Part II: Denver Bound! Sort of.

(Read Part I here.)



7:30pm  Flight 6296 to Denver finally boards.  Everything is déjà vu as we find our seats, stow our carry-ons, buckle up.  My seatmate and I greet each other with a second "hello."  If we have to do this a third time it will be very awkward indeed.

7:50pm  Take-off!  Movement!  The feeling of lifting off the ground and going somewhere!


8:00pm  My seatmate takes out a book to read.  I am intrigued by the title—something about the psychological effects of music.  When I inquire, Tom says he is a casual musician.  He plays guitar and mandolin in some local bands back in Pittsburgh.  Though he has always played rock, the last few years Tom's been exploring acoustic music: Celtic, Americana, even classical.  It is not often I get the pleasure of discussing the resurgence of American roots music; I put away my own book in favor of the conversation.

9:00pm  The captain announces we're landing... in Grand Junction?  There are thunderstorms in Denver and when we tried to land, we were diverted.  Denver is on the east side of the Rocky Mountains, Grand Junction on the west.  We have essentially taken two steps forward and one step back.

9:10pm  We land at the poky Grand Junction, Colorado airport, along with a couple other diverted planes.  Passengers are not allowed to deplane as we refuel and wait for weather to clear around Denver. 

9:20pm  Tom asks what I studied in college.  From past experience, I fear that when I say "Bible and Theology," he will either give an awkward "Oh.  I see," and immediately change the subject, or poke me with an elbow and say knowingly, "Oh, so you're a preacher!"  Nevertheless, I answer his question, and Tom's enthusiastic response astounds me: "That's perfect!  I've been wanting someone to explain the Bible to me."

Suddenly, I am not tired anymore.  I don't care if I never see Denver or feel circulation in the lower half of my body again.  This is the beginning of an hours-long off-and-on conversation with Tom about Bible history, church denominations and individual spirituality.  I am all too happy to share with him my trust in the death and resurrection of the God-man, Jesus Christ, to pay my sin debt, guarantee my home in heaven and give me joy and victory in the meanwhile.

Tom soaks it all up.  He, as it turns out, has placed his own faith in Christ for salvation, but he has never been encouraged to grow in his walk with God.  He has been attending a certain denomination since childhood that is heavy on tradition but light on Bible teaching.  "What I don't get," he shakes his head, "is why my priest never opens up a Bible and just reads from it, or tells us to read it.  I mean, isn't Christianity all about the Bible?"  Yes, it absolutely is, I affirm.  "Maybe..." he says slowly, "Maybe I need to look for another church."  I love it when the Holy Spirit makes a realization "click" for someone without my having to spell it out!  We talk about what to look for in a good church, about the centricity of accurate, practical and compassionate preaching of God's word.  He has a buddy, he tells me, who has told him the same things.  (Hurrah for Philadelphia-Christian-Guy who was faithful to speak truth in love to his friend!)  Praying: "Wow, Lord.  You have given me something much better than an on-time flight.  You have dropped right in my lap a chance to share my faith and encourage another believer.  You are good and all Your ways are good."


Coming up next: Part III, including more thwarted travel plans and the afore-promised and all-important bag of pretzels.

Part I: United We Wait

Most people have a horror story to tell about air travel.  Until a couple weeks ago, I had none.  But June 11 (and 12) took me through an outrageous string of events while trying to travel a mere 2 states away.  This is the first installment of my attempt to chronicle the bumps and blessings of that very long, very bizarre experience.

1:00pm  Kind friends drop me off at Salt Lake City International Airport.  I bid them a cheerful goodbye, blissfully ignorant of the tumultuous 32 hours ahead of me.

2:20pm  I board United flight 6296 to Denver.  Still planning to be in Wichita, Kansas by 7:30pm and at my folks' house by 10:00.

3:10pm  Still sitting at the gate.  The captain announces that the hydraulic is leaking into the engine and this aircraft is not air-worthy.  We 60-or-so passengers deplane and return to our gate in the airport.  Praying: "Father, thank You for protecting us from a mechanical breakdown in the air.  But, um, I'd really like to get home."  (If nothing else, I am a candid pray-er.)

3:15pm  I call my parents with the news, catching them just before leaving on the 2.5-hour drive to Wichita.  They have no cell phone.  They would have gone all the way to the airport before finding out I am still sitting in Salt Lake.  Praying: "Thank You for sparing Mom and Dad a wasted trip.  Now isn't there a Bible verse You could show them about the necessity of cell phones?"

