Meandering Moments by Elsi

Tuesday night I heard Dolphin banging around on the stove, knocking things off. When I went to investigate, he told me there was something chirping in the fan vent above the stove. Oh, dear!

It was still chirping Wednesday morning, but by Wednesday evening it was only flapping and flopping around. I called animal control, which said they don’t do that kind of thing. So I Googled pest control and critter removal, emailing several businesses. Thursday morning the bird was quiet. Thursday evening I got home (having taught all day) to a phone message; they’d come out and try to help. HalleluJah!

He came Friday. He went into the attic but couldn’t find anything, because there’s a pipe or something in the way. He said helpfully, “My specialty is bugs.” And went away. Sigh.

So I called Reed, a college guy who helps with the youth group, and a friend of mine. “Help!” I said. “I’m feeling muchly like a damsel in distress!”

Reed came over after youth group, and left about 11 p.m.. He took the fan and motor out of the hood, but there was nothing above it. Then he went into the attic (chinning himself to get through the hatch, ’cause I don’t own a ladder) and crawled over to the pipe. He detached the pipe and shone his flashlight down it.

“Hey, Elsi!” he called. “Good news! It’s still alive!”

“Wonderful!” said I.

“And there’s bad news, too,” he went on.

“Oh?”

“Yeah … it’s not a bird.”

“What? I heard it chirping! What is it?”

“I think it’s a squirrel.”

I had one of those long-handled grabber tools and passed it up to him, along with a box and his gloves. Eventually he retrieved the thing (”It’s HOT up here!” he said several times) and closed it into the box. “It’s a chipmunk!”

He passed the box down to me, and took the little guy into the foothills to release him, thinking hopeful thoughts. I suppose the chirping could have been chittering …

I sat on a boulder

            on a rocky hillside,

            hummingbirds buzzing by,

            orange and brown lichen,

            edges digging into my thighs …

praising the Lord for His creation,

            Jesus, our foundation,

            the solid Rock.

I leaned on a tree,

            pine needles in my hair,

            my questing fingers

                        sticky with sap,

                        chipping dusty bits of bark,

            chittering ground squirrels

                        darting by,

and I praised the Lord

            for His creativity:

            so many different types of trees,

            Christ crucified on one.

I surveyed the heavens

            abounding with stars,

            such variety of sizes,

                        brightness,

            patterns known and unknown.

A meteor streaked across the background,

            an exciting sight

            quickly fading,

as we sang praise to the One

            Who knows the stars by name.

And all these bits of creation—

            rocks,

               trees,

                  stars,

                        and person,

sing praise to the Lord, their Maker:

We moved softly through the silent house, eager to see the Perseid meteor shower, and stopped, frozen by awe at an expanse of stars unhindered by city lights. “When I consider Your heavens,” I whispered from Psalm 8, “the moon and stars which You have set in place … Oh, Lord, how majestic is Your name!”

Necks aching, we stared at the sky. Northeast, we had been told. Where … when … Oh! Look! More waiting, until there’s one! Streaks of light across the heavens.

Someone began to sing. Another! Chris Tomlin’s “You set the stars in their place, and You know them by name … You are amazing, God!” Look! Seven teens and their leaders, lying under blankets on the splintery deck or on benches, singing of stars and their Maker.

We tiptoed back to bed at 3:20, overwhelmed by the glory of God’s creation, singing praises, filled with joy.

posted by Sallie: Clearly, I’m the most popular and most important member of this traveling team! My new friends from Alberta came knocking on our door this morning, asking for the privilege of going walking with me! Cole and I had a lovely time! I tried to kidnap him, take him with us, but for some reason his mother didn’t approve. Sigh.

Then, this afternoon, we stopped at a rest area in eastern Oregon, hopped out to find a potty spot, and a man down the parking lot called out, “That’s a cute dog! What a sweetie!”

See? I’m the most important, most popular, best loved person here!

from Dolphin: Hmmmmph!

Oh, the Oregon Christian Writers Conference was a blessing! Excellent workshops, good fellowship—Bill Myers, the keynote speaker, was inspiring and challenging. And I sold a few pieces to Live, an adult Sunday school take-home paper, and have some direction and encouragement on some other pieces. A wonderful week from start to finish.

The conference ended at 12:30 today, and I headed east on I-84. I never make it far after OCW; I’m too tired and overwhelmed. So I’m in the Cascade Falls (Oregon) KOA. My next-door neighbors are a family from Alberta, towing a borrowed fold-out. Sallie greeted them with enthusiastic barks, so I got to meet them, also. They’re headed for San Diego, then home. I directed them to the Florence Sea Lion Caves; they’d already gotten that word from a family at the pool.

