Sparks have certainly been flying the last few weeks; the tiniest flicker of fire combined with gale-force winds and saltine-cracker dryness has resulted in several dancing flames in fields around the area. Unfortunately, snap, crackle and pop is not the sound farmers want to hear behind their combine; a season of nurturing and growing can quickly crumble to ashes, leaving farmers with more questions than answers.
Like the tumbling leaves, questions regarding the flammable fields swirl around the community. Why is it so dry? Why is it so windy? Why doesn’t it rain a little to settle the dust? Why is hard work and toil reduced to charred stubble in a matter of minutes? The answers are not known, like many answers to life puzzling questions. The only certain answer is that sparks, dry fields and gusty winds make for a dangerous, anxious-filled equation.
It is with confidence that I have to report a favorable forecast of “sparks” flying once again this week. But, don’t worry, I’m not foretelling of great field fires; even if I did know, I wouldn’t be putting that knowledge into print. No, the “sparks” will be igniting in the print world, or perhaps more accurately in bookstores around the world. For the last year, fans around the world have been waiting for the latest “spark,” and this week marks the newest release from Sparks, Nicholas Sparks that is.
I have been a Sparks fan for over 15 years. I am one of those fans who has read all the books, who has seen all the movies and who will order the new book on its release date. Sparks has written 18 novels, including The Notebook, A Walk to Remember, Message in a Bottle and many more. While all these novels present the “boy meets girl; boy falls in love with girl” story, it isn’t actually Sparks’ “love stories” that I have grown so fond of—it’s his endings.
As a student of writing, I have always detested happy endings; I don’t like knowing the ending of a book by the third page. For many love stories, if the boy sees the girl by the third page, a reader can be fairly confident there will be a couple in the end… oh, there will be the little tiff in the middle to add suspense, but then the characters will reunite and live happily ever after.
Ugh!Sparks doesn’t have that nauseating sweetness concluding his novels. Don’t get me wrong, his conclusions aren’t depressing or doom and gloom either—it’s just the right amount of reality mixed with glints of hope… or perhaps I should say little sparks of assurance for better days to come. And I believe that is an accurate portrayal of reality, days filled with sparks of goodness to keep moving on.
Although I’m an avid fan of Sparks, I do not aspire to be another Sparks; it’s not possible. There are hundreds of fans who want to be just like Sparks; I’m not among those hundreds. No, I’ll use the “sparks” of creativity that God has given me and blaze my own way. I’m no Sparks. I’m a Smidt.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Carma’s Corner: 09/11/01-09/11/11
September 11, 2001 was like any other early Tuesday morning; I was reluctant to get up, knowing my daily schedule consisted of four demanding college classes. Before jumping into the shower, Mom switched on my radio, and I halfheartedly listened to the music. I wasn’t completely convinced that waking up was in my best interest, although I knew my time in bed was limited to the length of Mom’s shower. For the next fifteen minutes, I wavered between dreams and reality, but in an instant the dreams abruptly dissipated when the radio announced, “The World Trade Center has been struck by an airline.”
Needless to say, the radio was replaced by the TV; the dreams were replaced with the shocking reality of a building inferno—and questions were replaced with terror when the second plane slammed into the other tower. As the day unfolded, these two initial attacks were only the precursor of a day filled with indescribable horror and years filled with never-ending recovery efforts. When all was said and done, 9/11’s aftermath left approximately 3,000 empty chairs, places where grandfathers, fathers, brothers, uncles, sons, grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunts, daughters, friends, and even children once sat. Irreplaceable individuals were taken too soon by the ruthless tyranny of terrorists.
It’s been ten years now since that fateful Tuesday morning, when America, the land of life and liberty, quickly vanished into America, the land under attack and turmoil. It’s only natural to remember those who had their lives snatched away on that day, but it’s just as important to remember those who survived and were left behind. For thousands of people, life changed forever; for the nation, the sense of security and invincibleness waivered.
In the ten years since 9/11, America has seen its share of victories, the most notable being the capture and death of Osama bin Laden on May 2, 2011. However, other victories include the dedication of several memorials, the growth of children of 9/11 victims and the sense of moving on while remembering. September 11, 2001 marked the start of a new chapter not only for many people but also for the nation.
