in the forest for the last forty-five minutes and it was driving Neal nuts.  

"Son of a!"  Rick shuffled nearly four feet backwards.  He moved so fast, it was like time travel.


Neal didn't enjoy idle time.  They'd entered an amazing state park complete with abundant exploration possibilities and an awesome beach.  Neal could think of no acceptable reason they should be sitting around. Joe was mesmerized by the fire, and Rick was, well, he had no idea. 

"Rat bastard." said Rick.

"What?"

"The chipmunk!," Rick replied. He was pissed. "I've sat here for almost an hour with this stupid bread in my hand, and my chipmunk was three feet from eating the bread from my hand."

"Your chipmunk?" asked Neal. I don't think it's the bread that's stupid; who spends an hour on their knees waiting for chipmunks to eat bread out of their hand?"

"Me," said Rick, "Judas."

And yes, my chipmunk, Rick continued. "I don't have to explain."


"He's not tame, he's not yours," joked Neal.


"Well I wasn't holding out for any other chipmunks!" replied Rick, "I only had that one...and a squirrel but he didn't last."


"How do you know it was a he." Neal never did know when to quit.  "They can't all be 'he' or there wouldn't be so many of those buggers running around."


"That's not the point.  I call them all he, that's just how it is," said Rick.  "Short of catching one and tipping it over, they're all 'he'.  I probably couldn't tell the difference anyhow."

"I am not even going there," said Neal.  "Doesn't matter.  I want to do something like hit the beach."  

"When I camp I do three things," said Rick, "smoke a cigar, drink a beer, and try to get a chipmunk to eat from my hand," said Rick.

"Who does that?" asked Neal.

"I think we covered that already," said Rick. "Anyway, waiting here...the forest calms me.  It's peaceful for me. I listen to the sounds in the forest...sort of like get in touch with nature or whatever."

"Who does that?"

"Who turned you into a friggin' broken record player?"

"What?" Neal had his eyes closed. He rubbed his forehead. "Let's do something."

"I mean, there's something amazing about getting a wild animal to trust me. It's like I think it was when Adam and Eve were created," explained Rick.  "I suppose I'm like one of the trees to them, I don't know."

"You're a tree with Wonder Bread branches," said Neal.  "Awesome."  


Neal paused, "But you're a biker. There's not a Harley man in the world that tries to get chipmunks to eat from their hand," said Neal, "You've got a skull on your gas cap and now you're taming chipmunks."

"It's a God thing man," said Rick, "And the bike came with the gas cap."

"Really?" said Neal, "You should find one with a little heart on it or something."

"Funny," said Rick. "Either way, I'm sitting there in complete silence, as still as possible, and the wind blows, birds sing, and chipmunks appear out of nowhere. Stuff happens man, I'm telling you."

"Dude, that's cool, but I think I'd probably fall asleep face down on the bread and the chipmunk would probably gnaw through my nose to get to the bread," said Neal. "Totally great movie plot."

"You wouldn't fall asleep," Rick replied. "Either way, when they take the bread from my hand, it tickles. Feels so cool. And the little thing is completely silent. You wouldn't believe it, but they don't make any sound. They get the bread and they're gone like magic."

"I like nature."

Neal didn't quite know what to say beyond, "I like nature." It's not like he was ignorant. He just wasn't the type to feed chipmunks.

"It's about the book of Matthew," said Rick.

"Matthew?"

"If God is willing to clothe the sparrow, how much more blessing will be given to me?" said Rick. "Accept I think the analogy works for chipmunks too."

"That's deep," said Neal. "You feeling insecure?"

"Sometimes," Rick replied. "It's just good to know, that's all."

"A chipmunk feeding Harley dude," said Neal, "That's just funny. Now let's do something!"

"What do we do?"

"Joe's by the fire, let's go and figure that out," replied Neal, "We'll go swimming or play catch, I don't care."

Neal and Rick joined Joe by the fire. Joe stared into the flames. 

Neal sipped his luke warm beer. Rick nibbled on Cheese Nips.

"Swim?" asked Neal.

"Sure," said the two others simultaneously.

Joe, Neal and Rick, partially slouched in their chairs, sipped beer and nibbled crackers.  The fire burned and they watched, rapt by flames. The burning logs hissed and spit.  The three men, without a word, listened to the fire crackle.

A healthy chipmunk skirted from behind them, ran underneath their chairs to the other side of the fire pit. He paused to test some morsel on the ground, but then scampered silently into another part of the forest.

Predictions

At the beginning of each year does anyone have an inkling about where they'll go by the beginning of the next year? I don't. I never have. The first day of kindergarten I had no idea about the first day of first grade. My first day of college never clued me into the fact that it would be 8 years before my last one. The first day I met Monique did not bring with it a vision of the day I would marry her which could not predict the days that would follow.

Yesterday I awoke and touched my wife's skin.

I believe I've come across a mantra, more like the mantra found me. Her body has aged, but her skin...I know it. I used to go outside in the morning and touch the dew. I couldn't feel much on my feet, but I could feel the cool of the dew. I knew I was alive in the morning. It is the same now. I'm desperate to acknowledge those who've lost their spouses. It's got to be as if your own skin were ripped from your body.

