GARDEN OF EDEN

“The Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees
that were pleasing to the eye and good for food…. God took the man
and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.”
Genesis 2:9, 15 (NIV)

Many people believe that the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden is merely myth. As a nature lover and tree-hugger, I find it quite credible.

The wooded area behind my house is my Garden of Eden—the sacred place where I walk pensively with my Creator. And yet, this small area of woods vividly represents our fallen world—the garden after Adam and Eve sinned.

The forest landscape is scarred by timber harvesting of oak, walnut, cherry, elm and sycamore trees. In the meadow, beneath towering poles hung with heavy wires, the wildlife habitat is like a war zone. Viable trees, shrubs, grasses and wild flowers were ripped from the ground by heavy equipment to clear and widen the easement.

Before the devastation, there was a trodden path that meandered through the trees and meadow, connecting to another well-worn trail that hugs the banks of the White River. The river trail used to be passable, but now, much of the path is strewn with crowns, severed from their trunks and left to wither and decay.

Beneath these fallen crowns are younger trees, their spindly, supple trunks bent low to the ground under the dead weight of expired elders. The crowning glory of foliage sweeps the forest floor, wildflowers interwoven with the branches, like a grapevine wreath strung with anemone, violets, bluebells, mayapple, asters, spring beauty, toadshade, daisies…

I miss my leisurely walks along the riverbank. Climbing through the dying crowns is like trudging through the wreckage of a tornado. It is difficult to recognize—or visualize— what once was. Now I must clamber over immense trunks and climb through a maze of branches. The spirits of the trees whisper among themselves in the breeze as I wend my way through the tombstones of their cemetery.

Recently, a friend said, “the land has a way of recovering on it’s own.” Yes, and no. I wonder how many critters have fled to quieter meadows and woods, safe from bulldozers. Those one-hundred-plus-year-old trees are goners; it will take as many years for saplings to reach heights necessary to recreate the canopy. I’ll be fodder for trees by then.

Even though I must resign myself to the victimization of the woods, it remains my sanctuary. Just as I now walk with God through the havoc of the woods, so I must walk with God through the turmoil of my life. With God’s help I weave my way through this fallen world and he weaves a floral wreath of promises to care for me, no matter what befalls me.

I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go.
Genesis 28:15 (NIV)

I am with you always.
Matthew 28:20 (NIV)

"NOoooooo!" - August 1, 2009

“Evan, eat your green beans, please.”

“No,” replies my twenty-month-old grandson, his hazel eyes locked intently with mine.

Hmmm… I never had this problem with his daddy, Matt, who inhaled “greensie-beansies” by the can-full. Matthew was master of the “NO!” under most other circumstances. Surely I can get this sweet son of his to eat his beans.

Evan’s vocabulary is rich in ways to resist. There’s the sing-songy “NOoooooo…,” with O’s streaming from his O-shaped mouth, like bubbles streaming from a bubble wand. Initially, his Mommy and Daddy thought this was cute, but it quickly lost its charm as Evan’s vocabulary of “no” grew.

As with my green beans example, there is the matter-of-fact “no,” with eye contact emphasis, testing the adult, “How far can I go?”

Then there’s the quiet “no,” with a slight movement of his head back and forth, when he is engrossed in an activity, such as playing with the remote control.

And, of course, the emphatic “NO!!!” said with eyes ablaze in vehement opposition, that makes living with a toddler so charming.

I relish those blessed times when a toddler says “no,” and then immediately obeys. “This is MY idea to comply, not yours!”

