Slapping the Gracious Hand

    In my ongoing summer quest to make myself feel better by studying books of the Bible where worse things are happening than in my life, I have finished Ezra and am now in Nehemiah. I felt sorry for Ezra. After all his hard work getting to Jerusalem, Ezra's reward was finding his people singing  the same sinful song, second verse. Ezra felt the gracious hand of the Lord in the rebuilding of the Jerusalem temple in many ways:

1. God moved a Gentile king, Cyrus, to decree the rebuilding of the temple.
2. For good measure, Cyrus threw in the plunder originally removed from the temple.
3. God moved the Jews who remained in exile to donate to the rebuilding.
4. God gave priests, Levites and temple servants the desire to return to ruined Israel.
5. The altar was rebuilt quickly.
6. Which allowed the Jews to finally be able to worship through sacrifices.
7. When enemies opposed their efforts, Darius not only confirmed Cyrus's decree, but issued his own and made the opposition fund it. That would be like Planned Parenthood forced to pay support to Focus on the Family.
8. Ezra arrives with Artaxerxes letter of authority, making king support 3 out of 3.
9. Made the journey in only 4 months. Not great by today's standards, even airline luggage arrives faster than that.
10. Made the journey with temple treasure through bandit-filled land without military protection.

And after all that:

   Ezra finds out the exiles have not only returned to Israel, but to the sin that got them exiled in the first place--intermarriage with the surrounding idolaters. The rest of the book tells how the whole mess got straightened out, but not before the offenders names got written down--FOR ALL ETERNITY.

     Meanwhile back in Persia, Nehemiah feels God's call to rebuild Jerusalem's walls. God was gracious enough to:

1. Help the king not to misunderstand why his royal food taster looked unhappy.
2. Got king's permission to return to Jerusalem to rebuild walls.
3. Found multitaskers skilled in both wall building and swordsmanship,
4. willing to work for free,
5. remain armed even at the water cooler,
6. and pull guard duty after hours.
7. Caused opposition to give up when they see the Jews are armed. Probably with assault swords.

And after all that:

   Nehemiah finds out returned exiles are robbing fellow Jews of the inherited lands they just got back to, and making slaves of their children through usurious lending. Like payday loans only with a "surrender your offspring" clause. The rest of the book explains how Nehemiah, with the help of Ezra and the Law, got the returned exiles back on track.

And after all that. . . I do feel better about my puny problems.

Remarkable, Ordinary Jean

     When you examine them closely, it is the ordinary lives that are most remarkable. I have been thinking, of course, of Jean, who died a few days ago. I was Jean's home health aide for five years and friend for five after that. Jean was a good hearted soul, but her upbeat attitude and childlike enthusiasm did not come from an easy life. Her father died suddenly when she was 11 leaving a mother, who had never worked outside the home, with two daughters to raise alone. Jean married at 18, had her first child at age 20 and another daughter and son after that. As her children grew older, she worked hard at a tire factory to earn enough income to divorce her abusive husband. At the time, divorce carried a stigma, especially since she went to the Catholic church. Jean's second husband was a wonderful man who died suddenly, leaving his estate to the children of his first marriage. So Jean started over, this time working at a nursing home, often double shifts. Her third husband was an alcoholic who took her rambling across the country until they divorced when she came to Montana and he went to prison for check fraud.
     By the time I came into Jean's life she had recovered from the worst of the depression and anxiety. She may have been "done with men", but she was not done with life. She loved good food. That was actually the first question she asked when the office suggested me as her caregiver, "Ask her if she can cook." I assured her I was a good cook and I had many chances to prove it over the years. I love to cook and getting paid to do so was like earning double time to me. I cooked the way she used to for her family--fried chicken, pies, cakes and other things not good for her diabetes. Jean also loved shopping, which is why her money was gone the day she cashed the check. It never occurred to her to save her spending money for later in the week or her EBT credit, formerly called food stamps, for later in the month. Jean was the impulse buying queen. If she saw it, she wanted it and, if she could possibly afford it, she bought it. Finding a place to put it in her one bedroom apartment was up to us, her aides. Jean would buy a 20 lb. bag of potatoes at Costco one month, give or throw away half of them, and buy another 20 lb. bag the next month because that was her way of doing things.
     Jean also loved going for drives and some of my best memories of our time together are on those drives. Jean does not have as many good memories as I do, because my magical sleeping car caused her to drop off instantly, sometimes before we got out of town. Then she would straighten up and make a comment as if she had never been asleep. I drove her to Bigfork and Whitefish and she drove me crazy, sometimes. . . in the way people who love each other do. Another thing Jean loved was Montana and she got her wish to die, and be buried, here. Her daughter and I were holding her hands as she drew her last breath and her remains will become part of the land she loved.
     Our friendship also remains, because believers are never parted for long. Jean's hard life made her better instead of bitter. And in that remarkably ordinary gift that is friendship, she made mine better too.