On November 11, 2001, President George W. Bush stated, “Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children.”
After ten years, this statement still rings true. We will not forget, but we will move on as a nation—and as I believe—one nation under God!
Needless to say, the radio was replaced by the TV; the dreams were replaced with the shocking reality of a building inferno—and questions were replaced with terror when the second plane slammed into the other tower. As the day unfolded, these two initial attacks were only the precursor of a day filled with indescribable horror and years filled with never-ending recovery efforts. When all was said and done, 9/11’s aftermath left approximately 3,000 empty chairs, places where grandfathers, fathers, brothers, uncles, sons, grandmothers, mothers, sisters, aunts, daughters, friends, and even children once sat. Irreplaceable individuals were taken too soon by the ruthless tyranny of terrorists.
It’s been ten years now since that fateful Tuesday morning, when America, the land of life and liberty, quickly vanished into America, the land under attack and turmoil. It’s only natural to remember those who had their lives snatched away on that day, but it’s just as important to remember those who survived and were left behind. For thousands of people, life changed forever; for the nation, the sense of security and invincibleness waivered.
In the ten years since 9/11, America has seen its share of victories, the most notable being the capture and death of Osama bin Laden on May 2, 2011. However, other victories include the dedication of several memorials, the growth of children of 9/11 victims and the sense of moving on while remembering. September 11, 2001 marked the start of a new chapter not only for many people but also for the nation.
On November 11, 2001, President George W. Bush stated, “Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children.”
After ten years, this statement still rings true. We will not forget, but we will move on as a nation—and as I believe—one nation under God!
Carma’s Corner: Back to School
It seems only fitting that I should write about back to school preparations; I mean, after all, it is August, and the days of summer freedom are quickly vanishing, much to the protest of students… and possibly even some teachers. There’s just something about summer—late evening strolls, dancing bonfires, smoky barbecues, chilly swims—that is hard to relinquish for desks, textbooks, and homework. But, every August, the calendar begins its march toward that red letter day, the first day of school.
For some students, the first day of school is dreaded; for other students, the day is merely another day, just one step further in the education journey, and, for a few, the day is exciting and can’t arrive soon enough. I guess I’ll confess that I tended to belong to the latter group; I truly did love school!! Oh, there were days when I wanted to heave the homework out of the window, and there were other days when skipping classes to go shopping sounded better than balancing chemical equations. But, for the most part, I didn’t find school to be dreadful. However, it wasn’t until recently that I fully discovered and understood my attraction toward school and learning.
When I was in kindergarten, I was a patient in the hospital more than a student in the classroom. It was pneumonia, then lung congestion, then sinus infection, then flu—the laundry list of infections went on and on. Being a kindergarten student, the hospital was the last place I wanted to be; I needed to be learning my letters and mathematics, not watching the IV drip the latest antibiotic. If I remember correctly, I spent more time watching the IV drip than learning my ABCs during my kindergarten year. But yet I knew I needed that IV in order to receive my reward—returning to school.
Ever since my kindergarten year, I always saw going to school/classes as a privilege—because, if I was going to school, it meant God had given me strength and health for that day. Don’t get me wrong, I was no perfect student; I had my fair share of fun, but I held a genuine respect for learning. I still do. In fact, I have so much respect for learning that I will be returning to the world of academia at the end of this month. I’m going back to school, not as a student though but as an adjunct instructor.
Beginning August 24th, I will be teaching English Composition on-line for Dordt College. This opportunity has exceeded all my expectations; I feel very honored… and a little overwhelmed, but not defeated. I’m confident that I’ll learn along with the students, if not more than my students! Because of this new venture, my contributions to the newspaper will be slightly less; I’m still planning to write, but more on a part-time basis for awhile… or at least until God reveals the next chapter of my life.
But, until then, I’ll be joining the ranks of those going back to school… and drawing strength from God who promises: “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11)
For some students, the first day of school is dreaded; for other students, the day is merely another day, just one step further in the education journey, and, for a few, the day is exciting and can’t arrive soon enough. I guess I’ll confess that I tended to belong to the latter group; I truly did love school!! Oh, there were days when I wanted to heave the homework out of the window, and there were other days when skipping classes to go shopping sounded better than balancing chemical equations. But, for the most part, I didn’t find school to be dreadful. However, it wasn’t until recently that I fully discovered and understood my attraction toward school and learning.
