A Touch of Life

The touch…the feel…the fabric of our lives. It’s from a cotton commercial, but it sort of encapsulates the human experience. Without touch, what meaning would our lives have? To love someone but not be able to demonstrate it through touch. To not be able to show a mother’s or father’s pride in a child who has just done something amazing for the first time, through a squeezy hug. No more “let’s join hands” at church, let alone “laying on of hands.” No more petting one’s dog or patting him on the head.

Without touch, parents could not care for their children. In fact, touch is so important that the lack of it can even be fatal. Our hands have abiding in them the power to comfort, to encourage, to heal broken hearts. God gave us touch as an extension—a demonstration—of His very nature. Jesus, when He was on the earth, touched the little children with hands of blessing. He touched those who needed healing. And in an act of humble love and servanthood, he washed his disciples’ feet.

When we are scared, we need a hand to hold. When we are excited, we need a friend to share an embrace with. When we are sad, we need a shoulder to cry on and maybe a hand to rub our back. The need for touch is programmed into us—it’s like water to a flower—it brings life. It can prevent wilting. It can snap us back to health. It can make all the difference.

Some of us have a lower need for physical touch than others, and some have been wounded by the touch of others—that touch was abusive and was never what God intended. But touch is still important, even if we might want to avoid it, or even fear it at times. Touch is the vehicle God chose for imparting blessing. It is a picture of His love for us as we cradle a baby, bandage a knee, hold a toddler on our hip.

In the New Testament, the Greek word for “touch” is haptomai, which means “to attach oneself to.” It extends beyond the physical touch to encompass fellowship and the connection of ongoing relationship. Touch, whether of the physical or of the heart, is a vehicle of attaching ourselves to other people. God made us to be “touchers,” to be relational. It is a gift of hope and assurance—that we belong; we are “attached” to God and to others. He has given us the Body as an anchor and a blueprint of our life in Christ. And how can a body be truly connected without touch?

The wispy touch of a feather on your cheek. The trickle of a hot shower’s water down your back. The gentle, sometimes tentative grasp of a small child’s hand. The adoring clasp of an older woman’s hands over ours—accompanied by sweet wisdom and encouraging affirmations. These are the experiences, the moments, the opportunities that allow us to truly live. The individual pieces of an intricately woven life—a life that is made to touch, and be touched—and thereby strengthen and ornament the fabric God is fashioning of our lives.

The Day the Goats Took Over the Farm

The Day the Goats Took Over the Farm

One day my Pa and I went into town
To pick up some supplies.
But when we got back home,
Boy, were we surprised.
The cows were all dressed in fine gowns
And dancing around the meadow.
The chickens were doing gymnastice
The goose was singing falsetto.
The horse was doing tap-dance
While the pigs kept beat with their snouts.
The sheep were beating drums
And the mule was wearing shorts!
"How did this ruckus get started?" we wondered.
Well much to our alarm
We found the bearded culprits. What a day
When the goats took over the farm.

The Mind's Nose

Smell—it takes us back. In my mind’s nose (for lack of a better term), I can smell the halls and classrooms of my first-grade school, Siuslaw Elementary. Back then, the smell was a bit scary, like giant crayons and mimeograph monsters closing in on me. I was six years old, and it was my first school experience. I was timid and tiny, looking for anything that would bring a bit of comfort to my nervous little heart. After a while, the smell of paste did become a comfort—partly because I liked the aroma, and partly (I suppose) because it meant we were probably doing some sort of art project, which I loved. Now when my smell memory takes me back to that long hallway, I don’t recall it with trepidation—it evokes in me an appreciation for all that is good and magical about school as a young learner.

Certainly, we can recall smells that were bad—those that evoke unpleasant memories. But I’d like to believe that we tend to focus most on those that bring us joy and make us smile. Like the smell of the punch and doughnuts they always served after church when I was a young Sunday School-goer at the Florence Evangelical Church. I would hurry downstairs, along with other anxious youth trying not to knock over any blue- or pink-haired old ladies who were descending carefully into the fellowship hall. Laced with coffee overtones, I could smell those doughnuts—they were the biggest and fluffiest I had ever seen. It was almost as if these doughnuts existed just for my church’s fellowship time. The sugary sweetness clung to my fingers and bid me to eat just one more. And I would chase it down with red punch.

