"The world is as many times new as there are children in our lives." ~Robert Brault

Last night our doorbell rang, and this is what awaited us when we answered, with an enthusiastic, simultaneous greeting of "Trick-or-Treat!" 

 No, it isn't Halloween yet, but that didn't matter to the miniature sized Mickey and Minnie who came to visit last night.  And it didn't matter to us, either.  These two (and their parents) came to claim some candy, but what they gave far exceeded what they took with them.  These sweet bundles of smiles, giggles, cuddles, and energy made my day.


"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about."  ~Angela Schwindt

We can learn so much from the children in our lives!

Children teach us to live in the moment. 
From the time they arrived until they left, our early Halloween celebrators enjoyed every second.  I let them fill their own bags, and they were unreserved in taking all that they wanted.  They played with Buster, explored the house, pinged on the piano, played staring games with Mr. Jeff, and little Minnie Mouse ate candy . . . LOTS of it!  They didn't worry about the things that inhibit us as adults.  Minnie Mouse had no concerns at all about potential for weight gain and blood sugar spikes, nor did she consider that the large candy consumption might cause a tummy ache later on.  And while I would not recommend following her lead in that regard, wouldn't life be sweeter if we would stop and savor THIS moment?  Slow down and really enjoy that bite of candy, or the laughter in our home, or the staring games, or something as simple as petting the dog, instead of thinking ahead to the responsibilities or concerns that come tomorrow.  Or even later on today.  

Children teach us to slow down.   Last Sunday evening, some other little friends came over with their parents.  This family consists of parents, two boys, and a girl.  While the older brothers were doing what older brothers do, and the parents were busy with caring for all three, this sweet two-year-old precious was in her own little world.  She found my stuffed frog and some Jenga blocks, and retreated into her happy place where stuffed frogs build amazing structures, and carry on intelligent conversations, completely oblivious to brothers who are practicing karate moves nearby.  This little one had no cares at all about what would happen tomorrow, or even in the next minute, for that matter.  How long has it been since I slowed down to "play"?  That piano I mentioned earlier sits mostly untouched in my living room - except when little hands find their way there.  I took seven years of piano lessons while I was growing up, but I seldom find the time to sit down and play anymore.  Life gets in the way.  Maybe I need to slow down like my little friend, Etta, and not let life rob me of the simple pleasures.

Children teach us to forgive fully.  Last week, I got to spend some time playing with my little Mickey and Minnie friends.  It's been a very long time since I pitched a baseball, but Hollis wanted to bat, so I pitched . . . and did a pretty sorry job.  But he didn't care.  He would run after them, and hit them anyway.  And you know what?  He didn't even mention that last night.  And on a much larger scale,  how many times did I mess up in much bigger ways with my own kids while they were growing up, but they always forgave me.  I can remember times when I would apologize with tears in my eyes to those sweet, innocent children I often felt so ill-equipped to parent, and their response was always to lovingly put their little arms around me, and say, "It's ok, Mommy." They forgave. Completely.  Which means they gave me another chance, and didn't hold it against me, or bring it up later on.  How much better life would be if we could carry that kind of forgiveness into adulthood.

These are just a few things that immediately come to mind -- there are so many others that time and space prevent me from sharing here . . . But, I'm sure you can fill in those blanks.

As I step into this next phase of life as a Mimi, I'm thankful for sweet Lydia who will remind me vividly and often of the lessons of childhood.  And I'm thankful as well for all of my little friends who teach me so much, and who enrich my life in so many ways.  Walt Streightiff wrote, "There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million."  And Cathy Nutbrown rightly observed, "Pausing to listen to an airplane in the sky, stooping to watch a ladybug on a plant, sitting on a rock to watch the waves crash over the quayside — children have their own agendas and timescales. As they find out more about their world and their place in it, they work hard not to let adults hurry them. We need to hear their voices."  

So for today, live in the moment, slow down, and forgive fully.  Make friends of little ones.  They will teach you more than you will teach them, and they will remind you in vivid ways of what is truly important in life.  

"Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man." ~Rabindranath Tagore

"Becoming a grandmother is wonderful. One moment you’re just a mother. The next you are all-wise and prehistoric". ~Pam Brown

The text message from Ryan came at 3:50 am, and it simply said, "We're headed to the hospital.  Sarah's water just broke."  I immediately climbed out of bed and headed to the shower.  This was the moment we had been eagerly anticipating for months - Lydia's birth day had arrived!  I was about to be a Mimi!  Finally!!  And while I expected the excitement and joy I instantly felt, I was completely unprepared for the wave of emotions that enveloped me as I stepped into the shower.  My child - MY baby - was at that moment enduring the pain of childbirth.  MY baby was having a baby, and the tears began to flow.  I was reminded once again of something I've known since September 21, 1990 - my heart is so wrapped around the hearts of my children, that when they hurt, so do I.  Literally.

Jeff (aka Pappy) and I were soon packed and on our way to Houston, and Ryan continued to update us by text message as we traveled.  Things progressed rapidly, and as we were walking in the door of the hospital, we got the final message, "Welcome, Lydia Grace Renz!" with a photo of new mother and baby.  And the tears flowed again - tears of joy, excitement,... and relief.  I will never forget the first time I saw Lydia and held her in my arms, as Lydia's mother - my daughter - looked on with tears rolling down her face.

The past few weeks have been such a blessing, as I was able to stay in Houston to help out the new parents, and enjoy some very sweet Mimi moments.  I made a conscious effort to soak in every single Mimi experience - changing diapers, giving Lydia her first bath, kissing those sweet cheeks, and my very favorite Mimi/Lydia newborn time - rocking her, especially between the hours of midnight and 3 am, when it was just the two of us.  (In fact, the first night she slept after her midnight feeding and didn't need rocking, I was a little sad!  I think her parents thought Mimi was crazy!)

Bath time

Sweet baby snuggles

My precious midnight view

But as sweet as those Mimi/Lydia moments are, there are other experiences from the past few weeks that I treasure equally.  Rajneesh wrote, "The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." On September 21, 1990, Sarah was born into this world, and I was blessed to be able to be there on September 29, 2015 when her other birth occurred - Sarah was born into a mother.

I've watched in awe as my baby loves, cherishes, and gets to know her baby.  I've been taken back in time as I remember learning with Sarah (and Becca) the things she is now learning with Lydia - how to be a mother.  I must say, Lydia has been blessed with one of the best ever!  And now, the bond I have with Sarah is even stronger, as she truly KNOWS how I love her, because she loves Lydia the same way.  I've also observed the new love of a Pappy, an Aunt B, and an Uncle Caleb - all of which speaks volumes of the deep love of our family.  And I've smiled as I've watched Lydia's wonderful daddy, and the new love he is experiencing, which has reminded me of another new daddy and his twin girls 25 years ago.  How blessed we all are.

What a wonderful experience my past few weeks have been, as I have been introduced to a whole new love with sweet Lydia, and grown in love for Sarah - my daughter who is now a mother.  And it's only just begun!  I have had major separation anxiety since returning home, and I miss them both terribly.  I look forward to being with them again, but until that happens I will be thankful for this other blessing I just enjoyed . . . a Facetime call from Lydia and her mommy.

"Perfect love does not come until the first grandchild."  ~Welsh Proverb

"Life is always a rich and steady time when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch." ~E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

"What letter are you on?"  I've been hearing that question from family and friends over the past seven months or so.  As Sarah has been growing a baby, I have been stitching a blanket for that precious little one - an alphabet blanket.  Each square is cross-stitched with a letter of the alphabet and corresponding baby animal.  And each letter takes an average of fifteen hours to complete - some more, and some less.  

Once I finish the letters, I will add her name and birth date in the remaining two squares.  So once I've completed it, I will have spent over 400 hours of cross-stitching Lydia's blanket.  As you might guess, this blanket, along with the necessary stitching supplies, has become an extension of myself.  It has gone with me to doctor's office waiting rooms, traveled several times with me to Dallas, a few times to College Station, and it has also made a few trips with me to Houston.  Back in June, Lydia's blanket even went with me to Canada.  

I have stitched while watching old episodes of Gilmore Girls, several seasons of Downton Abbey, and many Texas Ranger's games.  I have also stitched while visiting with family and friends.  But most of my stitching time when I am alone has been spent in quiet meditation, as I think about the precious child that will soon be wrapped in this blanket.  