When I was in kindergarten, I was a patient in the hospital more than a student in the classroom. It was pneumonia, then lung congestion, then sinus infection, then flu—the laundry list of infections went on and on. Being a kindergarten student, the hospital was the last place I wanted to be; I needed to be learning my letters and mathematics, not watching the IV drip the latest antibiotic. If I remember correctly, I spent more time watching the IV drip than learning my ABCs during my kindergarten year. But yet I knew I needed that IV in order to receive my reward—returning to school.
Ever since my kindergarten year, I always saw going to school/classes as a privilege—because, if I was going to school, it meant God had given me strength and health for that day. Don’t get me wrong, I was no perfect student; I had my fair share of fun, but I held a genuine respect for learning. I still do. In fact, I have so much respect for learning that I will be returning to the world of academia at the end of this month. I’m going back to school, not as a student though but as an adjunct instructor.
Beginning August 24th, I will be teaching English Composition on-line for Dordt College. This opportunity has exceeded all my expectations; I feel very honored… and a little overwhelmed, but not defeated. I’m confident that I’ll learn along with the students, if not more than my students! Because of this new venture, my contributions to the newspaper will be slightly less; I’m still planning to write, but more on a part-time basis for awhile… or at least until God reveals the next chapter of my life.
But, until then, I’ll be joining the ranks of those going back to school… and drawing strength from God who promises: “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” (Jeremiah 29:11)
Monday, August 1, 2011
Carma’s Corner: Death Race
A couple weeks ago, the news anchor on Nightline stated, “There are three types of beings who will run themselves to death: dogs, horses, and humans.” I was not surprised by this statement; I have heard instances where dogs and horses have run until dropping dead—and, as for humans, it is not uncommon to run ragged, figuratively until death. However, the news anchor was not speaking figuratively; he was talking literally in which numerous individuals participate in the annual The Spartan Death Race.
How bad can it be? It’s just a race! Well, the death race makes RAGBRAI look like a cake walk; it makes the Tour de France look like a Sunday afternoon joy ride… and the Boston Marathon?? Phew… nothing more than a leisurely jog!! What exactly is The Spartan Death Race? According to the web page, “This is the highest level of Spartan Challenge. The Spartan Death Race is designed to present you with the totally unexpected, and the totally insane! This endurance race is comprised of mud runs, obstacle racing, physical challenges, and mental challenges all in a +48 hour adventure race.” Doesn’t sound too horrible yet, right? Oh, did I forget to mention that participants are not allowed sleep, have no knowledge of the obstacles to be completed, and not told where/when the finish will be??
The death race was created in 2007 and takes place in Pittsfield, Vermont. The race’s capacity is limited to 200 applicants, and all have to sign a fatality waiver upon registration. The race has an average recorded completion rate of 10 percent. This year’s race began on Friday, June 24, at 6 p.m. and lasted until 3p.m.on Sunday, June 26—45 hours. The race required participants to complete more than a dozen challenges through the central Vermont woods. The details only get better from here!
AGENDA:
Challenge One: dead-lift 100,000 pounds worth of stones over a six-hour period without stopping!
Challenge Two: hike upstream in 45-degree waters… after getting out of the water, carry a candle for a quarter-mile—if the flame goes out, do it over again. Regardless, the task has to be repeated seven times!
Challenge Three: pick out a three foot, 40 pound tree stump and carry it around for more than 24 hours, including a nine-hour hike to the top of a mountain. At the top of the mountain, participants receive several Bible verses to memorize and are required to recite the verses at the bottom of the mountain.
Have I lost anyone yet? No? Keep going then! Other challenges included carrying a 10-gallon bucket filled with water for 2.5 miles without spilling—if spilled, start over. After more than 40 hours into the race, participants were given a 166-question test to recall information given to them at the beginning of the race and throughout the course. Of the more than 150 who applied from 29 states and Canada, only 35 individuals survived the 2011 Spartan Death Race. Their prize package included: Spartan Death Race jacket (on completion), Spartan Death Race Finisher Medal, weeks of pain after the event, and the entitlement to be called a True Spartan (Gold Level).