My Aunt Lorraine’s house always smelled a bit like a woodsy mixture of home-baked goodies and talcum powder. It was a smell that said “settle in, and you’ll be taken care of.” Pleasant and comforting. It wasn’t like a “new house” smell. This was an established, homestead-like smell—one that conveyed stability and longsuffering, mixed with charm and savory spices.

Smell connects us to our past, and it can also be a builder of the future. Flowers that you just love the smell of, so you always keep them growing around your home. Then your children, your grandchildren experience the delightful fragrance of those flowers—and smell-memory connections are made.

Without smell, we wouldn’t have the sensation of taste. Food would be bland. We wouldn’t get to smell our wife’s or husband’s familiar scent. We wouldn’t know the pervasive essence of a tree-enclosed creek on the breeze. Life just wouldn’t have the zest and virility it was meant to have.

Thank the Lord that he gave us the ability to smell. The Bible even says we are a smell—2 Corinthians 2:15 – “For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.” In fact, there are at least 45 Scripture verses that have to do with smell…from blossoms…to incense…to the cedars of Lebanon. Smell is important to God.

My mom always used to say, “People need to stop and smell the roses.” She meant that we need to experience the simple blessings God has given us, take notice of the beauty around us, and purpose to find something wonderful in each day.

Go forth, and smell with gusto!

Kitchen Comforts

My mom’s kitchen

A place of cozy clutter

Dishes prepared with love No recipes—just a little of this and a little of that Robust smells—Spanish rice, spaghetti, potato salad A welcome location for laughter Haven of the heart

My aunt’s kitchen Eggs on the counter Homemade berry preserves Apple pie—perfectly mellow and luscious Comforting fare—stack of bread, cole slaw, chicken n’ dumplings Crossroads of deep thought and tender mercies Berth of blessing

My grandma’s kitchen Small, neat, and orderly Friendly jar with oatmeal cookies Ordinary provisions—tuna sandwiches, American cheese, dill pickles Humble pocket of generosity Corner of kindness

My friend’s kitchen Long-handled spoons in a crock Designated drawers and domains Simple pleasures—limes, salsa, full-bodied coffee Concourse of magnanimous mirth Station of solace

My daughter’s kitchen Compact, colorful, welcoming Clean dishes air drying Delightful dishes—always something new to try, sweet, crunchy, varied Grateful nook of homespun bliss Hamlet of hospitality

My kitchen Crowded workspace Country cottage décor Mom’s specialties—wraps, Chicken Monterey, alfredo Accommodation of spontaneous snacks and stories Hub of curious conversation

Taste and See

What an incredibly complex gift taste is. Taste is what causes a baby to spit out a new food or open its mouth for more. A good taste can be enhanced, but a bad taste cannot be disguised. Some can detect the very slightest nuances in flavor on their tongues. And many make a living off this skill.

Taste causes us to crave certain combinations of flavors and foods. Our memory is wired to recall tastes we’ve experienced—and we salivate at the recollection of certain “trigger” foods.

Even with our most articulate, colorful vocabulary—there are some tastes that just can’t be described. I believe it’s that way with God. Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see that the LORD is good;” We know He is good, and we marvel at His goodness, yet we can’t even begin to describe the extent and flavor, if you will, of that goodness.

Psalm 119:103 declares of the Lord, “How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” There is a sweetness about God that is to be savored—and even His words have a taste!

According to Matthew 6:28, even death has a taste. “"Truly I say to you, there are some of those who are standing here who will not taste death until they see the Son of Man coming in His kingdom." But for those of us who are in Christ, even that taste doesn’t have to be a bad one.

The way the cheese oozes out of a grilled Velveeta sandwich and begins to soak into the golden-toasted bread…it’s a taste that speaks to me of childhood, of safety, of comfort—just how it does that I can’t fully explain.