Those quiet, alone thoughts as my hands steadily stitch have led to hours of prayer for sweet Lydia.  I have prayed for her good health and safety as she grows and will soon make the transition from womb to world.   I have prayed for her heart - that she will always have a tender heart to godly instruction, and that she will grow up to be a blessing in this world and a strong force for God.  I've stitched while praying for her mama and daddy, as they are about to embark on the most important journey of their lives.  And I've prayed for myself and Jeff, and all of those who will love her and have an influence in her life - that we will all help to steer her toward God.  As all of us do, I know that Lydia will have difficult days and tests of her faith in this life - I have prayed about those times as well, that she will grow and learn from them, and always be full of faith, and joy.

"What letter are you on?"  If you ask me that question today, I will tell you "X."  And as I complete these last few letters, Sarah is completing her last few weeks of nurturing Lydia inside of her womb.  The blanket will soon be finished, and Lydia will soon arrive in this world, but the prayers will continue.  

I've been told by others who have already crossed into the life of grandparent-hood that nothing compares, and it is truly indescribable - I cannot wait to experience those feelings first-hand, to hold sweet Lydia in my arms, and to make lots of fun memories with her as she grows.  And with her birth just weeks away, my excitement and anticipation grows with each passing day.

I better get busy - I have about 50 hours of stitching (and praying) to go.

"If a friend is in trouble, don’t annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it." ~Edgar Watson Howe

"Only Luke is with me."  These are the words penned by the Apostle Paul to Timothy (2 Tim. 4:11), as Paul wrote to the young evangelist from a Roman prison.  It was the last of Paul's letters.  Although we have no inspired record of Paul's death, most historians agree that he was beheaded in Rome in the mid-60's - shortly after writing this letter.

Last words are always important.  And as I read the end of 2 Timothy, especially verses 9 through 22, Paul's reflective thoughts are moving.  Especially that short sentence mentioning Luke - "Only Luke is with me."  

Our Wednesday evening study in Acts last night turned my thoughts to Luke.  As we began chapter 27, that little pronoun "we" appeared again.  As the writer of Acts, Luke tells us when he is involved in the action by using that simple indicator.

Paul was a prisoner, and was being sent with other prisoners to Rome.  It was curious to me that Luke was joining him - why would the Roman authorities even allow Luke to accompany Paul under these circumstances?  From my reading, it appears that it was unheard of in this age for a prisoner to be allowed to have companions, and I found only two ways that the Roman authorities would have permitted this - either Luke (and Aristarchus, who also accompanied Paul to Rome) would have to take the position as Paul's slaves, or Festus (the procurator before whom Paul had his final hearing in Acts 25) allowed it, believing in Paul's innocence, and thinking that by showing kindness to Paul, Caesar would look favorably upon Festus.

Regardless of why it was allowed, to me the more pressing question is why would Luke WANT to accompany a band of prisoners on a dangerous voyage by ship?  I think the answer to that is found in Paul's statement of 2 Timothy 4:11 - "Only Luke is with me."  Those five words speak volumes.  As Paul concludes his letter to the Colossians, he mentions Luke in verse 14 as sending greetings, along with Demas.  Likewise, in Paul's letter to Philemon (vs 24), he sends greetings from Mark, Aristarchus, Demas, and Luke. But by the time we get to the end of Paul's last letter, we learn that Demas had forsaken Paul, going back to the ways of the world.  Others had traveled to various areas, likely to preach the gospel, and that "Only Luke is with me."

There's a lot we can say about Luke.  Luke is the only gospel writer to give us the account of the birth of John the Baptist, as well as the birth and early life of Jesus.  Only in Luke's gospel can we read the life-changing parables Jesus taught of the Good Samaritan, the rich fool, and the wonderful trio of lost and found - the lost sheep, lost coin, and prodigal son.  Without Luke, we wouldn't know about the rich man and Lazarus, nor would we have insight into the conversation Jesus had with the thief on the cross.

But what I want to focus on here is that Luke was Paul's constant friend.  He could be counted on.  He would not leave, no matter what life brought.  He was willing and eager to go through the storms of life to love and support his friend, even at his own peril.

I hope you have a friend like Luke.  I am blessed with several.  But more important than having that kind of friend, I need to ask myself am I that kind of friend to others?  Can I be counted on?  Do others look at me as someone they can call on to help them weather the storms of life?  When one of my friends is in a bind, are they immediately comfortable dialing my number, or do they hesitate?  When asked if I would accompany them through a difficult journey, perhaps putting myself in peril, would my friends automatically think of me as the friend who would do that for them?

