Silver Linings

Now that the re-construction of my basement is complete, I'm reminded how often events that feel so horrible at the time have a way of turning into something positive. Even the ugliest, most difficult times have a way of revealing some hidden blessing somewhere down the line. The Bible encourages us to thank God for hardships but that's a pretty tall order, especially when you're in the middle of one. It's usually much later, after the worst of the trial is over, that we can appreciate what we gained from going through it.

One famous incident in our family is the canoe ride. Many years ago, when the kids were still in grade school, we took a trip up to northern Wisconsin. My husband, an avid outdoors man who had camped his entire childhood, suggested we visit an outfitter who would set us up with everything we needed to spend a couple of days in the wilderness. Unfortunately for him, his wife had come from a family whose idea of roughing it was arriving at the Holiday Inn without a reservation. But I decided to be brave. Armed with my copy of USA Today (a girl has to have some comforts of home) I took my place in the canoe and waved goodbye to civilization for the next 48 hours.

Nothing terrible happened for awhile. I watched as my husband taught our kids to set up a tent, gather firewood and keep food away from bears (that tidbit definitely snapped my head out of the newspaper - bears, what bears?). We spent the night on a tiny island and actually woke up with all limbs intact. Always a good thing. I was beginning to think this camping thing wasn't so bad.

Not so fast.

On the way back to the meeting point, the clouds started to roll in. Off in the distance, we could see the sky illuminated with ominous streaks of lightening. That's when my very level-headed, very calm husband shouted, "Paddle like hell before we all fry like eggs!"

Everything was a blur after that. All I can really remember is the sound of my children screaming "We don't want to die" or something of that nature and the rolling boom of approaching thunder. When we finally reached the shore, I cradled my frightened children and delicately chastised my husband ("Are you crazy? You scared the crap out of all of us!!).

You've probably figured out by now that we didn't fry like eggs that day. The storm passed and we (reluctantly) climbed back into the canoe and paddled back to the drop-off point where the outfitter was waiting to pick us up. We camped many times after that but, despite many memorable moments, nothing ever came close to creating the kind of lasting impression that that canoe ride did. And now, fifteen years later nothing makes our family laugh harder than remembering my husband's desperate plea.

So, whether it's a sewer back-up that ruins your basement, the sudden loss of a job, or a harrowing canoe ride, it's important to remember that, when the dust clears, you can end up with a beautiful new basement, a chance to start your own business, or a memory that can unite your family in familiar laughter forever.

Those silver linings may be tough to find sometimes but, if we look hard enough, they're usually there.
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There But For the Grace

For the last few days we've been shown a steady stream of images from hell. What the people of Japan are going through is hard to imagine but the pictures of devastation and loss can't help but encourage all of us to hold our loved ones a little closer. Hearing stories of children ripped out of their mothers' arms or seeing an old man standing on the remnants of his roof as it drifts out to sea has a way of putting things into perspective.

But why does it take tragedy to make us appreciate our blessings? Are we so wrapped up in our day to day routines that we can't stop doing long enough to just be? Are we so addicted to stimuli that we are unable to tolerate quiet? I don't know. It seems to be so easy these days to lose sight of what's important; so easy to forget that our days on this planet are numbered. Do we really want to be spending them texting, surfing the internet and talking incessantly on our cell phones? God, I hope not.