Let's Get Halloween Under Control

First of all, it's the most senseless holiday. It's origin is somewhat shady and billions of trick-or-treaters are blissfully ignorant of how all this got started. The list of things wrong with this annual diabetes starter-kit goes on forever:

1. We have high school sophomores with no costume other than their sagging britches going door-to-door in a valiant attempt to satisfy their sugar craving.

2. Kids no longer say "thank you" when handed their candy. Solution? Chase them down, reach into their sack, grab a handful of candy bars and tell them they are ungrateful monsters.

3. Kids don't even say "trick or treat" anymore. They just stand there staring at you, assuming the onus is on the giver, not the receiver. Solution? Reach out with an empty closed fist, palm up, dip into their bag and thump the side - making it sound like you've dropped a Snickers in.

4. Parents are driving their kids to more affluent neighborhoods in a desperate attempt to get more and better results. There oughta be a law saying you have to stay in your neighborhood.

5. This year, the day after Labor Day, the grocery stores magically transformed entire aisles into orange and black Halloween corridors, somehow trying to get us into the mood for this most trivial of holidays. Mercy!

So I hereby appoint myself chairman of a new political action committee called "Help Arrange Retro-Style Halloweens". We will be known by the acronym "HARSH". Dues can be paid in cash, check, or Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Brady Doing Great

New grandson Brady had some hurdles to cross upon arrival last Friday. His lungs weren't quite ready for the big-time yet. He was disinterested in nursing at first. And there was just a bit of jaundice that required a couple of days under the lamp.

He spent a bit over four days in the NICU and today was moved to the "special" nursery. He will stay there through Friday (when his antibiotics are finished) and then will likely go home. He has been weaned off his oxygen help and has developed a strong interest in nursing. Jenny is recovering so quickly from her C-section that she's been driving twice a day to the hospital.

So, all we need are good pictures of the young man. Should be getting them soon and when I do, they will magically and quickly find their way to this blog, and will no doubt supplant the usual aviation picture that typically leads off all this wisdom. In summary, God has blessed us incredibly and many prayers have been answered thus far.

Welcome, Mr. Brady!

Coming to you from San Antonio, where grandchild #6 arrived at 2:40 this afternoon. He is Brady Thomas Perkins and he weighed in at 6 lbs., 7 oz. He had to be moved to NICU a bit later due to a lung issue, but at the moment it doesn't appear serious and the expectation is that he won't be there much longer than a day. Brett and Jenny were so hoping that this son would avoid the NICU since his two older brothers had extended stays there, but alas, it was not to be. Jenny is doing as well as can be expected after a c-section.

Brady's middle name has a bit of history. My great-grandfather on my father's side was Sam Thomas, and he was the postmaster of Aspermont, Texas. He was shot and killed at the post office one day by a man who was convinced Sam was messin' with his wife. I have the newspaper clipping at home that details the murder, and from what I can glean, Mr. Thomas was an extraordinarily well-respected citizen.

His daughter, my grandmother, was one of 7 sisters. She had only one child in her years, my father, and he was given the name of his grandfather and became Sam Thomas Perkins.

Young Brady Thomas has wonderful parents and I feel confident he will become a man as honorable as my father. Since I can't speak to the veracity of the murderer's claim way back in Aspermont, I'll hold off wishing Brady is just like his great-great-great grandfather...at least for now.

A disappearing backroad and a prayer...

Carole and I had one moment of panic on the trip to Vermont. We were heading north from the south-central part of the state, dropping in on quaint general stores and finding foliage that was eye-rollingly fantastic.

That morning, on a whim, we had turned onto a backroad that lured us with a canopy of gold and orange and yellow leaves arching over the packed-dirt surface. It turned out to be a marvelous decision, as soon we were being escorted through incredible beauty, the kind of stuff that we had come to see. At one point, we stopped the car in the middle of the road (there were no other cars - period) and stepped out. Carole said something to the effect of, "Just listen to the silence." It was as though we had somehow been granted five minutes in heaven, and we struggled to soak in stimuli that our senses couldn't handle, at least not in heavy doses like this.