I've written a lot lately about our relationships with one another - being kind, understanding, looking beneath the surface, building relationships, and opening ourselves up to others.  As I continue to think about that, and strive to grow in those areas, I now add another dimension.  I want to be a Luke, don't you?  I can think of no greater compliment or blessing than to have just one person say, "Only Tracy is with me."

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." ~Henri Nouwen

"Sometimes I think it should be a rule of war that you have to see somebody up close and get to know him before you can shoot him." ~M*A*S*H, Colonel Potter

The feeder hangs in front of our kitchen window, and I watch them in awe every time we sit down at the table to eat.  The hummingbirds.  Our feeder has four holes - it is quite capable of serving four hummingbirds at any given time.  And yet, they fight.  Sometimes they spend so much time trying to keep each other away from the feeder, that it appears they actually feed very little.

This behavior fascinates me, so I did some reading about hummingbirds.  As observed, hummingbirds are not very social at all - they live very solitary lives, coming together only to mate.  Their mating ritual typically takes four seconds, after which the female will build a nest to care for her young, while the male leaves to pursue other interests.  Hummingbirds are very aggressive, and will fight each other to protect their "territory."  Female hummingbirds will become quite aggressive toward any male who approaches her nest.

Solitary.  Alone.  And while God created them this way for a purpose, from a human perspective, it is quite sad.  When we are sitting at our kitchen table observing their aggressiveness toward each other, I often say to Jeff, "Why can't they just get along?"

In stark contrast to our backyard hummingbird friends, we have two other feeders that contain birdseed, and these feeders are frequented by several Red Cardinals.  These birds behave quite differently - sometimes we will see three or more birds perched on one feeder, sharing a meal together.

Further reading on Cardinals was fascinating as well.  I learned that Cardinal pairs mate for life, and stay together year-round.  During their courtship, the male will bring food to the female and feed her beak to beak.  After mating, this feeding ritual often continues while the eggs are in the nest.  Cardinal couples sometimes sing together before nesting, and when building the nest, they also work together - the male will bring materials to the female, and she will do most of the building.  As many as four broods can be raised each year, with the male caring for and feeding the young offspring as the female incubates the next brood.

Which bird am I more like?  I have to admit, sometimes it's easier to be a hummingbird - to retreat into my own little world, to be combative, to protect my "territory," and to always be looking at others with a skeptical eye, wondering what they are after.  But being a Cardinal is so much more rewarding.  Yes, it comes with risks - I can be rejected or get hurt, or even be taken advantage of.  But I will also enjoy rich relationships, as my life is filled with other people and their love.

Being a cardinal takes time and effort.  I like the quote that I used as the title of this blog entry - isn't it true that it's a lot easier to "shoot" someone that we don't "see up close" or "get to know"?  We often criticize or judge someone when we have no idea what is going on in their world.  We dart around in attack mode, assigning motives, perhaps thinking they are out to get us, when in reality they are just trying to survive like we all are.

My last several entries here have been about relationships, and I continue to write about that because it is so important.  We can't be hummingbirds and be pleasing to God.  If my research is correct, there are 59 "one another" passages in the New Testament.  Here's a small sampling:

“…Be at peace with each other.” (Mark 9:50)

 “…Wash one another’s feet.” (John 13:14)

 “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love…” (Romans 12:10)

“…Honor one another above yourselves. (Romans 12:10)

“Live in harmony with one another…” (Romans 12:16)

“…Love one another…” (Romans 13:8)

“…Stop passing judgment on one another.” (Romans 14:13)

“Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you…” (Romans 15:7)

“…Instruct one another.” (Romans 15:14)

“Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” (Ephesians 5:21)

“…In humility consider others better than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

And repeatedly in the Gospel of John and the first Epistle of John, the phrase "love one another" is used.  Over and over again.  I cannot do this if my focus is solely on myself.

Be a cardinal.  Interact with others.  Welcome someone into your "nest."  Sing.  Share a meal.  Get to know others, especially in your church family - I mean REALLY get to know them.  You will be blessed, and God will be pleased.  

"When you can be the sunshine in someone's life, or the warm rain, why would you be the cold north wind?" ~Robert Brault

Last week was special.  Jeff was in Missouri for the FC summer camp there, Ryan was playing in the Tyler golf tournament with his dad, and those two events coincided to give me the pleasure of spending the week alone with my firstborn child, who is currently 30 weeks pregnant with HER first child.  During Sarah's time here, I was blessed with several priceless moments of placing my hands on her growing belly, and feeling Lydia move, tumble, and kick.  There's a life growing inside of Sarah.  My granddaughter. Lydia is growing and moving, and while we can feel that from the outside, we cannot SEE any of it.  Yes, Sarah has had a few ultrasounds, and as a result, we know that Lydia is a girl, and have seen images of her form.  But things like her hair color and eye color, and her family resemblances remain a mystery for now.  There's a lot going on in there that we just cannot see in spite of Sarah's expanding waistline.