Imagine yourself a toddler in relationship to your Heavenly Father. I routinely get stuck in spiritual toddlerhood, my first reaction to God’s nudging usually some form of “no.” I take consolation from my Biblical ancestors:

Moses employed the “Who, ME?” tactic, when God spoke from the burning bush, saying, “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt." Moses queried God, "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh…?" (Exodus 3:10-11 NIV)

The Old Testament prophet, Jeremiah, adopted the, “I’m too young” line of defense when God informed him that before he was even born, “I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.” Jeremiah replied, “I can’t speak for you! I’m too young!” (Jeremiah 1:6 NIV)

Jonah utilized the “Flea-to-the-Sea” strategy when God instructed him to take bad news to the people of Nineveh. Due to acting like a spineless jellyfish, Jonah landed in “time-out”—in the belly of a whale.

There are countless ways to say “no” to God. For example, God says that my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, but I mistreat it by ingesting the wrong things, eating too much, and by not getting proper exercise and sleep. God wants me to be a good steward of my time and talents, but I squander both of these gifts far too often. I let my fears of rejection and abandonment get in the way of standing up for God’s truth and the welfare of others.

To be called a child of God is both an honor and a reflection of the reality that, spiritually, I will always be a child in need of my Father’s guidance and discipline. As parents, we have our children’s best interest at heart when we “don’t take no for an answer. “ God does, too.

JOSHUA DAVID TEEPLE

Born July 21, 2009
7 lbs. 10 oz

PAPA MATT AND HIS TWO BOYS, EVAN & JOSHUA

MAMA KRISTY AND HER NEW BOY

BIG BROTHER EVAN MEETS JOSHUA

FINDING NICK - July 4, 2009

“I know the plans I have for you…plans to give you hope and a future.”
Jeremiah 29:11(NIV)

This is the story of a boy and his dog who met in prison; the Indiana Women’s Prison in Indianapolis. I am privy to this saga, because the dog was my dog, Faith.

Faith is the third puppy my husband Rex and I fostered for Leader Dogs for the Blind. At one year of age, Faith returned to Leader Dog School to begin formal training. Six months into training, she was released from the program due to kennel stress. We adopted Faith, with the intent of finding her an alternative avenue of service.

Canine Partners of the Rockies, a program that matches dogs with adults with disabilities, eagerly accepted her, only to release her a few weeks later. Though her guide dog skills were excellent, they did not transfer well for wheelchair work. As her “mom,” I was distressed that my golden girl had not yet found her purpose in life, or a home and family to call her own.

The boy in this story is Nick, a nine-year-old with Down’s syndrome. At age 2 ½, Nick was speaking simple sentences and enjoyed singing songs with his mom. Then one day, Nick disappeared into a private reality, no long speaking, singing, or answering to his name. When Nick was eight, he was finally diagnosed with autism.

Nick is a sweet, loving child, but when upset, he cries, screams, hits, bites, and throws things. In public, he often refuses to hold a parent’s hand, runs of, and plops to the ground to stage a “sit in.”

Nick’s mom, Katrina, intuitively knew that her son would benefit from having a service dog. Although Nick does not have the usual disabilities for which people typically receive service dogs, this determined mom searched for a program that could help him.

During the same time period, my husband and I were contemplating a third placement for Faith—and that is when God brought Faith and Nick together, via the Indiana Canine Assistant Network.

After several months of training, Faith was ready to be matched with a child. Three days into “team training,” when the child and parents work intensively with the service dog and trainer, Nick began speaking—to Faith. Like most children with autism, he needed something to spin, but one day in training, Nick threw his cup and pencil to the floor and made a beeline for Faith.

Faith was allowed to go home with Nick during training and one night, when Nick was crying, Faith went to him. Nick wrapped his arms around Faith and cried into her fur. With Faith’s comforting presence, Nick’s behavior did not escalate into rage or violence.

Nick is beginning to interact more with humans as well. He speaks in sentences. He sings with Mom—the tunes and lyrics he knew at 2 ½, intact.

“I’ve searched for my son for all these years," says his mom, “and it took a dog to find him.”

“Prayer is the key to Heaven, but FAITH unlocks the door.”

I dedicate my column to the ICAN trainers
at the Indiana Women’s Prison.
You are awesome! God bless you!