But I know that God designed it that way—He designed us to experience the world around us wholeheartedly—with our senses. To taste and see His goodness through His creation. “For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities--his eternal power and divine nature--have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” Taste doesn’t just happen—it’s a process of creation—a little of this and a little of that; the perfect temperature; cooked to the perfect color and texture…we are born to create taste; our Creator is the author of it, and we are made in His image.

Tasting—and the connection taste has with our past experiences—I believe is part of the life “to the full” that John 10:10 talks about. Sometimes we get a bad taste in our mouth for life. We don’t truly savor it—we’re in survival mode. We don’t take the time to enjoy the blessings God has granted us. We focus on the negative. We’re in a “taste rut,” as it were. Everything is bland, blah, non-satisfying.

But if our relationship with Christ is primary—if we truly abide in Him, I believe we will taste life in a new way. Not only in the natural, but our spiritual sense of taste will come alive—and we will know new dimensions of the goodness of God. We will “taste and see.” When God is our regular portion, we will also begin to see anew. One sense is connected with another in a fuller, more rewarding experience. So it is with God. All that He has for us can only be tasted—sampled really—in this life; but who wouldn’t want to go to such a dinner party?

What About Cats?

A cat is like a person, with grandiose demands

Who tends to make a fuss when things don’t go as planned.

A cat is territorial and likes to run the show.

He’ll hiss in warning protest at felines he doesn’t know.

Cats are natural roamers; they like to go where they choose,

And they’ll flop down on the darnedest things like backpacks, bags, or shoes.

Cats can be affectionate—they’ll curl up in your lap

And proceed to go to sleep, ‘cause all cats like to nap.

A cat is a slob in some ways, just shedding and lazing around—

And don’t forget coughing up hairballs—oh, what a hideous sound.

Still, cats can be great mousers, and catch spiders in a jiffy.

But they won’t perform on command—so pest control can be iffy.

A cat likes to eat—does it ever—and contrary to popular claim,

It doesn’t self-regulate intake—it will eat till its size brings you shame.

A cat has primarily two settings, namely “Love me!” or “Leave me alone.”

She’s not a trained pet or best friend-like and doesn’t go nuts for a bone.

A cat is a crazy conundrum—self-centered yet full of concern.

When you’re sick, a cat might stay close by you until your health takes a good turn.

They can sense how you’re feeling, and sometimes, they appear to even mimic.

At times you may swear they know English and that keeping it secret’s their gimmick.

Some cats like to be cuddled, some hate it—and they’ll sure let you know right away.

Some get happy—some glare at your “foolishness”—whenever you try to play.

Taking a cat for a walk may seem wise, but just trust me—forsake it.

To a feline, a leash feels like torture; it’ll meow like you’ve just shaved it naked.

A cat is magnetic but moody—there’s something that draws us in.

Perhaps their hypnotic tail-swaying or the way that they nuzzle our chin.

It’s a mystery just why we adore them—could it be those “Puss in Boots” eyes—

Or maybe their confident assumption that the arm of the chair’s just their size?

If you think that a cat sounds endearing, you first must know—one thing is true—

You don’t own a cat—it’s too clever; the truth is… the feline owns you.

What About Bathtubs?

Bathtubs can be small, compact.

They may be round or square,

Or oval or rectangular,

Or have an odd-shaped flair.

They can be large enough for two

Or even for a gathering!

Some come with jets for bubbles,

A trick that helps with lathering.

Some like a tub with claw feet

And rustic, calming charm.

And some like built-in ledges

On which to rest one’s arm.

Some favor a colorful bathtub,

Like pink, or orange, or blue.

Some like tubs deep, others shallow.

They’re at their best brand new.

A bathtub, like an armchair,

Should be comfortable and cozy—

A place one can escape to

When life seems less than rosy.

President Taft had a bathtub built

(His other was too puny)—

Seven feet long, 41 inches wide;

Prob’ly soaked till his skin turned pruny.

In the olden days, a big washtub

Was all that most folks got.

A bar of soap, a scrubby rag—

No, fancy it was not.