Later that afternoon, we chanced upon another backroad and decided that it was worth another go. This one was similar to the first...totally isolated and overflowing with color. There were places where the trees had shed enough leaves that we couldn't see the road. But our GPS kept assuring us that this was indeed a real road that would eventually deposit us back on our original state road.

Several miles into this foray, the road suddenly inclined upward and became more rugged. Also, there was a narrowing of the road as the trees crowded in. Then, we reached a place where there was a dip, and the lowering was filled with mud and water. We stopped and discussed the situation. Putting the rental car in reverse and backing down the road until we could turn around was not a good option. The road was too rough and twisty, and it would be a nail-biter to try and look over your shoulder for two or three miles of backward driving. But we had no clue as to what lay ahead...the road had been getting progressively worse, and despite what was on the GPS screen, it seemed to be dwindling down to nothing. So we prayed.

Getting stuck here would have problematic to the max. It was already mid-afternoon and would get dark soon. We were on a road with no name. We kept going in and out of cellphone coverage. The few houses we had seen weren't really houses - they were rusty trailers, surrounded by weeds, cars on blocks, and angry-looking dogs. And we were Republicans in state filled with Democrats and gay activists. After praying, we switched seats. Carole had been driving and I had been navigating and manning the camera. I hoped that our car had front-wheel drive and decided to forge ahead. We eased into the dip and the car started sliding sideways...but never quit going forward. Within 10 seconds or so, we were clear of the quagmire. But then, up ahead, lay an even larger swampy, muddy pig sty in the road.

By now the die was cast. Nothing to do but plow forward. Mimicking the first mudhole, the car began slip-sliding again, but determinedly pulled forward. Bingo! Cleared it. But how long could we keep this up? Well, we never found out. Just a few feet past swamp #2, there was a small opening on the right side of the road...just enough, perhaps, to turn the car around and begin the process of extricating ourselves from a bad decision. I pulled forward, then backed into the spare opening. If I went too far, the rear wheels would slip off a fairly steep edge and there really would be trouble. I slipped the car into "Drive", the wheels spun for just a split-second, and then we were moving forward and downhill and toward our escape. We still had to navigate through the two sluice-pits, and the car tried going sideways again in each of them, but we made it.

For some crazy reason, the foliage was even prettier on the way back down the road. And all the way, both of kept saying aloud, over and over, "God is good. God is sooo good!"

Back from God's Wonderland

It would be hard to be an atheist after witnessing what we saw over the weekend. It has been a banner year for Vermont foliage and we got there right at the peak of the season. Most of the time, the sky was cloudy and misty, but that did not put a damper on the trees. Here are a few shots from the trip...and there are hundreds of others, trust me. Enjoy!

Ready, Set, Go

(Think those USAF pilots are any good?)

Well, Carole and I are mostly packed and ready to leave the house at 5:45 AM Thursday to head out to the airport. From there, we fly into Boston. Then pick up the rental car and immediately get away from the big city and head to Vermont. The weather forecast for the area could be better...Friday will be cloudy and showery...but Saturday is shaping up as a partly cloudy day, and all I'm asking for is a little sun sometime during the trip.

We will be in Wilmington, VT on Thursday night, St. Johnsbury, VT on Friday night, and Rochester, NH on Saturday night. All reports indicate that not only have we picked an extremely good foliage year, but we'll be arriving at peak color in most of the state of Vermont.

The last time I was in Vermont, I can't even remember what kind of camera I was using. That was 1997. Since then, I've discovered the amazing world of digital photography and the unbelievable instrument known as Photoshop. So I'll be prepared with the proper tools and equipment...and the foliage awaits. Time to get it on!

NDE's and LTP's

Ever since Dr. Raymond Moody's book came out in 1975 (Life after Life), I've been fascinated by near-death experiences. I think we all want to know details of what is on the other side of the curtain, and I believe Christians in particular want to check the living arrangements of their eternal home. It's just natural that those who believe more strongly in the afterlife would manifest greater curiosity than those who feel life is truly over with the last breath.

Carole cleaned out a closet last week and uncovered a book I had read a few years ago called Blessing in Disguise, written by an internist named Barbara Rommer. She has had a keen interest in NDE's because her father strongly hinted to her that he had experienced one; also, she lost a husband at a fairly young age. In her medical practice, she has frequently had patients who've volunteered information after an NDE. Her book, interestly enough, focuses on what she calls "LTP's", or "less than positive" NDE's.