By now, the overwhelming question may be… WHY? Why would people willingly volunteer for such torture? Why would anyone subject a body to such hardship? I do not have the answers. One participant who survived put it this way: “It’s unexplainable. When he announced it, it was sheer exhilaration. Then I had a moment where I thought, ‘I did it.’ It’s a life-changing experience. It puts things into perspective… you can move mountains if you really put your mind to it.”
So… there it is! Is anyone interested in enlisting in the 2012 Spartan Death Race? I don’t know; I’m considering it… I’ll be happy if I survive the registration process!!
For more information on The Spartan Death Race, visit the official web page at http://www.youmaydie.com/.
How bad can it be? It’s just a race! Well, the death race makes RAGBRAI look like a cake walk; it makes the Tour de France look like a Sunday afternoon joy ride… and the Boston Marathon?? Phew… nothing more than a leisurely jog!! What exactly is The Spartan Death Race? According to the web page, “This is the highest level of Spartan Challenge. The Spartan Death Race is designed to present you with the totally unexpected, and the totally insane! This endurance race is comprised of mud runs, obstacle racing, physical challenges, and mental challenges all in a +48 hour adventure race.” Doesn’t sound too horrible yet, right? Oh, did I forget to mention that participants are not allowed sleep, have no knowledge of the obstacles to be completed, and not told where/when the finish will be??
The death race was created in 2007 and takes place in Pittsfield, Vermont. The race’s capacity is limited to 200 applicants, and all have to sign a fatality waiver upon registration. The race has an average recorded completion rate of 10 percent. This year’s race began on Friday, June 24, at 6 p.m. and lasted until 3p.m.on Sunday, June 26—45 hours. The race required participants to complete more than a dozen challenges through the central Vermont woods. The details only get better from here!
AGENDA:
Challenge One: dead-lift 100,000 pounds worth of stones over a six-hour period without stopping!
Challenge Two: hike upstream in 45-degree waters… after getting out of the water, carry a candle for a quarter-mile—if the flame goes out, do it over again. Regardless, the task has to be repeated seven times!
Challenge Three: pick out a three foot, 40 pound tree stump and carry it around for more than 24 hours, including a nine-hour hike to the top of a mountain. At the top of the mountain, participants receive several Bible verses to memorize and are required to recite the verses at the bottom of the mountain.
Have I lost anyone yet? No? Keep going then! Other challenges included carrying a 10-gallon bucket filled with water for 2.5 miles without spilling—if spilled, start over. After more than 40 hours into the race, participants were given a 166-question test to recall information given to them at the beginning of the race and throughout the course. Of the more than 150 who applied from 29 states and Canada, only 35 individuals survived the 2011 Spartan Death Race. Their prize package included: Spartan Death Race jacket (on completion), Spartan Death Race Finisher Medal, weeks of pain after the event, and the entitlement to be called a True Spartan (Gold Level).
By now, the overwhelming question may be… WHY? Why would people willingly volunteer for such torture? Why would anyone subject a body to such hardship? I do not have the answers. One participant who survived put it this way: “It’s unexplainable. When he announced it, it was sheer exhilaration. Then I had a moment where I thought, ‘I did it.’ It’s a life-changing experience. It puts things into perspective… you can move mountains if you really put your mind to it.”
So… there it is! Is anyone interested in enlisting in the 2012 Spartan Death Race? I don’t know; I’m considering it… I’ll be happy if I survive the registration process!!
For more information on The Spartan Death Race, visit the official web page at http://www.youmaydie.com/.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Carma’s Corner: Taming the Dragon
I have become slave to a dragon. Yes, I’m at the mercy of a dragon, and, trust me, this dragon is no Puff the magic dragon who lives by the sea and frolics in the autumn mist. No, this dragon is stubborn, ornery, and disruptive on bad days and understanding, cooperative, and a blessing on good days. But I never know when good or bad days will occur; I just wait and see for the dragon to reveal its daily attitude.
For the last 12 years, my life has revolved around this dragon; I live with it; I work with it, and I even socialize with it. By this point, the secret is probably becoming clearer that the dragon isn’t a fire-breathing, winged creature (although there are days when the dragon makes me breathe fire)—no, the dragon is found in my computer and is known as DragonDictate, or as I like to call the dragon, Princeton.