3:25pm  I begin to wait in line for the customer service desk by the gate.  A Frenchman in an incongruous red plaid jacket is in front of me; he's trying to get to Europe for business.  A Denver guy is behind me.  He complains that he might be late to watching the Rockies trounce the Twins in Denver.  I try to act sympathetic even though I was raised a Minnesota fan.

4:00pm  Still waiting in line, and no closer to the desk.  Commenting on the relatively peaceful passengers, despite United's lack of action or answers, French Guy says, "People are so nice here.  In France, we would have had a revolution by now."  I tell him, "A revolution sounds good.  You lead us.  I've got tweezers, and we'll find somebody who smuggled in a fingernail clipper or two."  He declines and edges away from me.  Later I realize I could probably have been arrested if someone reported me for saying that.  Praying: "Thanks, God, for protecting me from my own stupidity."

4:30pm  I decide to try checking out of the secure area and getting help at the ticket counter.  When I arrive, the line seems slightly shorter there, so I stay.

5:15pm  This line is not moving, either.  Like not at all.  I read my book while standing.

6:05pm  I agonize over the decision whether to stay in this line or return to the original one at the gate.  I do not want to miss any announcements at the gate, so I go through security again and head back to the gate.  The TSA agent says, "Oh, weren't you through here a few hours ago...?"  I force a smile and nod.

6:15pm  United announces that they have "found another aircraft" for Flight 6296.  What, an airplane was hiding?  A jet had been overlooked like a misplaced penny?  Right-o.  There is no announcement of when the aircraft will arrive and when we will board.  It is 7:15 Central; I should be buckling up for a smooth landing in Wichita.

6:45pm  W-a-i-t-i-n-g.  Haven't eaten since noon, but nervous to leave the gate area and miss the flight when the plane finally arrives.  Praying: "Lord, I have no idea what's going on, but You're in control.  Open my eyes to opportunities to please You even though this pretty much stinks."  I knew He'd do it, but I'm still amazed at the extent.

Coming up next... Part II, including the opportunity God gave me, more bumps and blessings, and a bag of pretzels.

What Heroes Wear (or, The Death of Cynicism)

His name is Joseph Woodruff and he spends his days wearing a navy vest, standing behind a ticket counter for Frontier Airlines in Kansas City International Airport.  And he is my hero.

I was trying to get back to Utah on Monday.  The plan: parents drop me off in Kansas City on their way home from Minnesota to Kansas; fly to Salt Lake City after a short layover in Denver; be home and taking a long hot shower by 9:00 that evening.  It was going to be a quick, hassle-free trip.  Also, braces are fun and Obama cuts taxes.

My flight to Denver had been delayed.  I was going to miss my connection to Salt Lake City.  I would have to spend the night either in Kansas City or Denver, and hope to reach Utah some time the next day.  Or I could fly standby with no guarantee of ever getting home.  Joseph informed me of these unpleasant facts in a sympathetic tone.  None of these options would get me back in time for work the next morning.  Besides, I was travel-weary and frustrated and homesick.

Joseph read my mind.  "You just want to get home.  I'll tell you what, we're going to beat the system and get you there."  He tapped away on his keyboard.  He scribbled notes.  He made phone calls.  He muttered and grunted and scratched his head.  For forty minutes.

Once he glanced up and said, "Don't give up hope.  I'm determined to be your hero."  Hero?  Previous experience (which I shall relate elsewhere) with air travel personnel had rendered me a cynic.  But when he casually propped up a foot after making this statement, it was a black cowboy boot that stuck out under his uniform slacks.  That changed everything.  Everyone knows that heroes wear cowboy boots.  Hope was revived.

He tapped some more at his computer.  The sound had a lulling effect.  By now I had been standing in one spot for almost an hour; I was tired and my legs were stiff.  I imagined myself swooning across the stainless steel luggage scale.  Joseph Woodruff would reach out his tanned, notably ringless hands and catch me.  He would fan my face with a ticket stub and say, "Forget your flight.  I'll drive you to Utah.  We'll take my white truck with the horse trailer.  A palomino for each of us.  I've always wanted to see the West.  We'll read Tennyson by moonlight, the sky a diamond-studded velvet canvas stretching over the rugged mountaintop where we lie—"

Reality check.  It was a perfectly plausible scenario until that last word.  No man who wears cowboy boots knows the correct usage of "lie" versus "lay."  (If you are the exception to this rule, and single, and at least moderately wealthy, please contact me immediately.)

No swoons or palominos or impeccable verb conjugation took place after all.  But something even better did: after an hour, I walked away with a ticket to get home to Utah yet that night, via another airline.