Not every one who has a near-death experience finds it to be all glory and pleasure. A reasonable percentage find moments of difficulty and anguish. Dr. Rommer says that she has yet to interview anyone whose LTP was completely negative, however, because each LTP interviewee came away from the experience with at least some desire to make positive corrections in his or her life. Most are convinced they were allowed to resume earthly life in order to try and make amends for mistake made prior to their "near-death".

I don't buy into everything I have read about NDE's, simply because the Bible tells us that the road to heaven is rather narrow, and only a minority of folks are able to traverse this path successfully. But statistics indicate that a vast majority of NDE "experiencers" have a totally positive time when they're away from their physical body...it's all peace, joy, light, flowers, music, and banana pudding until they're told they are not quite ready for this wonderful new area and must return to earth. If nearly everyone is going to have their ticket punched, regardless of their acceptance of Christ as their savior, that kinda renders his sacrifice on the cross meaningless.

What gives veracity to these accounts, however, is the element of incredible knowledge these NDE'ers exhibit once they are revived. One gentleman interviewed by Rommer had traveled with his wife from his home in Florida to Milwaukee for open-heart surgery. He went into respiratory arrest and was clinically dead for thirty minutes - and was revived when the cardiac surgeon did an open heart massage, which was finally successful.

During this time, he found himself standing next to those who were trying to resuscitate him, and then he ascended to the top of the OR. He began wondering if his wife knew what was going on, whereupon he immediately found himself in the surgical waiting room where he found her on the phone, crying. Whatever he thought was immediately manifested, and he had sudden idea that he wanted to go home to Florida, and bingo, he was there. While there, he saw all the mail which had been taken in by the housekeeper, strewn all over the dining room table. He accurately described all of the letters, bills, junk mail, and the magazines. He was able to describe the housesitter's girlfriend in detail, a person he and wife did not even know existed prior to this incident. All he described was confirmed, of course.

And, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of similar stories where the "dead" person "returns" and is able to recount details which were impossible for him to know. That recurring element gives enormous validity to near-death experiences, and therein creates the conflict for the Christian I mentioned. If some of what these people report is accurate and, in fact, impossibly accurate, but then other elements of their stories don't jive with Biblical teaching, we have a conundrum. Of course, I will and must choose what God has said about the "narrow way". God has also told us that He wishes all could be saved, but that most will reject Him.

Dr. Rommel states that 9-15% of the NDE's are LTP, by the way. She interviewed over 300 "experiencers" for the book, the vast majority of which had never told anyone about their particular NDE before. I'm only about 40 pages in, so I better promise to post again after I've completed the book. Feel free to comment on this fascinating subject if you wish.

Ker-splat!

Since I'm adamantly anti-Obama and since I feel he's extremely dangerous to our country, and since I want everything he endorses to fail miserably, it brought me great joy to see that his and Michelle's backing of Chicago for the Summer Olympics utterly go down in flames today.

The Drudge Report said it best with their headline: "The Ego Has Landed!"

Hang on for a power surge...

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us...Eph. 3:20

Is there a more mind-boggling verse in the Bible? Or a more challenging one?

What would happen to our personal and corporate lives if we took God up on this promise? When I was a middle-school teacher, a common frustration was the student who fell into sort of a comfort zone, a zone marked by minimal thinking, ambition, and activity. Once settled in to this mental pothole, it was extremely hard to pry the kid out. If one had no goals or aspirations, it was fairly easy to accept failure.

It seems Paul is telling us that we should guard against low expectations and minimalist thinking when assessing our spiritual lives. In essence, we sell God short. A friend has pancreatic cancer and our thought process becomes, "Well, I'll just pray that God gives him comfort and peace in his final days." After all, almost no one recovers from that disease. Somehow we forget that God parted the Red Sea, healed Naaman, and fed thousands with a few leftovers. Why assume there are situations too hard for God?