Sarah and Ryan left, and Jeff returned home from camp with a sore, swollen and bruised arm.  If you know Jeff, you know of his love for volleyball.  Apparently, he did not hold back during the annual counselor/camper game, as he sacrificed his body to save a ball from going out (plowing over a kid in the process - my apologies to that boy's parents!).  Jeff landed awkwardly on that arm, and it has continued to cause him trouble for almost a week now.  And while we could see some evidence of damage on the outside - bruising, swelling, and a few scabs - we could not see what was happening inside his arm.  He could feel the pain, but I only knew of that by what he told me, or as I saw him grimace.  So, yesterday afternoon, he went for an x-ray.  Fortunately, he doesn't have any broken bones, just soft tissue damage.  But it took that special view to the inside in order to know that for sure. *(UPDATE:  After the radiologist read the x-ray this morning, it appears he has a radial fracture after all - sometimes it takes a REALLY close, professional look inside!)

Just like Jeff saw the inside of his arm yesterday, I saw some of my insides, too.  I had a barium swallow test, which involved drinking and eating barium-laden beverage and food items of varying consistencies while some health-care professionals watched those tasty morsels travel through my mouth, down my throat, and into my stomach.  They let me see those images as well.  Fascinating stuff!  I don't know about you, but when I eat, I think very little about the food once it leaves my mouth.  But it continues its journey, traveling through my body sight unseen.  Only as I have trouble with that process must I investigate further, looking beneath the surface.

Yesterday, as I sat in the admitting office of Trinity Mother Frances Hospital registering for that test, I saw this sign on the desk of the lady who was signing me in . . .

Inside battles.  Quiet suffering.  Unseen struggles.  We've all been there.  The hidden, hard things that no one knows about.  Perhaps it's disease.  Or loneliness.  A struggle with temptation, or maybe a difficult friend or family member.  And like the functioning parts inside of our bodies, we often do not know of the struggles of others because we are not able to see inside. 

It took time, effort and money to see inside of Sarah's womb, Jeff's arm, and my digestive tract.  But we did those things, because it was important to know what was going on in there.  Maybe I need to make that same kind of time, effort, and expense to look inside of others to help them with internal struggles.  If I am perceptive enough to notice the "bruises" and "grimaces," maybe I will look a little deeper.  

That starts with building relationships.  Quit looking at your phone, get off of Facebook, and get to know people.  Be more inclusive.  Yes, I have my friends, and you have yours, but am I actively getting to know people - especially in my local spiritual family - so that I can encourage and help with the things that are hurting them on the inside?  And not just helping with the hurts, but encouraging their growth as I celebrate their successes.  Do I interact with people of all ages, seeking to know them - REALLY know them?

I have heard from several people of various ages in different stages of life over the past few months that they often feel left out.  Lonely.  Am I contributing to those feelings in them?  Or am I seeking to be kind to everyone as I try to be part of the healing and not the hurt?  If I have a close-knit family living in the same town, do I actively seek to include those who may not enjoy that blessing?  If I have close friends in the same location, do I seek to broaden that circle by inviting others who might be lonely to share in those fun times?  Do people feel welcomed in my presence?  Is my home an open place where people feel comfortable?  I think most of us do not intentionally leave people out - we just don't think!  We don't look for those bruises and scabs that might clue us in that a tough battle might be brewing inside.  

I like what George Washington Carver wrote:  "How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in your life you will have been all of these."  You see, we will all be there at some point in life.  And I hope when I am, that you will be perceptive enough to look inside of me with kindness, as you seek to help me fight my battle.  I'll work harder at doing the same for you.  We are all in this together - let's apply Ephesians 4:32 in every relationship in life!  I have no doubt we will be blessed as we look deeply inside of each other to recognize those battles and seek to help.  

Be kind.  Be perceptive.  Be open and friendly.  Be inclusive.  Look deeply beneath the surface.  Let's all be someone who helps and heals.

"Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again." ~Og Mandino

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you’ve been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.” – Dave Barry

Jeff and I recently enjoyed a vacation to beautiful Victoria and Vancouver, British Columbia.  One of the highlights of our trip was going on a three-hour whale watching tour.  The day that we went out onto the ocean, two separate whale pods came together, and we were able to enjoy observing 40 or so Orca whales (also known as killer whales) play and socialize with each other.  It was amazing to watch, and reminded me of what the Psalmist wrote in Psalm 104:26 - "There the ships move along, and Leviathan, which You have formed to sport in it."  

 We saw these magnificent creatures come to the surface to breathe, and listened to them exhale explosively through their blowholes.  We watched them jump, twisting their enormous bodies - that can grow up to 32 feet long, weighing as much as 6 tons - coming down with a spectacular splash.  We saw a mama and her baby swimming together, as the little one stuck closely to its parent.  It was truly awe-inspiring.



But what was even more intriguing to me is what goes on below the surface.  Most of the time, whales and other sea creatures go about their lives in secret, and those of us who never dive into those depths do not get to see their lives below - we only catch the rare glimpses of their brief, occasional appearances above the surface.

But below the surface, there is a very rich world . . .

Orcas are very family-oriented, social creatures.  The calves nurse for about a year, and stay with their mothers for several years.  They interact closely beneath the surface, and I have read that when two Orcas get into some kind of conflict, they "make up" afterward.  It has been observed in those situations where one of the fighting whales will actually pat the other one with a fin when the fight is over, as if to say, "I'm sorry."  (Or maybe, "I forgive you.")

The captain of our tour told us several fascinating stories - - like the young Orca they discovered with "rake" marks on its body.  The marine experts determined these marks to be caused by the teeth of other Orcas.  Why would they scrape their teeth across a baby?  According to the experts, it was because they were trying to save its life.  Apparently, the mother whale encountered distress during the labor process, and she called out for help.  Other female Orcas came to her aid, literally pulling the baby whale out of her in a successful effort to save the lives of both the mother and baby.  Whale midwives, if you will.  Amazing.

And speaking of whales "calling out," did you know that whales vocalize?  Their communication is quite sophisticated.  At several points during our tour, the guides on our boat would drop microphones down into the water, and we would listen in as these great sea creatures produced all sorts of various sounds.  They were "talking" to each other.  Studies have also shown that different pods of whales have different dialects, and they "learn" to talk from their parents.  Fascinating stuff!

But for the most part, all we ever see is what goes on above the surface.  And like the quote I used as the title states, that is much like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.

Beneath the surface.  That phrase can apply to the world on dry land as well.

Earlier this year, I participated in a Bible study with some young women.  The focus of those lessons was on being genuine, and the problem we face in our world today with lacking sincerity and depth, and wearing plastic smiles.  We often don't say what we mean, or mean what we say.  It's easy to do that.  It's easy to fall into a pattern of doing the same things superficially day after day.  But what a waste.  So much abundance can be found below the surface - - By focusing there, we can have such rich lives.  

It begins with our time with God.  Am I a "superficial Christian," only opening the Word or praying to Him when I'm "at church"?  Or do I dive deeply into my relationship with God each day by spending focused time with him in Bible study and prayer?  As Paul stated in Romans 11:33, "Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!"  If I'm not diving to those depths, I am missing out.  A superficial relationship with my Lord is really no relationship at all.

But diving below the surface also includes involvement with others.  Do I spend focused time each day with my family, seeking to truly know them?  Or do we simply live superficially in the same house?  The same applies to extended family, friends, and brethren.  Do I strive to stay connected with the people I love?  When I do have conflict in my  relationships, do I seek resolution?  Do I give a pat with my "fin," and say, "I'm sorry," or "I forgive you?"  

And what about my church family?  Am I seeking to go below the surface with them?  Do I really try to get down deep in those relationships so I can KNOW them, or am I content to just scratch the surface with foyer pleasantries three times a week?  

Do I spend more time on Facebook or texting than I do with actual, breathing human beings?  Am I available and listening for those who might be calling out in distress?  Am I searching for ways to alleviate suffering in the lives of others?

Wendelin Van Draanen wrote, "...the sad fact is, most people don't look beneath the surface until it's too late.”  I don't want to make that mistake.

I learned some lessons from those whales.  Reminders about focus, and communication, and building and maintaining relationships.  It's easy to just live on the surface.  It takes more effort to dive a little deeper.  Effort that is well worth it, in every aspect of life.