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Do you remember your doubt when trying something new? In the back of your mind there was a strong hesitation. You wondered if this was a joke or something being recorded for AFV. Then, when you tried it you were shocked that it worked.
Being out in the field and holding a turkey box call in my hand was one of those moments. Without any training I thought that surely no real turkey would succumb to my artificial calls from a man-made contraption. Metal and plastic could never fool a living creature, could they?
So, as the morning sun peaked over the horizon I decided to give it try. I would attempt to reproduce the accurate sound of a female turkey calling for the intimate services of a Tom turkey. With enthusiasm and a bit of chagrin I activated the call by pushing the plunger vigorously and sending out a series of squawks, yelps and purrs.
Proudly, I marveled at my new found experience. To me it sorted sounded like a turkey. But, humorously as a novice to this bird language I snickered because I had had no idea what I was saying.
There was no time to imagine anything else. A real turkey, a male, a Tom, gobbled back in the distance! I could hardly contain my laughter. Here in the wilds a genuine wild turkey was answering my female overtures to come and mate!
Our romantic discourse lasted for nearly half an hour. Then, from out of the woods a competitor emerged. A real hen wandered into the field and displayed herself, purring like an alluring temptress.
Then, appearing in full strut from behind a stand of pine trees, a Tom turkey waddled into the meadow and locked in its gaze at the beauty before him. I tried another cluck, one more purr and another cackle from my box call. But, the Tom was smitten by the newcomer.
It was a show! The Tom did all of the work. He was showing off, dancing figure eights, puffing up its feathers, swirling his wings in the dust and then gobbling up a fierce burst every few minutes that echoed up and down the meadow.
I lost! He went with that other female! Oh, well, I wasn’t ready for a new relationship. I would have had to be honest and tell him that this whole thing started off with an imitation box call.
Dawn would soon be approaching and I wanted to be situated in time to greet the new day. My buddy was heading toward a recommended spot. Have you ever gotten up early enough just to welcome a new day?
The night sky was already turning light against the dark woods. I sat on a low hanging tree limb dressed warmly and in clothes that would blend me into the vast array of trees, bushes and shrubbery. My hopes were high for an eventful new day.
As dawn crept over the woods light spread across the meadow. Birds chirped happily in the trees, squirrels chattered wildly at whatever suited them and even a few giant beetles roamed over the forest floor. Then, movement caught my eye.
At the edge of the tree-line on the opposite side of the meadow a whitetail deer stepped carefully into the open. She raised her head to sniff the air. Her ears pivoted in every direction to pick up any sounds of danger. Her eyes were assessing all the signals that she was picking up. Her tail wagged in contentment and she began to graze her way into the center of the meadow.
Soon another deer followed her, then another and then more. She was the vanguard for a dozen-plus-one. Young fawns frolicked playfully as adult deer grazed contently. I’m in awe of God’s engineering and aesthetic design of this graceful wonderful animal.
But, I was still waiting for the prize of the day. I pulled out a recommended tool. A sportsman recommended it. It’s a box call.
It’s shaped like an egg with a plunger running through its center. Push on the plunger and a reed scrapes across a metal plate and produces a squawking sound like a turkey hen. The object is to sound like a lonely female turkey that wants the company of a male Tom.
In disbelief I rolled the box call around in my hands. Surely, I thought, no real live male Tom turkey would fall for a man made unit sending out shrill sounds and yelps. Could I really sound like an alluring female bird?
I gave it a rigorous try. The sounds reminded me of a scratched-up vinyl LP played on a broken down record player. But before I could think of any more insults at my own wildlife mimicking, a distant sound of a gobbling turkey answered my call!
It was a rare Saturday in my busy schedule. I had a few free hours at my disposal. The weather here in Michigan was even cooperating. It was time to slip away into the tranquility of a motorcycle ride.
I fired up my V-twin. Once I turned the ignition key, the whirring of the fuel injection system operated flawlessly. With a smile emerging on my face, I pressed the ignition switch and heard the powerful 1600cc engine roar to life.
My chin strap was cinched tightly, my gloves were strapped down and my face mask lowered to cruising mode. I stepped on the shifter and put my bike in gear. It kicked just enough to let me know that we were ready to transfer power to the shaft drive. Releasing the brake, I eased the clutch lever out into the engaged position.