We frequently settle for less is assessing our spiritual potential. We become a modern-day Moses, pleading with God not to give us something to do we can't handle and hoping He will find some Aaron out there to do our spiritual heavy lifting. Paul wants us to realize how we cheat ourselves (and Him) when we don't tap into the ultimate power supply. He wants us to think big and make big plans. He wants churches that dare to make challenging decisions, based not on what they can do, but what He can do.

Let's take God for his word here and expand our vistas. There's a lost world out there, one that seems to give Satan easy victories. The challenge is to realize that we are the extension cords, if you will, of God's unimaginable power, and to flip the switch!

Assassinating the King's English

The King's English is actually a book on grammar that was published in 1906 by a pair of brothers. Of course today, when one mentions "the King's English", it's usually a reference to long-ago times in England when proper use of the language was standard fare. Sadly, these kinds of references are more common now than ever before as shallow-thinking individuals wage daily war on our beautiful language.

Nowhere is this disturbing trend more evident than in names of stores and businesses, and the convenience store is particularly culpable. Around the Dallas area is a chain of 7-Eleven copycats called "Qwik-Mart". Let me ask the obvious question: does misspelling "Quick" bring in more customers? I really doubt that old Larry and Martha, driving down the thoroughfare, needing a loaf of bread, actually pick out "Qwik-Mart" over all the rest of the competition because of the cutesy way "Qwik" is spelled!

I visited Amarillo, Texas once and was immediately taken aback by a particular chain of stores named, "Toot 'N Totem". There are so many problems here, almost too many to mention. First of all, there's no consumer study that I'm aware of that points to greater consumer spending if you blatantly abbreviate "And" to the almost obscene "'N". And the use of a Northwestern American Indian icon like "totem" to substitute for "Tote Them" is a dastardly deed. The name of the stores should be, "Toot and Tote Them". On the other hand, the whole concept is lacking. The stores' business would probably grow if the place were simply named, "The Store".

This morning, I passed an apartment complex with the name of "Majic Apts". Again, was there a bean-counter in a Wall Street office who suggested to management that there would probably never be a vacancy if "magic" were spelled "majic"? I doubt it. It was no doubt some proprietor's crazy idea...thinking that "majic" added a little pizzazz to his otherwise roach-ridden apartments. So wrong!

Perhaps the most egregious treatment of the King's English is a chain of liquor stores in Dallas with the scalp-scratching name of "Bi-Lo". "Bi-Lo"!!!! Where do I begin? We all know "bi" has nothing to do with "buy", and, in fact, has other connotations that really confuse the issue. "Lo" is a wonderful word ("And lo, I am with you always, even to the ends of the earth"). But it has no use in the title of a liquor store! "Buy-Low" sends a clear, concise message, far different from the brain-scrambling, intellect-abusing "Bi-Lo".

I can only hope this country is strong enough to survive both Obama and deliberately misspelled convenience store names.

Itchin' for Vermont

Three weeks from today, Carole and I will visit heaven for the 6th time. But unlike Paul, I am able to tell you about it. I first became interested in Vermont after seeing some foliage shots in a 1970's-ish coffee-table book. I decided this was something I'd have to see for myself, but with three small kiddos and all the expenses that go with a young family, I didn't see it happening.

But in 1982, I entered a contest on KRLD radio that offered two round-trip tickets anywhere American Airlines flies. I flooded the station with entries and managed to win. So, it was off to Vermont with Carole for 5 days of chasing color throughout the state. Two years later, we went again and had the thrill of having our rental car break down on the quietest of backroads in the most gorgeous valley I'd ever seen. In '88, I won another contest but this time, only one free ticket was the prize. In an act of total selflessness, I left Carole at home and went solo to the Green (should be Orange) Mountain State. Twice more in the '90's, we took in Vermont's colors, once even sneaking Brooke out of high school to drag her along. She was not a believer until she saw for herself the incredible reds, golds, and oranges that make eyeballs ache and adjectives strain.

We were going to return in October of 2001, but 9/11 happened and the fear of flying was palpable enough to ground us and our trip. A couple of trips to British Columbia in '02 and '05 allowed us to see God's majesty in a different way, but Vermont keeps whispering to our subconscious and reminding us that there's gold in them thar hills.