I chatted with the parents while Cole set aside his scooter and walked Sallie. Oh, such a happy dog, to have someone young and healthy take her for a real walk! Younger brother Jack (aka Harrison) went along. Sallie was blissful!

I invited them in to see the inside of the RV and meet Dolphin, who was actually friendly! These must be extremely nice people, if even Dolphin approves!

I should be home Monday evening, ready to settle back into my normal schedule. It’s been fun!

Today’s the first day of the Oregon Christian Writers summer conference, and so far it’s been wonderful! Wonderful to re-connect with friends from previous years. Wonderful to be in cool, damp, green Oregon. Wonderful to hear the keynote speaker this evening, Bill Meyers.

He spoke about God’s call: Who is God? he asked. And, who are we … from an eternal perspective? He reminded us we don’t have to be talented, smart, holy … what we have to be is available for God’s use.

He was funny, poignant, and spoke straight to the heart. Wow …

I drove past the salt flats west of Salt Lake City yesterday afternoon, and crossed the line (and time zone) into Nevada last night. Casinos to the max—rippling, bright lights on every building, all night long. Dumped my holding tanks this morning, showered, and ready to head into the wilds of Nevada, aiming at Oregon.

As I left the showers, I passed a gentleman holding two babies, five-and-a-half months old. “Giving mom a break,” he told me cheerfully. And then explained they’re in town for the funeral of their 10-year-old grandson, who accidentally shot himself this week. “In the midst of life, we are in death” says the Book of Common Prayer, going on to, “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

But I must add, in the midst of death, we are in life. He has the two babies; the trees are green; the sun is shining. God is still in control, in sorrow as well as in pleasure. And He gives eternal life.

I got out of bed this morning and promptly rolled my pillows into the quilt—quite distressing to Sallie, my dog, who always goes back to bed after breakfast. I showered and put nothing away, instead tucking shampoo, rinse, brush, and so forth into my shower caddy for the RV. Sallie knows the signs, and is now waiting by the front door, eager to leave.

After all, she has an important job when we travel! She is solely responsible for protecting us from fields of terrorist horses or cattle, monstrous bridge overpasses ready to bite down on us as we drive under them, and incredibly dangerous boxy vehicles on the highway. I’ll be out in an hour, heading for Green River, Utah, tonight.

My ultimate goal is the Oregon Christian Writers summer conference, in Canby, just outside Portland, Oregon. I’ll be home in two weeks. But I was wondering, as I unplugged my CPAP machine and set it by the door, ready to take out—am I as prepared to leave for my permanent home in heaven? Worth thinking about …

{1} Living and Learning in God’s World, co-written by me and Cathy Howe, is now available! This little volume presents early school skills—letter recognition, letter sounds, rhymes, opposites, telling stories, counting, numbers, money, and body parts—in a Bible setting (A is for Adam … Jacob saw the angels going up and down the ladder … the widow gave two coins worth about a penny each … ). Contact me for ordering information or to see a sample: elsidodge@RVTourist.com.

{2} I met with Wendy McMillan, a friend from Boulder Media Women and a Longmont (CO) kindergarten teacher, this morning. She and a co-worker are writing a children’s book on growing and preparing vegetables and other meals. It’s an exciting project, and she’s allowing me to help with editing and suchlike. Here’s Wendy’s description: Plot to Plate: Grow, Cook, Create is a nonfiction resource book and memory maker for children, their families and educators. A compilation of narrative, activities, and recipes, organized by season, Plot to Plate offers meaningful, clearly structured activities and extensions for use at school and home. Targeting children in the early primary years (approximately kindergarten through second grade), the book will also be valuable for older children, who can move on to develop their own extensions and carry out project and cooking activities with increasing independence.

{3} I leave Wednesday in the Meandering Moose, with Sallie and Dolphin, for the Oregon Christian Writers conference outside Portland. This is always a highpoint of my year—a chance to reconnect with friends and learn more about writing, not to mention showing my work to some editors.

I do hope your summer is going well!

It’s too hot to think, or focus, or concentrate in any way. So I’m pulling books off the shelf almost at random—and just, therefore, re-read Mrs. Miniver.

My teenaged self wrote on the flyleaf, “Ends better than it begins.” I’m not so sure of that, though I kept reading partly because I was thinking surely something will happen, sometime, won’t it? (It didn’t.) And partly because continuing to read it was easier than getting up in the heat and finding another book.

Ah, well … it’s supposed to be a nice, round 100° tomorrow.