I don't know how he did it, but he beat the system.  He broke all the unwritten laws of airline "customer service": he truly served a customer with patience, determination, humor and humanity, at the cost of his own company's profit.  I am a cynic no longer.  Joseph Woodruff, you are my hero.  I kneel to kiss the pointy toes of your cowboy boots.

Can You Believe I Live Here? A Photo Essay

One of my all-time favorite posts is "I Can't Believe I Work Here: A Photo Essay," from a couple years ago.  I had a blast putting that together.  Well, here's a sequel.  Not quite so humorous, but every bit as extraordinary as purple walls and caving ceilings--to those outside Utah, that is.  Those of you who have spent some time here will not be surprised at all, though you may find cause to think again about something you've grown accustomed to seeing.

It's always hard to describe to "outsiders" how dominant the LDS (Mormon) culture is here in the Provo area.  Where words fail, pictures may succeed.  So, on a recent bargain-hunting excursion to Savers thrift store, I happened to have my camera along, and on the spur of the moment decided to capture some images from Mormonland.  Here's what I came up with.

1.  Decorative stack of books, including three of the four considered inspired Scripture by the LDS Church.  A nice touch to any mantlepiece in Utah Valley.

2.  A couple quintessential wall decorations for any Mormon family: a picture of a temple (the Jordan River Utah Temple is my best guess), and a child's mirror framed with, "I am a child of God and he loves me."

3.  A popular portrait print of the Prophet Joseph Smith, founder of the LDS Church.

4.  And then there are the kindly faces of the modern-day prophets.

5.  "Strong Testimonies Are Reachable"!  Incidentally, I just typed "testimony" in the Google search bar of my browser and 9 of the top 10 phrases that came up were references to the LDS usage of the term.  It's a very Mormonish word.  Also, notice the Halloween decoration.  Halloween is The Holiday here; bigger than Easter and Thanksgiving put together, maybe even on the same plane as Christmas.

6.  A framed verse from Doctrine and Covenants (or "D&C" if you're in the know), complete with hand pressed wildflowers.

7.  "'Choose the Right'--it's more than a hymn title, more than a slogan.  It's the only path to happiness.  L. Tom Perry."  He's an apostle in the LDS Church, and "choose the right" is a popular motto, especially among youth.  "CTR" appears on rings, ties, bumper stickers, you name it.  I'll admit, it's a whole lot easier to rattle off than "WWJD?" but pretty sure Allen Iverson isn't sporting a CTR wristband.

8.  And since we're on an acronym kick, here are a couple LDS DVDs, OK?  The bottom one is from aging Mormon boy band Jericho Road.  If nothing else, they win cool band name points.

9.  And lastly... there were plenty of Mormon Tabernacle Choir (or Mo-Tab) tapes, CDs and records to be found.  But I selected this one because of its ironic placement on top of a Weird Al cassette-- never know what you'll find at a thrift store!  Although in Utah Valley, there are some pretty safe guesses, and as you can see, they all have to do with Mormonism.

Of Starchy Tubers

Sweet potatoes and yams are two different things.

This is the sort of thing an ignorant Midwesterner learns when eating lunch with Kentucky friends at an Applebee's where the manager recognizes them as fellow Southerners and wastes no time in bringing out a slice of decadent sweet potato pie he crafted himself.

Yams are more red and less stringy.  The best sweet potato pie is actually made out of yams; who woulda thunk it?  Next those Southerners will tell me that shoofly pie does not contain shoes and flies.

Cowley's Poem; Christ's Passion

How shall I grasp this boundless thing?
What shall I play? what shall I sing?
I'll sing the mighty riddle of mysterious love,
Which neither wretched men below, nor blessed spirits above
With all their comments can explain;
How all the Whole World's Life to die did not disdain.

From "Christ's Passion" by Abraham Cowley (1618-1667)

Viewing the Cross from Mount Moriah

Is there a more gripping story than Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah?

Read Genesis 22.  Though the narrative comes across very matter-of-fact, these fourteen verses document one of the most horrifying stories in all of Scripture.  Horrifying and beautiful—and staggering in its implications.  There are compelling lessons to be drawn from it on faith and obedience, for starters.

In the context of this Easter season, however, the ancient account takes on deeper meaning. Watch this video, listen to this song... and ponder: a Father "who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all" (Romans 8:32).

So I ask again: is there a more gripping story than Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah?

Yes; it is that of God the Father and God the Son on Mount Golgotha.

(What's the big deal about Jesus dying on the cross?  Watch this video.)

Sunday Drive

I took a lovely Sunday afternoon drive, around Utah Lake.  Here are a couple of the sweeping vistas I enjoyed.  You win a special prize if you can spot the "Y" on the mountain side above Provo and BYU, in the first photo.  It's white so it blends in with the snow, but don't be fooled.  (Click each photo to zoom in and get the full panorama.)