The last time we went, I knew nothing about photography and had a very average camera. Now, I've got at least a modicum of picture-taking experience and, thanks to Al Gore, the opportunity to share pix via the 'net and this blog. Rest assured, a few of our shots will touch down on "Jets and Life". Hope you like 'em.

Okay, call off the conspirators...

First of all, kudos to Don Staib for the above picture. He's a buddy who flies for American Airlines, and he took this shot on Friday while flying the stormy skies over Texas.

Now, then. My previous blog entry focused on the folks who feel that 9/11 was an inside job and my worries that there might be some truth to their claims. Fortunately, last week I recorded a two-hour program on this topic, shown on the National Geographic Channel. Methodically, point-by-point, nearly every conspiratorial claim was intelligently debunked.

By far the most compelling point is simply this: in order for 9/11 to have been a coordinated plan fomented by the Bush-Cheney administration, thousands of "worker bees" would have had to been on board with the strategy - with each of them being counted to keep their lips sealed. It's been 8 years, and there's been nary a peep from anybody who claims to have part of the alleged conspiracy. It is simply impossible to believe that a plan so evil, so complex, so devilish, could have been carried out without someone, somewhere, yapping about their role in making those buildings fall down or in attacking the Pentagon.

A good point made by the program was that whenever our country has an incredibly major event, conspiracy theorists pop up. Pearl Harbor had them and the Kennedy assassination had them. This is no different. The good news is that Bush and Cheney are off the hook, as we all suspected. The bad guys really did pull off 9/11 and hopefully our vigilance prohibits a repeat performance.

Scared I'll believe it...

I've begun reading a book that puts forth the idea that 9/11 was not the doing of Bin Laden, but rather the work of conspirators in the Bush administration. Now before you laugh, let me warn you that I, too, believe the idea is preposterous. But so did the man who wrote the book, and then the more he researched it, the more he believed.

The reason why I want to see what he says is the impressive set of credentials he brings to the table. Dr. David Ray Griffin is professor of religion and theology, emeritus, at Claremont School of Theology in California, and has written 30 books dealing with history, theology, and other subjects. On page 14, he gives a partial list of others who believe the same, and the names would knock your socks off. Included are former CIA agents, diplomats, cabinet members, and other prominent citizens. These are folks who are trained to be discerning and are experienced in separating truth from chaff. They have lent their names and leveraged their credibility to this effort to get the real truth out.

I'm digging into the first chapter, which deals with the delay in scrambling our military jets to intercept the ill-fated airliners. We all know that all over America, we have planes and pilots in absolute readiness for situations just like 9/11. They practice this stuff constantly and can be counted upon to be in the air within 5 minutes of an alert. For some reason, there was little or no scrambling of jets on that day.

There is much more to get to and I shudder to think what I'm going to find. I hope that all the theories are flawed and that I can shoot easy holes in them. But so far, the weight of research and scholarship in the book is impressive. I'll report back when finished. Meanwhile, be sure look out for black helicopters...

About Revelation 21...

Seven or eight years ago, I was confident enough in my beliefs on the hereafter that I taught classes on heaven. Little did I know the massive turnaround that was coming. But I've done a lot of reading, particularly the works of Randy Alcorn, and not only do I have brand new eschatology ideas, but I'm considerably more excited about the prospects of the hereafter.

The change centers on the idea that there is no reason to think that Revelation 21 is meant to be symbolic and not literal. Heaven will be brought down (New Jerusalem) to the new earth. The new earth will be the same planet where we are now, only renewed...with everything evil, decayed, and rotten removed forever. God and Christ will rule this renewed earth and we will serve them. The reason I'm more pumped about this is the prospect of being in familiar environs that have been cleansed of the devil's influence.

There's a lot we don't know, of course. We'll have new bodies, but I don't know much more than that. Of course, we won't have marriage but I trust God to have a plan that let's us exist with our spouses in a way that will be superior to what we knew on this side of the curtain. We will serve God forever in ways that will be thrilling, rewarding, and perpetually fulfilling. Details are scarce, but that's okay. He tells us a little bit and faith fills in the rest of the picture.

