I don’t ever remember being afraid of spiders. Sure, I think they are nasty and would never make one a pet, but I have not run from them. I have actually interacted with many spiders in my day. I have stomped on large spiders, smashed small ones, flicked daddy long legs and squashed garden spiders. I have watched a black widow move along the wall and held a jar with a brown recluse. I have even tolerated staring at the tarantula displays at zoos. I have not made it through an entire viewing of “Arachnophobia,” about 5 minutes was enough for me, but I have picked up dead spiders! All this to say that spiders, although I kill them when I get a chance (my small contribution to subduing the earth), I have no outright vendetta against them or fear of them. This fact is clear in my mind, but obviously not in my subconscious.
One Sunday evening this summer Crystal was awakened by shouts. I personally did not hear the culprit, but she tells me the shrieks were coming from our room. For the sake of the story we will call this sorry fellow, “Seth.” Anyway, Crystal was started from her sleep by this ruckus, and she turned to “Seth” and asked if everything was alright. His only response was “Spiders!… spiders!…” and more movement. As soon as these words had escaped his mouth he leapt off the end the bed, taking all the covers with him. This was slightly unnerving for Crystal and more questions were asked as she pondered whether the spiders were on her side of the bed as well.
I suppose the situation would have been quite interesting had I been awake for it. In the middle of the night there is a poor delusional soul kneeling at the end of the bed with all the covers surrounding him, obviously frightened by something, would be something to remember.
In the morning when asked about it, I was foggy. I do remember having a dream where a tarantula was running toward me and I jumped over it, but that is about it. I propose that this “mythical” account was simply a dream of Crystal’s.
Now, how did all these covers get on the ground?

Some just do it right.

I love thinking about the future millennial kingdom of God. The day
when believers will sit with Jesus Christ – free from hunger, disease
and fear. Those will be the good days!

What a Cutie!

Seth’s parents brought us down a lovely plant last week to put in our
kitchen. We really enjoy having it there, but after a couple of days
we started noticing something strange. Seth did, that is. One day, I
walked into the kitchen as he was peering into the plant with a
flashlight. He thought there may be a frog in the plant as he was
hearing strange noises. Since we don’t believe in ghosts, that had to
be our assumption. The problem was, the noise never occurred when I
was in the room, only Seth. Finally, after several days of this, I
heard the noise as well but we still found no frog. Until….the next
day I got up from the table to walk across the kitchen and a frog
jumped out in front of me!! Needless to say, at 6:30 in the morning
and seeing an animal (which I thought was a mouse) in the kitchen
slightly startled me and I may have screamed (a little). We were able
to catch the frog and release him to the wilds of Minneapolis. We are
just wondering now if his wife is still in the plant…

Los padres de Seth trajeron una planta bonita por nosotros la otra
semana. La pusimos en la cocina, pero después de algunos días
escuchábamos algunos sonidos. Pues, Seth escuchaba. Un día, al entrar
la cocina, yo vi a Seth, mirando fijamente en la planta con una
linterna. Él pensaba que quizás un sapo estuviera en la planta porque
él escuchaba sonidos raros de la cocina. Como no creemos en las
fantasmas, tenía que ser un sapo. El problema fue que nunca ocurrió el
sonido cuando yo estaba cerca, solamente cuando Seth estaba allí. Por
fin, algunos días después, yo escuché el sonido también. Pero todavía
no podíamos encontrar el sapo. Hasta…el próximo día cuando yo estaba
caminando en la cocina. ¡Un sapo saltó en frente de mi! Claro que
estaba bien asustada (porque por un rato yo pensé que fuera una rata o
algo) y quizás yo grité (un poco). Pudimos recoger el sapo y liberarlo
afuera. Ahora, estamos preguntándonos si haya una esposa en la planta
también…

that you can force painted turtles to hibernate, and can keep them
hibernating for quite some time with only the use of several household
items and a refrigerator? First, catch a turtle. Second, wrap the
turtle in a wet paper towel. Third, place the “packaged” turtle in a
ziplock bag appropriately marked so as not to cause problems with
other family members looking for a midnight snack. It is best to label
it something that none of the family members will want to eat, yet
would not want to throw away, like “Amish Friendship Bread Mix.”
Fourth, place in the refrigerator. Nearly any place in the
refrigerator will do, although I always thought the “crisper” drawer
was the most appropriate. Fifth, awake when desired by removing the
turtle from his/her “hibernation station.” This is most dramatically
done in plain view of the family. For the best results, do it at
dinner time.
*The author holds no responsibility for the results of this knowledge
when placed in the head of an inquisitive boy.

Three weeks ago I began training for a big race this winter. My dad
planted the idea in my mind that we could run around the island of
Cozumel. Before completely commiting to every idea, I have learned to
at least check the plausibility. So, as Charles Lindbergh pulled out
his piece of string and globe, I pulled out trusty Google Earth and
measured it. The greatness of the idea faded much like the image on
the tv as it is powered down. The road around the inhabited part of
the island is 40 miles! I am not sure that it is the best idea to
force ones body to run forty miles, after all, it is a temple. There
are many other rational arguments about why one should never run forty
miles, such as the possibility of sunstroke, extreme blisters, or that
ones legs may fall off.
Well, I suppose I will find out if any of those are legitimate concerns.

“In every temptation let us look up to a crucified Christ, who is fitted and qualified to support tempted souls. Oh my soul, whenever you are assaulted, let the wounds of Christ be your city of refuge where you may fly and live.

Let us learn, in every trouble which presses us—whether it be sin, temptation, or any other evil—to translate it from ourselves to Christ. And all the good in Christ—let us learn to translate it from Christ to ourselves.”

—Thomas Brooks, The Golden Key to Open Hidden Treasures