When I was a senior in high school, I was introduced to DragonDictate as I had lost all abilities in my hands. DragonDictate is a voice-activated computer program that can operate a computer via voice. Dictation appears as text on a computer screen, and voice commands are used to navigate the mouse and other functions of a computer—on good days, that is.
In the beginning, I’ll admit I was not one bit impressed with DragonDictate; it was much easier to tell someone else what needed to be typed. But I was assured DragonDictate only needed to be trained in order to follow my dictation and commands. Training was a rigorous 30,000 word vocabulary repeated three times. I laughed, wondering if DragonDictate would rule me, or if someday I would master it.
The first year of the relationship was frustrating, tiring, and slow. DragonDictate’s favorite word to print was “Princeton”—no matter what I said—it was always “Princeton”. Hence, I named DragonDictate, Princeton—the name has stuck for the last 12 years, although the dragon rarely feels the need to print its name anymore.
Today I have a love/hate relationship with Princeton. Some days I rule over Princeton, but the next day Princeton rudely reminds me that I’m not the master. Nonsense words appear on the page, and little to no commands are followed to operate the computer. On these bad days, I simply state, “Princeton has an attitude.”
Over the last couple weeks, I have been in basic training once again with Princeton—my fourth time in basic training. Computer problems caused issues with the voice activation program, which only leaves one option: repeating a 30,000 word vocabulary list. At this point, I’m in the “taming the dragon” phase, convincing it that cooperation is much easier. Even though training is tedious and time-consuming, I don’t mind doing it because the freedom and independence I receive from Princeton far outweighs the frustration.
I am thankful for Princeton because I know God is using it as a tool to allow me to be an active member in society. DragonDictate (Princeton) is more than just a voice-activated computer program to me; it’s one of the keys to show how God can use all people, even technology, for His glory. With God, all “dragons” can be tamed!
For the last 12 years, my life has revolved around this dragon; I live with it; I work with it, and I even socialize with it. By this point, the secret is probably becoming clearer that the dragon isn’t a fire-breathing, winged creature (although there are days when the dragon makes me breathe fire)—no, the dragon is found in my computer and is known as DragonDictate, or as I like to call the dragon, Princeton.
When I was a senior in high school, I was introduced to DragonDictate as I had lost all abilities in my hands. DragonDictate is a voice-activated computer program that can operate a computer via voice. Dictation appears as text on a computer screen, and voice commands are used to navigate the mouse and other functions of a computer—on good days, that is.
In the beginning, I’ll admit I was not one bit impressed with DragonDictate; it was much easier to tell someone else what needed to be typed. But I was assured DragonDictate only needed to be trained in order to follow my dictation and commands. Training was a rigorous 30,000 word vocabulary repeated three times. I laughed, wondering if DragonDictate would rule me, or if someday I would master it.
The first year of the relationship was frustrating, tiring, and slow. DragonDictate’s favorite word to print was “Princeton”—no matter what I said—it was always “Princeton”. Hence, I named DragonDictate, Princeton—the name has stuck for the last 12 years, although the dragon rarely feels the need to print its name anymore.
Today I have a love/hate relationship with Princeton. Some days I rule over Princeton, but the next day Princeton rudely reminds me that I’m not the master. Nonsense words appear on the page, and little to no commands are followed to operate the computer. On these bad days, I simply state, “Princeton has an attitude.”
Over the last couple weeks, I have been in basic training once again with Princeton—my fourth time in basic training. Computer problems caused issues with the voice activation program, which only leaves one option: repeating a 30,000 word vocabulary list. At this point, I’m in the “taming the dragon” phase, convincing it that cooperation is much easier. Even though training is tedious and time-consuming, I don’t mind doing it because the freedom and independence I receive from Princeton far outweighs the frustration.
I am thankful for Princeton because I know God is using it as a tool to allow me to be an active member in society. DragonDictate (Princeton) is more than just a voice-activated computer program to me; it’s one of the keys to show how God can use all people, even technology, for His glory. With God, all “dragons” can be tamed!