Slowly, deliberately and with eagerness to begin a journey, my motorcycle, the Silver Dragon and I roared out of our neighborhood and found the interstate in a matter of moments. Powerful and smooth my cruiser slipped passed the major signs of civilization. It was less than an hour before we turned on to a country road and sliced through the early Spring time farm lands and hills of emerging wildflowers.
The afternoon sun danced through the tree limbs that lined the road. Lush fields of green grass and freshly tilled fields carpeted each side of the two lane road. Birds flew over my head, small ponds glistened in the daylight. God’s artistry was breathtaking.
Limitations of man-made machines forced me to stop. It was time to get some gasoline if I were to make it back home. When I again turned my sights toward home, I chose a different route back. I pulled into a place for lunch, mostly to study the map.
During my map break I saw how close I was to Hell, Michigan. It’s really a wide spot in the road with a legendary name. There’s a general store and an ice cream shop both sharing a gravel parking lot. I stopped to take a picture.
It was to me ironic that I got lost trying to find Hell but had no trouble getting out of it. Something inside me felt good about leaving that place and set my sights for home, and my real journey for life, on my way to heaven.
Is reading required in your world? Do you have to schedule time to familiarize yourself with key volumes in your field? Is your job description dependent on your expertise dependent on you having knowledge and maybe even expertise on the published works of others? This is all true in my world.
My office is lined with shelves full of books. A professional librarian came in to organize my books for me on several occasions. Since then I have messed it up with my rearrangement, misplaced titles from re-shelving incorrectly and more new additions.
There are thousands of books in my personal collection. One time I had the foolish idea that I should add up how much this library cost me. Once I got up to the price of a new motorcycle, I slowed down. Then, when the sum surpassed the cost of a luxury car, I quit counting.
That exercise in arithmetic was done after I donated half of my library to a World Missions project. I was in a down-sizing mode before I moved the balance of my books two thousand miles across the country to my new home.
Before the culling my collection was twice its current size. I did some serious reduction just to avoid the expensive of moving costs that was determined by weight. Thousands of books weigh thousands of pounds. That’s when the idea of eventually trying to estimate the cost of the library first popped into my mind.
But, who can deny the value of good books? They teach us, educate us, train us and inform us. Through books we travel to exotic lands, learn about cultures, flora and fauna. As pages turn we are exposed to new thoughts, solutions, challenges and wonders of life. Those lofty thoughts are only what we get from the world of non-fiction.
When the endless world of fiction is added into the discussion, our imagination kicks in and goes wild. The creativity of our minds eye salivates and the concept of limitations is obliterated. There is a freshness and aliveness in the world of fiction that has no parallel.
Obligatory reading of important volumes during graduate school was essential but dull writing sapped my interest in reading. But, the wonderful world of exploring new worlds, ideas along with heroes, heroines, love, adventure, tragedy and cheer are back in my regular schedule. Have you read a good book lately?
The world of human health and how the body goes into healing mode is amazing. After experiencing trauma, God has designed several physiological responses to enable the body to “reboot” or to retreat for the purpose of healing. One of those states of repair is called a coma.I am not a medical professional but I have been their subject on several occasions. So, I have heard them talking. Isn’t it fascinating to be the object of attention of several very bright humans dressed in white coats?
They poke and prod. Then, they discuss and compare notes on their poking and prodding. Of course someone’s clever poke may have been overlooked by another so everyone has to get into the act, so you get poked more, the same kind of poke, just by a different doctor. I think that they call this pin cushion medicine.
My friend, John, was the object of several doctors’ examination. They diagnosed him with prostate cancer. That sends a shiver down the spine of most of us men. Surgery was the best course of action in this case.
The surgery went fine. The doctors accomplished all that they wanted to do and everything turned out textbook perfect. But, when they tried to bring John out of his anesthesia, that’s when things got dicey.
John did not respond to attempts to bring him around. The more that time passed the more critical things became. Doctors were aware of the threshold of time before the brain would become at risk with the oxygen flow in flux.
That is when the surgeon in charge ordered John to be put into an induced coma. This state of extreme unconsciousness protects the brain’s higher functions, giving the body time to heal without any further parts suffering damage in the time being.
In a coma state a person can still stand, walk and even carry on a conversation but all from their subconscious. Usually, patients do not remember such activity. John is one of them.
He was chatting with his family, hallucinating about history and generally giving orders to anyone who was around. But, the best part of the coma was that after fourteen days, John woke up! He doesn’t remember anything from those days and he is well on his way to mending. Welcome back, John! Don’t forget you borrowed a hundred from me about fourteen days ago.