PXGK6X6Z9BFE

Post-Health Care Reform Resolutions

Love, love, love this.

Post-Health Care Reform Resolutions (from George Grant, via Chris Fabry).

1.  Pray more. 1 Thessalonians 5:17
2.  Listen first. James 1:19
3.  Work harder. Colossians 3:23
4.  Serve others. Galatians 6:9
5.  Defend life. Proverbs 24:11-12
6.  Grumble less. James 5:9
7.  Do justice. Amos 5:24
8.  Love mercy. Micah 6:8
9.  Walk humbly. Proverbs 15:33
10.  Rejoice always. 1 Thessalonians 5:16
11.  Trust Jesus. Revelation 19:6

Care if I share about health care and health share?

There is one good thing about the health care bill passed yesterday.  Yes, you read that correctly.  No, I've not gone stark raving mad.  And no, tomorrow I'm not going to announce that purple bunnies populate Saturn.  As hard as it is to believe, hear me out on this one.

There is a built-in protection for people like me, as explained here:

The health care bill that was passed Sunday night by the U.S. House of Representatives, often referred to as the Senate bill, contains a provision that exempts members of health care sharing ministries from the bill’s requirement for individuals to purchase health insurance. This is the bill that is awaiting the President’s signature. We are continuing to watch the reconciliation process, an effort to make changes to the Senate bill after the President signs it, for anything that would take away this exemption. Please be in prayer.  --Samaritan Ministries email "Health care bill update," 3/22/10.

The "House version" didn't contain this provision, and for a while it looked like I would be forced to purchase health insurance against my will.  Thankfully, the Senate bill—as it stands now—will allow me to continue uninsured, as a member of Samaritan Ministries Christian Health Care Newsletter program.

A former post tells a bit about why I chose to terminate my health insurance and go the "sharing" way instead.  If you are a born-again Christian, I urge you to prayerfully consider doing likewise.

Virtues of a health care sharing ministry include:
>>  Low deductibles and low monthly cost.  Mine are $300 and $120, respectively.
>>  You and you only decide where to get the best care.
>>  No such thing as "out-of-network."  Every provider loves self-pays!
>>  Many providers cut costs and grant discounts when they learn you are part of such a refreshingly non-bureaucratic way of paying your bills.
>>  Shares go directly to meet another's needs.  I heard today that $1 out of every $4 paid by an insured patient simply funds the bureaucracy of his insurance company.
>>  No (unintentional) funding of unbiblical behavior.  Every member of CHCN pledges to and provides references for Christian conduct: no smoking, immorality; limited or no alcohol.
>>  No (unintentional) funding of bad corporate sponsorships.  Did you know, for example, Aetna, Cigna and Blue Cross Blue Shield all proudly underwrite, with their members' dollars, the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce?
>>  Besides receiving checks for your medical expenses directly from other members, you receive cards and personal notes.  No insurance company does that.
>>  There's no medicine like the prayers of hundreds of other believers for you by name.

Remember, I write this as 1) a Christian striving to live biblically and 2) a worker in the the health care industry; but not as a person with any health needs (yet—thank God) beyond the occasional minor sickness or superficial injury, and not as someone whose employer provides insurance benefits.

Maybe it's not for everyone.  Maybe there are situations when Christians should legitimately choose an independent health insurance policy instead of health care sharing.  I can't think of any.  But I invite feedback as we navigate this scary world of 21st century American health care together.

Euphonium and I

I just returned from a concert by the Utah Premiere Brass, titled, "UPB Goes West."  As gallant as "The Magnificent Seven" theme was, and as toe-tapping as Copland's "Hoedown," it was the hauntingly sweet euphonium solo on "Shenandoah" that stole my heart.  So what's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself in love with a conical-bore brass instrument? Why, write a poem, of course.

(It's better if you read it aloud.)

Euphonium, euphoria--
Oh hallelujah, gloria!

Euphonium, you fill me up,
You floor me then you soar me up.

Euphonium, euphoria--

Oh hallelujah, gloria!

Euphonium, you for me hum;
You've blown me one, you own me some.

Euphonium, euphoria--

Oh hallelujah, gloria!

Killer Questions

My antenna is always up for ways and means to engage people of another worldview in meaningful, non-confrontational conversation.  In case yours is too, I thought I would pass along a terrific resource from Jeff Myers of Bryan College and Summit Ministries, by way of Sue Bohlin at Probe Ministries.

Four "killer questions" to help anyone think critically:
What do you mean by that?  (In other words, define your terms.)
Where do you get your information?
How do you know that's true?
What if you're wrong?