Carma’s Corner: May 1, 2011
An event to certainly go down in history—just like the fall of Hitler and Hussein—now the demise of Osama bin Laden. On Sunday, May 1, 2011, President Obama stated, “Tonight, I can report to the American people and to the world that the United States has conducted an operation that killed Osama bin Laden, the leader of al Qaeda, and a terrorist who’s responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children.” For nearly ten years, Americans have been awaiting and anticipating this statement—the declaration that justice had been served. The announcement of bin Laden’s death has erupted a host of responses from closure to vengeance to a renewed sense of patriotism.
As like many Americans, I feel a sense of patriotism and completeness welling within my being, but there is also another feeling growing each day—an unsettling feeling. It’s not that I don’t believe bin Laden deserved death; it’s not that I don’t think justice needed to be served, but I fear the sense of pride and celebration surrounding the death. Yes, America did accomplish what it set out to do—to oust the world of bin Laden’s tyranny. President Obama said, “… but tonight we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to. That is the story of our history.”
However, it’s important to remember “the story of our history” never comes without cost—irreplaceable costs of life. Bin Laden’s reign has tallied up countless deaths: 3,000 on September 11, 2001 and numerous others in the nearly 10 years of trying to capture him. None of these deaths were celebrated; no, in fact, I’m fairly confident that each life lost left a hole in someone’s heart. Lives are celebrated, not death.
I do believe the Navy Seals who carried out the mission to capture bin Laden dead or alive should be commended. Perhaps, America should redirect their celebration and joy from the death of one man to the dedication of the military to ensure America’s security. However, America’s ultimate security is found in God alone. God protected those Navy Seals as they landed and commenced their mission within bin Laden’s compound. May 1, 2011 apparently was God’s appointed time for vengeance to be delivered.
Celebrate freedom. Celebrate life. Celebrate God.
Martin Luther King Jr. summarizes my thoughts by stating, “I will mourn the loss of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”
As like many Americans, I feel a sense of patriotism and completeness welling within my being, but there is also another feeling growing each day—an unsettling feeling. It’s not that I don’t believe bin Laden deserved death; it’s not that I don’t think justice needed to be served, but I fear the sense of pride and celebration surrounding the death. Yes, America did accomplish what it set out to do—to oust the world of bin Laden’s tyranny. President Obama said, “… but tonight we are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to. That is the story of our history.”
However, it’s important to remember “the story of our history” never comes without cost—irreplaceable costs of life. Bin Laden’s reign has tallied up countless deaths: 3,000 on September 11, 2001 and numerous others in the nearly 10 years of trying to capture him. None of these deaths were celebrated; no, in fact, I’m fairly confident that each life lost left a hole in someone’s heart. Lives are celebrated, not death.
I do believe the Navy Seals who carried out the mission to capture bin Laden dead or alive should be commended. Perhaps, America should redirect their celebration and joy from the death of one man to the dedication of the military to ensure America’s security. However, America’s ultimate security is found in God alone. God protected those Navy Seals as they landed and commenced their mission within bin Laden’s compound. May 1, 2011 apparently was God’s appointed time for vengeance to be delivered.
Celebrate freedom. Celebrate life. Celebrate God.
Martin Luther King Jr. summarizes my thoughts by stating, “I will mourn the loss of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”
Carma’s Corner: Watching, Waiting, and Wonder
It’s happened. It didn’t go unnoticed. No, I dare say the event gained ever increasing popularity with each passing day, but the mounting attention and excitement was unbeknownst to the ones being watched. In fact, I would venture to guess the one being watched finds the event nothing more than an act of nature. But for the twenty-five million plus viewers, the event is a wonder of nature!
Somewhere in a tree near Decorah, IA, two bald eagles maintain their nest, care for their three offspring, and keep vigilance to ward off any potential predators—all in front of the camera. The live video feed has caused a flurry of followers, or perhaps peeps is a better word, to tune in several times a day to see what Mr. and Mrs. Eagle are doing.
Over the last few days, I have been among those peeps. I’ll admit the live video feed is not only intriguing, but also addicting. While I love watching the little eaglets eat, I’m most mesmerized by the dedication of the mother and father eagle. Hour after hour, one of them sits on the nest—watching their young and waiting for the change in shift. It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining, if the rain is pouring, if the wind is ruffling their feathers… one sits—the nest is never abandoned.