One question I got a lot when I taught that class was, "What difference does it make?" I mean, should we devote a lot of time to ruminating on the hereafter? I think not only is it okay, but it should serve to motivate us and foster hope in our day-to-day lives. We all face discouragement, pain, and suffering...why not dwell on the promises of God that this is only temporary, and that glory will make today's troubles seems trivial? (see II Cor. 4:16-17).

One week in...

Well, the first week of school is in the books and things went swimmingly well. I had a fairly good group of girls last year, but there were four or five who insisted upon being late, loud, and littery. Amazingly, they're all gone. Transferred or moved. I'm left with about 40 girls who are well on their ways to being model citizens. They are unfailingly polite and poised, and from what I've already seen this week, seriously dedicated to academics.

But then, after all, this school is a leadership school for young women, as it says in the very name of the school. In case you're interested, the racial composition of my riders is about 60% Black and 40% Hispanic. Here is some interesting info from the school's website:

Seniors who have attended the school beginning their freshman year are guaranteed up to $12,000 for college if they meet the requirements of the Foundation for the Education of Young Women (FEYW) Scholarship, created by Lee Posey, founder of Palm Harbor Homes. The requirements include: applying for 2 scholarships per month, applying for financial aid, taking the SAT test by October of senior year. Also, students who apply to the school after their junior year will not be taken into consideration and students who have attended the school since sophomore year are only eligible to receive 75% of the amount. The scholarship is renewable for the first 4 years of a former Rangel student’s college education.

Mr. Posey passed away last year. The students were called into the auditorium at the end of the day and informed of his death. Many were very close to him and were visibly moved as they left the building. The next day, the entire student body and staff silently walked outside the school and released red and black balloons in his honor.

Monday, a new beginning...

My heart goes out to teachers everywhere tonight...since 36 times, I had to face the Sunday-night-before-the-first-Monday-of-school feelings. I hated it. I hated everything about the opening of school. I never got comfortable until I got the students (and bus riders) trained to my way of doing things. And that didn't occur until early October. Then a natural flow of the day would commence as both kids and I developed a comfort level with each other.

Now all I do is drive a school bus full of talented and gifted girls to their leadership school, and it's an absolute snap. No quivering stomach, no lesson plans, nothing to do but concentrate on driving the yellowhound safely. And that is a big item. I never forget that I've got 40-45 precious children on board, children who mean everything to their parents just as my kids do to me. So I pray about safety every day...not just about protecting my riders, but in making sure that huge hunk of iron I drive doesn't ruin anybody else's day, too.

I also hope (and pray) that I can toss a little sunshine into the path of a kid or two on days when they're down. Since I spend a lot of time with them, it's fairly easy to pick up on when they are upset, depressed, sick, or worn down by life. All of us can remember a teacher (or maybe even a bus driver) who took the time to cheer us up on a blue day and get us to smile a bit. I'm in the unique position of seeing the kids twice a day, and often they board the bus in the morning upset with something at home - or hop aboard in the afternoon after a tough school day. There is a lot I can't undo...but there is a little I can do, and I pray to be alert and wise enough to recognize opportunities and then to say precisely the right thing. It pretty much has to be a Holy Spirit operation, since I am totally unable to craft the correct words on my own.

So let's get started. I have 15,000 miles ahead of me between tomorrow and the end of the school year!

Concerning Josh Hamilton...

It was a kick to the gut when I saw the news that Josh had a night of indiscretion last January. I bought his book, Beyond Belief, and was amazed at the depth of his drug-induced spiral downward. It took a grandmother's love, a wife's commitment, and the power of God to resurrect Josh and give him not only a chance to survive, but to return to the baseball field and play again.

If one lives long enough, he will inevitably discover that a Christian friend who was thought to be devout and strong has nonetheless been unfaithful to a spouse or involved in a business scandal or some other colorful downfall. It never ceases to hurt and hurt a lot. When it's Christian public figure who trangresses and gets caught, it's bothersome because you know cynics will use that opportunity to trot out the "hypocrite" label and gleefully poke fun at Christians everywhere. We yearn for those famous believers to be perfect at all times and show the world that there is a better way.