To understand how these questions work, read Sue's excellent article here.

My hunch is that these four "killer questions" have the potential to revolutionize how you interact with someone from another belief system.  What I wouldn't have done to have them in my arsenal four years ago when moving to Utah!  Like Sue wrote, "Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do for people is gently shake up their presuppositions and invite them to think."

Note #1: Probe Ministries has an outstanding 12-minute podcast, in case you're not able to catch the program on KEYY weekdays 4:25 a.m. and 4:44 p.m. (MST).
Note #2: Researching her article led me to discover not only is Sue Bohlin a great writer/thinker/speaker, but a calligrapher to boot.  Feast your eyes on some of her beautiful work here.

MaKe iT COuNT, #3: Southwest Goes South

For the first two MaKe iT COuNT posts, I highlighted a couple ideas for "buycotts", businesses that deserve your patronage.  From what I've seen, they are shining examples of positive, moral corporate sponsorship.  The good news: there are more like them (stay tuned)!  The bad news: there are plenty of immoral corporate sponsorships out there, too.

Planned Parenthood and the ACLU do a good job of hiding their underwriters, but the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce proudly display a long list on their website.

Levi Strauss & Co... PepsiCo... Hilton... Marriott...  I was not surprised to find these, given their abysmal track record on upholding traditional American values.

But I was very disappointed to discover Southwest Airlines listed as well.  Turns out, they have a whole "Gay Travel" page, boasting "We are proud to support, celebrate & serve the GLBT community [...] by featuring wonderful gay-friendly destinations, events, and special offers [...]"

Boycott?  I'm not sure.  Think twice?  Definitely.

Where/how/when you spend--or don't spend--your money matters. MaKe iT COuNT.

In Memoriam

In memoriam of the 52,008,665 American persons aborted since 1973,
the smiles they never brought,
the love they never received nor gave,
the cures for diseases they never discovered,
the social justice and humanity they never fought for,
the books they never wrote,
the masterpieces they never painted,
the inherent value of their lives never recognized,
their God-given potential never realized.

MaKe iT COuNT, #2: Nifty Thrift

You can support local charities, positively affect the environment and save money--all in a trip to your local thrift store.

Mine is Savers of Orem.  When I shop there (often), a portion of what I spend supports the Friends of National Multiple Sclerosis Society of Utah.  That's good.  Reducing solid waste?  Great.  Finding a mint-condition Paul Simon LP for 75¢?  Now that's what I'm talking about.

Bonus: you can empty your closet's contents and fill it up again at the same place.  Last I checked, you can't leave a box of sweaters at Old Navy's back door before buying a new one.

Where/how/when you spend your money matters. MaKe iT COuNT.

MaKe iT COuNT, #1: May Your Lobbys Increase

Kudos to arts and crafts retailer Hobby Lobby for ads like this one, placed in hundreds of newspapers every Christmas, Easter and Independence Day since 1997.

Lend a hearty "amen" to the message of their ads by shopping your local Hobby Lobby. Or shop online the next time you need holiday decs, picture frames or scrapbook supplies.

Where/how/when you spend your money matters. MaKe iT COuNT.

Christmas Eve

Great indeed, we confess,

is the mystery of godliness:

God was manifest in the flesh,

justified in the Spirit,

seen of angels,

preached unto the Gentiles,

believed on in the world,

received up into glory.

I Timothy 3:16

Have a JOY-filled Christmas.

Behold the Lamb of God

Here's what I would do, if I were you.  I would take about 30 minutes on Christmas Eve, grab a mug of hot cocoa, curl up, and listen to this.

In fact, I'll be doing it even though I'm not you.

It's a song cycle written by Andrew Peterson, and Christmas is at its heart. Take another look at "the Christmas story" you thought you knew so well.

God bless your quiet reflection on the old, old story of Redemption.  May it never lose its luster to you.

Eye Candy...er, Cookies

There's nothing that says Merry Christmas like a Snellen Chart cookie. (That's a little optical industry humor. I can do that now that I'm an honest-to-goodness certified optician--woot!--see previous post.)

I broke out the cookie cutters and lard earlier this week and whipped up a big batch of cookies for a cookie exchange and a few gifts. The eye chart was for my boss. He's an optometrist, in case that's not obvious. In fact, that's him in the upper left corner. The resemblance is pretty remarkable if I do say so myself. But then I have an eye for that sort of thing (more optical humor).

I PASSED!

A big thank you to all of you who prayed for me to pass the American Board of Opticianry National Opticianry Competency Examination!  Just a few minutes ago I found out I passed.  Praise God from whom all blessings flow!