Since these eagles have caused such a stir and craze, I decided to do some research on these majestic creatures. Here are a few of the facts:
o Juvenile bald eagles are a mixture of brown and white. They reach full maturity in four to five years.
o The female bald eagle is 35 to 37 inches, slightly larger than the male.
o Bald eagles weigh from ten to fourteen pounds.
o Eagle bones are light because they are hollow.
o Today, there are an estimated 9, 769 breeding pairs bald eagles. They mate for life-until one dies.
o Bald eagles have 7,000 feathers.
o Bald eagles can lift about four pounds and mainly feed on fish and carrion (dead annals).
o Bald eagles can fly at approximately 30 miles per hour and can dive at 100 miles per hour.
o The wingspan of an eagle measures from 5.5 to 7.5 feet.
o Nests usually are built near the top of a large tree. Enlarged annually, a bald eagle nest can become the largest of any North American bird. The record nest measured 20 feet deep, 10 feet wide, and weighed two tons.
o At 10 to 12 weeks of age, eaglets are fully feathered, nearly full grown and can fly from the nest.
Reading these facts and watching the video, I can’t help but marvel at God’s masterful design of the eagle. Each feather, each character trait, and each physical attribute is specifically chosen for the eagle’s prosperity and posterity. No detail is superfluous or carelessly added; each facet holds an important role.
In the same way, God creates each human being individually and unique; he then waits and watches over his creation, just as the eagle. And I’m confident that when the time comes for the new little one to arrive in the world—God feels a sense of wonder because He knows He is the one who “fearfully and wonderfully made” that tiny being. He makes no mistakes; He makes no boo-boos; He only makes one-of-a-kind models.
I feel honored to witness the eagle family—yes, it has consumed quite a few minutes of my time over the last week, but I’ll continue to watch and wait… praising my God for this wonder of His creation!
Somewhere in a tree near Decorah, IA, two bald eagles maintain their nest, care for their three offspring, and keep vigilance to ward off any potential predators—all in front of the camera. The live video feed has caused a flurry of followers, or perhaps peeps is a better word, to tune in several times a day to see what Mr. and Mrs. Eagle are doing.
Over the last few days, I have been among those peeps. I’ll admit the live video feed is not only intriguing, but also addicting. While I love watching the little eaglets eat, I’m most mesmerized by the dedication of the mother and father eagle. Hour after hour, one of them sits on the nest—watching their young and waiting for the change in shift. It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining, if the rain is pouring, if the wind is ruffling their feathers… one sits—the nest is never abandoned.
Since these eagles have caused such a stir and craze, I decided to do some research on these majestic creatures. Here are a few of the facts:
o Juvenile bald eagles are a mixture of brown and white. They reach full maturity in four to five years.
o The female bald eagle is 35 to 37 inches, slightly larger than the male.
o Bald eagles weigh from ten to fourteen pounds.
o Eagle bones are light because they are hollow.
o Today, there are an estimated 9, 769 breeding pairs bald eagles. They mate for life-until one dies.
o Bald eagles have 7,000 feathers.
o Bald eagles can lift about four pounds and mainly feed on fish and carrion (dead annals).
o Bald eagles can fly at approximately 30 miles per hour and can dive at 100 miles per hour.
o The wingspan of an eagle measures from 5.5 to 7.5 feet.
o Nests usually are built near the top of a large tree. Enlarged annually, a bald eagle nest can become the largest of any North American bird. The record nest measured 20 feet deep, 10 feet wide, and weighed two tons.
o At 10 to 12 weeks of age, eaglets are fully feathered, nearly full grown and can fly from the nest.
Reading these facts and watching the video, I can’t help but marvel at God’s masterful design of the eagle. Each feather, each character trait, and each physical attribute is specifically chosen for the eagle’s prosperity and posterity. No detail is superfluous or carelessly added; each facet holds an important role.
In the same way, God creates each human being individually and unique; he then waits and watches over his creation, just as the eagle. And I’m confident that when the time comes for the new little one to arrive in the world—God feels a sense of wonder because He knows He is the one who “fearfully and wonderfully made” that tiny being. He makes no mistakes; He makes no boo-boos; He only makes one-of-a-kind models.
I feel honored to witness the eagle family—yes, it has consumed quite a few minutes of my time over the last week, but I’ll continue to watch and wait… praising my God for this wonder of His creation!
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