In the Book of Lists I made a humorous discovery. One of the entries identifies the top American fears. Some were not a surprise: loneliness, heights, dogs, elevators, etc. The highest ranking phobia was what caught my attention: fear of speaking in front of an audience.
I laughed because before I knew about this ranking. I had already chosen speaking as a profession. Yes, I speak in front of people for a living.
This past weekend is an example. I flew into Philadelphia to speak at a men’s conference called Iron Sharpens Iron. Men crowded into a gymnasium. I was introduced and invited to come up and deliver my talk.
Before I stepped behind the lectern, I had several hours to mentally prepare. For weeks I had studied for my two presentations. One would be without media support. The other would be highly dependent on Powerpoint and visuals.
This group spent the money to bring me out to their city and I wanted to give them my best. So, for the time being I had to set aside all of my distractions and concentrate on what I would be saying in the next 40 minutes.
Most of these men never heard of me. They didn’t know what to expect. But, that wasn’t my primary concern. I wanted to successfully impact all of them so that their lives would never be the same again.
The walk up to the stage is a lonely one. If I ever get self-conscious I’m sunk. It’s not a time to worry either. That would short-circuit my focus.
I’ve been at this for a long time. My first speaking assignment was in a Rescue Mission. The guests have to listen to the message first then they would be served a hot meal. Most of the men fell asleep right after my introduction. Ok, they fall asleep during the introduction.
Many years and forgettable presentations later I no longer worry first about what the audience thinks of me. Those uh’s and um’s are rare expressions. Now, I am focused on connecting with my audience.
Today when I step behind the lectern I make sure that I communicate clearly and passionately to my audience. My dream is that everyone who came to listen will be stirred in mind and soul. I have learned that it is far more important as a public speaker what I think of my audience than what they think of me.
There were several couples interviewed on a television show. I was appalled. What they shared in common was a lazy husband.
For one couple the husband didn’t have a job. Instead, he felt that his calling in life was to become a writer so he spent his time writing a book. He does not have a contract or even a proposal with a publisher. He doesn’t have an income. He depends on his wife to support him and their child.
After a few moments of hearing lame excuses, I was annoyed. It stirred up bitter feelings for a friend that I have helped. Her estranged husband had only brought home bills, Starbuck charges, empty dreams and STD’s.
I can’t personally relate. There is an insatiable appetite in me to accomplish. It’s not a matter of not achieving, it’s a matter of adding to my schedule to try and achieve more.
In this past year I have added to an already full schedule, writing this blog five times a week. Then, I added another blog that I publish weekly through Michigan Theological Seminary, where I serve. On top of that I still work five long days a week.
Then, I work most weekends speaking at churches, conferences or on my off-weekends I’m teaching adults at church. I do this in the middle of writing a book proposal for my literary agency. The intensity of such a full schedule makes me careful to work out regularly just to fight the stress.
Deadbeat husbands and dads irk me and engender no sympathy. When they don’t provide for their families it is an affront of major spiritual proportions. They can do a lot of talking, blaming and even sound remorseful, but they do not show any signs of sustainable responsibility.
The world of Christianity isn’t immune from this shameful plight. Christians who are lazy are despicable. Their laziness is an excuse for whining. These Christian deadbeats want second one-thousand-and-one-more-chances to make it right.
I don’t recall ever witnessing a deadbeat turn it around. Motivating the unmotivated is next to impossible. They promise up a storm but rarely deliver.
But, give me a room full of men who want to move, take on the world, accomplish something or make a difference with their lives and I am ecstatic. Let’s accomplish so much together in the name of Christ. Anyone out there want to join me and give me a hand?
This past weekend I flew into Philadelphia for the first time. It was another opportunity to use my learned people skills. Watching others has taught me how to successfully interact with new people.
The passengers in the security line were all strangers. An old grouch was pushing his way in line, being rude and generally obnoxious. Then, he pushed my stuff on the security belt.
That deserved a response. So, I looked at him straight in the eye. Yes, eye- contact was deliberately made. Once a moment of pause slipped by, I smiled. Honestly, I’m sure that I heard some facial-cracking but he sort of smiled back!
On the jetliner, when my seat mate sat down he did a dastardly thing. He pulled out a fragrant sandwich and began eating right. ”It smells like you have enough to share,” I offered.
He laughed so hard that he started spitting lettuce pieces in my direction. That social slip made him laugh even more. I joined in the chuckling and assured him that I was just joking.