The problem, obviously, is that we all sin and we tend to sin a lot. And the Bible does very little in the way of sin classification. Little white lies are sins as are murders and mutilating innocent animals. Apparently Christ's blood is thick enough and strong enough to eradicate sins at both ends of the shock value spectrum. God was no doubt as disappointed with whatever it was that I did wrong today as he was with what went on in that Phoenix tavern with Josh. And since Josh was totally repentent, just as I am for my unpublicized sins today, the amazing purification power of grace has rendered us both pure and spotless in God's eyes. I've got to make sure that I'm just as disgusted with my transgressions as I am with Mr. Hamilton's.

Why We're Behind

I just finished the book Outliers, one of the more fascinating tomes I've read. One of the chapters deals with why Asian students achieve more than American kids. Part of the reason for this is the Asian culture, one that emphasize hard work and determination. Millions of these children are raised in the rice patties and there's a saying among the rice farmers that one will be rich if one works 360 days a year and gets up before dawn. A bit different from most American households.

But there's another reason for the Asians' academic superiority - the amount of time spent in school each year. Here in the U.S., kids average about 180 school days per annum and have about 3 months off in the summer, something that dates back to when this country was mainly agrarian and children were needed in the fields. Those days are over but the tradition remains. And Americans, both young and old, would really protest losing that block of free time that we've all grown fond of.

Asian kids pretty much go to school year 'round. They average 220-260 school days a year. School is as valued a part of their culture as video games are in ours. But their success on tests is not a racial thing. In the U.S., in schools where longer school days and longer school years have been instituted, scores have shot through the roof. The students adjust to the stricter standards and develop all sorts new self-discipline. When they get home from school, they do homework, an idea that is getting increasingly farfetched in the U.S.

Now we all know that all work and no play can create a warped world for a child. We don't want to rob children of the joy and play that kids are supposed to experience. But it sure seems like American schools could split the difference and maybe knock a month and a half off the summer break. Could it happen? Very doubtful. Parents, teachers, kids, and, ahem, school bus drivers would be beyond furious. The tourist industry would scream bloody murder. And personally, even as a retired teacher who would be only marginally affected by such a change, I would grimace over giving up a few precious weeks of summer.

I guess it all comes down to how badly the country wants to succeed. And in America, the majority of folks have no problem anymore with less-than-stellar schools.

Back to work, kinda

Tomorrow, I report for a two-hour bus driver meeting. It's kind of like being awakened by having a bucket of cold water thrown in your face. Summer has gently pulled me into an attitude and lifestyle of near-complacency. Go to bed when I wanna, get up when I wanna, do what Carole asks me to do when I wanna :).

After the meeting, I'll still have nearly two weeks before school starts. And as I've stated before, the mental attitude of a school bus driver is much different from that of a teacher this time of year. The teacher has to get mentally ready for the stress and exhaustion that goes with the territory. You practically have to get your "game-face" on. But all I have to do is remind myself of how important it is to be safe behind the wheel. And about how precious the cargo is.

I'm just real fortunate to be doing something I enjoy doing. What a blessing!

Wrestling with the Angel

Frankly, most days I struggle with two trains going in opposite directions: grace and effort. I am completely aware that Ephesians 2:8 assures us that we are saved by grace through faith. I am a baptized believer. But I can't get it out of my cranium that there is a line drawn on a sheet of paper in heaven and that my performance as a human looks like a lie-detector needle as it jerks back and forth across that line.

Why is this? Is it because of some sort of Americanized work ethic that's been drummed into me since I was 6 years old? Is it the hangover of legalistic preaching I grew up with that really did think salvation was attainable through maximum effort? And is it avoidable?

It's like I can't internalize what God is telling me. I consider all my failings and repeatedly come to the conclusion that I'm lukewarm. And we all know what happens to the lukewarm Christian. I can extricate myself from this depressing feeling by reading about grace or hearing a grace-based sermon. But sooner or later, I'm back chasing that line again. I'm like Paul, who contemplated all he left undone or unsaid and pronounced himself miserable.

The paradox of this is that when asked if I'm saved or not, I firmly answer in the affirmative. One part of my brain accepts what the shed blood of Jesus has bought for me. But as far as the day-to-day attitude I start each morning with, it's "you better start earning the gift that has been handed you."

Anybody want to chime in on this conundrum?