I worshipped yesterday. The band played their music. I realized I hadn't played my guitar in months. I couldn't. I couldn't seem to find my voice. I missed my guitar yesterday and realized, on a day I couldn't have predicted before the day happened, that I'm ready to play again. Music remains constant. Someone always plays. I want that.

Miracles are not a mystery. Neither is music. Neither is nature. God doesn't make it difficult to see him. It's more difficult to believe there is no God than to believe he exists! Touch skin, listen to music, hear words, touch the leaf of a tree, put fire to logs...those who can't see Him are rendered unexcused. And all of this shall be in communion with others. Sometimes someone else's voice guides you to your own genius...at least the place from where you shall make your own stand, and that with others.

Sometimes the mystery isn't whether you'll stand, but when. But then, just because I wasn't playing guitar doesn't mean I'd missed my life, or wasn't standing within it. What is Jesus doing?

Monique asked me what it was about her skin? I told her that I've tracked all my unpredictable days with one constant--from one touch I can tell whether she is sore, calm, stressed, satisfied, in love. I mean it. I know from her movements, the sound of her sigh...even the day when she existed at the tip of her breath, a strangled gasp. I know her because I touched her. I fiercely love her and, in all her days she will know what that means, simply because I touch her. She knows that each morning she leaves the house, that her bridegroom bears little wealth or worth until her worth has been tended and realized. There's consistency amongst the unpredictable.

I don't know my days. Heck, I didn't know it would take 20 years for the L.A. Dodgers to make it to the Division Championship nor did I understand it would take 30 years to realize my dream as a motorcyclist! I thought I knew that my company would be up and running by now, but instead it will be soon. God does what he does. It's awesome that I could tell and hear my family's stories last week. I was reminded that I've wanted a motorcycle since I was 15 or before that even! I know more about my Dad's experience from Viet Nam. I know more about my sisters' lives and about my mother's health. It's fantastic that I am allowed to enjoy small-talk--even very small talk. The weather IS nice today and I don't mind telling you that you look good today. Your teeth are white and yes, I did sleep pretty well last night, thanks. We should talk, even if the words and the topic are small. Life isn't always made up of a constant barrage of big words.

It's pretty sweet that I and friends and family get to enjoy a little October baseball with our favorite teams. It's a sweet thing to hit the road on two wheels. I played a few chords today. Indescribable. Words and lives mean nothing unless you're willing to share with them...protect them.

I can't predict any of my days, and some things are constant. They intermingle somehow. I don't have an angle on predictions, but if you know me then trust me. Learn how to enjoy God in all things. I haven't...I couldn't predict that either. But I know from experience that it's worth it. Enjoy God.

I never say as much as I want, nor do I often write as effectively as I know how. Either way, I touch my wife's skin, then I step outside and Lord willing, I see the light.

Project Vacation Alleluia

We're in Pagosa Springs Colorado and staying at a Wyndam Resort which is part of Mom and Dad Huizinga's world-wide Time Share capabilities.  I look out over a small lake into the San Juan mountains in the cool soft morning air.  We've been blessed with a sensory feast over the last week.

Our drive to Pagosa Springs included a trip through the Grand Tetons and a roll and stroll through Flaming Gorge.  Magical.  I've a much greater understanding of how it might be possible to be safe in the hand of Almighty God.

Saturday we arrived in Southern Colorado at nearly the same time as Monique's Uncle and Aunt, Gerrits and Susie Kasper.  As if time with them isn't easy and delightful enough, they brought with them a hundred proof bottle of a whiskey blend called Yukon Jack.  There's no tellin what Yukon Jack did as a young boy, but you can bet he was a trouble maker!  

In actuality, the night and the next day were delightful and so six of us and Yukon Jack spent a late evening together and by morning...Yukon Jack had left the building!  None of us were drunk or anything like that and Monique and Dad Huizinga sipped on wine and nibbled cheese throughout the evening, but Ol' Yukon grew up to be a fine companion.

We'd hiked and walked and driven so much since the Lifelight Music Festival in Sioux Falls last weekend already, that we've welcomed the chance to sit down on soft couches in this magnificent and large place here in another part of creation that God smiled upon long ago.

It's Monday morning and I have no idea what's in store for today.  We might go see Chimney Rock a few miles outside of town.  Chimney Rock sets high above the landscape, and somehow has been carved and shaved until the sculpture resembled a giant chimney.  Light a match to it and nothing happens...but it sure looks like a place one could have a cozy fire!  Well, bigfoot or Paul Bunyan could anyway.

I never wrote about Lifelight Music Festival...the thing that began our quest for pieces of Heaven.  The weather was almost perfect while we were there...the wind was a bit high, but the temperature and good fortune held up.  My family camped together in the the New Testament campground and it is a place to find a little refuge when you're sick of walking around or while you wait for the band that suits your fancy.  

The music was awesome, the company of family and friends was delightful.  

So began project "Vacation Alleluia."