Bathtubs have improved through time

(To make for a better soak)

And even can be elegant—

For bath time is no joke.

But even if a humble tub,

One can revel in its filling;

Sink down a spell—and steam and dream,

If only you are willing.

What About Slugs?

Slimy, squishy, stealthy

Lethargic, lumpy, loathsome

Onerous, ooey-gooey, orbiculate

Wet, wander-ful, woodsy

They show up out of nowhere,

Leave nasty trails behind.

They feast upon your garden,

As if you wouldn’t mind.

They show up after rainstorms

Like guests at a resort.

A slug makes no excuses

For being a sloshy sort.

A slug will not put up a fight

Nor spend its time defending.

A slug is just a slug, you see;

It spends no time pretending.

It flexes, flows, and frumps along,

Not caring how it looks.

A lot can be learned from a slug

That can’t be learned in books.

What About Kleenex?

There are many brands but one idea—to wipe the germs away.

Did you know Kleenex pioneered the tissues we love to this day?

A Kleenex says “here, let me help you” when you’re sad or have a cold;

It’s exceptional at drying tears—whether you’re young or old.

Kleenex, in short, is for everyone! It’s timeless—tried and true,

But at first nobody envisioned just all that it could do.

A “cleansing tissue” at first, in the 20’s it came on the scene.

But marketing would be a challenge…no one knew just what it would clean.

The hope was a handy replacement for towels women used for cold cream;

Then ads promised movie star skin—what a concept; what a dream!

The tissue was trademarked Kleenex^®  and launched in 1924

As a cold cream and make-up remover; then research discovered much more.

Handkerchiefs lost their appeal—people went on a Kleenex spree.

Soon men, women, children—all ages—were becoming hanky-free.

What’s nice about a Kleenex is…the box—so efficient and neat—

And also the comforting softness—that’s pretty hard to beat.

But Kleenexes have other uses—like cleaning up spills off the floor;

And a Kleenex can serve as a napkin—the job just might take a few more.

Dispatching earwigs and spiders is one of the jobs it can boast,

And when bunched and tied ‘round the middle, a Kleenex can make a fine ghost.

It’s good to wrap up tiny objects that might, in a purse, become lost—

Like earrings or beads or small hair clips—just make sure it doesn’t get tossed!

Be it face, nose, or pure innovation—the Kleenex brand maintains first place

Over all other competing tissues designed for one’s nose and face.

Originally, this product was an “excess material” creation.

Who knew it would be such a hit, generation to generation?

So when you pull out your next Kleenex, be grateful for all it can do—

And offer it proudly the next time somebody exclaims, “Ah-choo!”

What About Tofu?

It looks like a custard but tastes like the ground.

It jiggles like Jell-o yet doesn’t make sound.

It isn’t a meat, and it isn’t a cheese,

And it springs like a sponge when you give it a squeeze.

It isn’t a fish, but fresh water preserves it.

Like fruitcake, one first must decide who deserves it.

Here, try this. What is it? It’s tofu. It’s good.

It’s different (while thinking you’d rather gnaw wood).

But before poor ol’ tofu is scorned and abused,

Know that all is not lost—flavor can be infused.

Whatever you cook it with, it will portray—

It’s a bit of a copycat food, some might say.

Tofu in your fridge may not foster endearment

Because—well, it looks like a science experiment.

Though made from the soybean, it looks rather fungal

Or like something only found deep in the jungle.

It’s strange, it’s perplexing—yet widely consumed.

It’s like something was started…and never resumed;

And so for convenience we’ve given a word

So patrons can order that blob of bean curd.

We use the term “tofu” to describe this mass.

It’s like something you’d yell in a karate class.

But no matter its oddness in flavor or looks—

It may look like brain matter, but it’s praised by skilled cooks.

Just go on the web and consult the ambitious

On “How to Make Tofu Taste Freakin’ Delicious.”

So…what about tofu? Is it worth a try?

Should it have a taste contest with say, kidney pie?

It’s inventive, a wonder—that we cannot deny.

Some folks like to eat it. I still wonder why.