Once I landed in the city of Brotherly Love I looked for my host. He would be another stranger. Our rendezvous was flawless. We loaded my luggage into his car and drove off through rush hour traffic, a one hour journey that took us over two.
But, we laughed, talked and dissected everything from national politics to marriage matters. We had the beginnings of great fellowship between men who were complete strangers just a few hours earlier. It began with that same people skills learned long ago.
By nature I am an introvert. It has not been to frequent that I have suggested that I would be just peachy content with my dog and a fishing pole. There is a lot of truth to that.
Yet, God blessed my life with the privilege to speak to others on His behalf. It is both an honor and a huge responsibility. To be effective I must engage people and find ways to interact with them.
This is the skill. Every where I go I know that there are people who are shy, hurting, self-conscious and introverted. Those are all traits that have been a part of my life. So, I take the first step into their lives. I take the initiative. That was God’s way with us. It works for us to serve others the same way.
Our national economy starts us complaining. We moan over nasty politics. International stresses make us unsettled.
Whether it is local, national or international we are all tempted to complain about something. Maybe some of us can stem the tide and bring into the world real cheer, substantial care or make a difference one life at a time.
I had an appointment with a medical specialist. When my family doctor set up the testing and I heard the word “specialist” I prepared for some significant waiting. Sure enough I arrived early, filled out my paper work and waited and waited and waited.
Twenty minutes into my waiting a technician came to apologize. After an hour and a half the staff came to apologize around five or six times for the delay.
It was no problem for me. I had come prepared with a new book that I was really enjoying. Due to the delays I read half of my book.
At the end of my tests the techs thanked me for my patience. Surprised, I told them that it was no problem. They pursued the complement.
Nearly everyone else had expressed their disgruntled complaints in large portions. That’s quite an impact to have on others when our patience and cheerful spirit can have such a positive impact on people. Unexpected encouragement of others was a nice surprise in my day!
My schedule called for my appearance at a luncheon of local community leaders and pastors. We were partnering with a local radio station to sponsor the event. I was expecting about 60 pastors to come.
When, I arrived and did my PR thing, the guests kept coming. By the time the lunch began we had 400 guests! That was a nice surprise!
A friend sent me an email and told me that he read one of my recent blogs. He liked it so much that he sent it to all of his friends. That was an amazing surprise in my day. But, this was a surprise that multiplied itself.
Later in the day I received an email from a total stranger. He was a friend of my friend who sent out my blog to his mailing list. His friend told me how much he liked my blog.
God is so generous to surprise us will blessings. All of today’s surprises made me feel so good, that they made me want to write. So, that’s what I just did!
On Sunday in church a friend grabbed me by the arm. His tug was unusually forthright. Clearly he wanted a private word.
I focused on him and what he was going to say. I have learned that look, that mood and that furrowed brow. Usually, I prepare myself to hear a complaint, a rant regarding something that I did wrong or a warning of some impending disaster.
Instead, I was surprised. He told me that he was concerned for me. He was especially taking note that I had mentioned all of the pressure that I have been facing. Here was a friend asking how I was doing.
I was frank with him. This is a time in my professional career when I have never felt so much stress. There are massive budgetary challenges, enormous opportunities to move forward and complicated people issues that are filling up my days.
On top of that I have several writing projects hounding me for attention. Then, my time is stretched into world missions, service at my church and an ever-scattering-family. Add to this list household maintenance matters and it’s amazing that a nurse recently called my blood pressure beautiful!
Into my very busy days and nights I build in relaxation measures. For me physical activity is vital. It’s not easy to work out when I finish a long 12 hour day. Those hectic hours fill my plate with more rather than emptying it.
Sometimes I’ll swim for a half mile or more. At other times I’ll hop on my bicycle for an aggressive ten mile ride. Or I might lace up my hiking boots and pound out an hour-long stomp around our neighborhood. That keeps my days manageable.
But, there are greater secrets that make life worth living through enormously stressful times. Sometimes I’ll climb aboard my motorcycle and fire up my twin engine and roar down a country road, lost in the moment.
Or I’ll grab a fishing pole and head down to the lake. Whether I’m trying to cast a variety of hardware or drowning worms, it’s not the catching that is important. It is the moment of being engulfed in His creation.
There isn’t always someone to help us bear our burden. But, that doesn’t mean we have to buckle under the pressure. Buck up. Embrace life. God has given us everything we need to make a successful go of it.