. . . But in Real Life

     My husband and I recently went to the new Tarzan movie even though I had warned him it was a chick flick. My sister told me that for most of the movie, the star is not wearing a shirt. Apparently Reed did not find that too much of a deterrent and I certainly didn't. In one particularly dramatic scene, the ripped, shirtless hero hears captured Jane calling for help and throws himself blindly off a cliff to rescue her. Tarzan, knowing the jungle and its endless supply of vines to swing on, considers it a mere shortcut. In real life, of course, that would be suicidally stupid. Also in real life, most people seldom need to be rescued--
     Except for the Sunday I handed out invitations to our neighborhood ice cream social. I hand deliver the invitations so I can meet new neighbors and visit with old ones. Besides, that  personal touch makes people more likely to come. I asked Reed to go with me to deliver one at an old farm house down the street because it sets farther off the road and I no longer knew who lived there. The last occupant I knew of was a man I called "Slow Bob", referring to his driving speed, not his intellect. When he drove, he tried to make up in slow what he lacked in sobriety. This year a woman with two quarreling dogs answered the door. The barking slipper dog was annoying, but the Lab cross was somewhat aggressive and definitely disobedient. I handed the woman an invitation while trying to subtly back away from the Lab, but I couldn't back far because my husband was blocking the doorway. He was afraid the stranger's obnoxious little dog would get out. Even though the Lab had been tormenting its tiny playmate when we arrived, I got the feeling he didn't like anyone else doing that and the mini-mongrel at Reed's feet was squealing like a stuck pig. He managed to hand the dog back to its owner without getting bit, but not for lack of effort on the dog's part.

Tarzan: In a flashback to their first meeting, the hero throws himself between Jane and a rampaging gorilla.
In Real life:  My husband, who has known me a long time, traps me between an angry dog and the door.

     Now that the little dog was not in danger (of getting out), Reed moved out of the doorway, but the Lab was following us and barking loud enough to drown out his owner's commands to come. At that point my heroic hubby turned around and walked back to the car. I did not. I have made it a practice not to turn my back on an aggressive dog. I've found dogs that are aggressive to your face are even bolder when your back is turned. But then my husband didn't need to worry about that because, once again, I was between him and the angry dog.

Tarzan:  Husband of 8 years risks death a dozen times in desperate attempts to rescue Jane,
In Real Life:  Husband of 39 years whisks back to the car while I attempt to escape unaided and unbitten.

     I slowly made my way to the safety of the car, very unhappy with the pooch and not too thrilled with my protector.

Tarzan:  In the final scene, John looks at Jane as if he desires every inch of her skin, every stand of her hair
In Real life:  I am thankful Reed doesn't notice how many more inches of skin there are to desire or the gray root at end of those strands of hair.

     That is the problem with real life--no scripts, no choreography, no retakes. Here are some real life examples from people I know.

In Real life:  Wife is inside thoughtfully making coffee for her husband, blissfully unaware that he had fallen off  the roof and broken his hip. After she finally noticed why the dog was barking and called 911, faithful Rusty did his best to protect his master from the emergency responders who came to help. Another woman, whose husband is an emergency responder, yelled for help for 20 minutes before her spouse noticed his wife was taking a long time to get her coat. That was because she fallen five feet onto the cement floor of their crawl space.
     Yes I would like my husband to notice when I need help, but the rest of the time I don't want him looking that closely. If he did, he might notice that his favorite femme fatale is just another flabby female. In real life we don't have soft lighting and makeup artists. No vines to grab when you are falling. Six packs are in the refrigerator, not on your abs. But in real life, I know my husband loves me and I am sure he would take a bullet for me. . . unless he was looking at his phone. . .or didn't notice. . .or the shooter had a dog.