The law of club and fang

Life. It is a beautiful and terrible thing. Oftentimes you find that the terrible comes when you aren't guarded, when you trust too much in the wrong things, the wrong people. We are given a principle in Psalm 118:8, "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man." More up close, we are told to beware of the people that are close that we feel we should trust. Jeremiah 9:4 "Let everyone be on guard against his neighbor, And do not trust any brother; Because every brother deals craftily, And every neighbor goes about as a slanderer." (But don't forget Proverbs 27:6, "faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful are the kisses of an enemy"). In Jack London's The Call of the Wild, the burly St. Bernard-mix Buck is stolen from his pampered life as a beloved family dog in California and sold into a hellish existence of violence and servitude in the northern continent during the Klondike Gold Rush.  He went from a land of civilization - even his interactions with other dogs had its moral codes - to a life where kindness, courtesy, and fair-play were non-existent. He was kidnapped because his dealings with men prior to that event were always good; he was finessed by the gardener's apprentice. He had built a naive belief that humans were to be trusted; he found out otherwise as he was sold and exposed to never-before-known-to-him violence.

"Here was neither peace, nor rest, nor a moment's safety. All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb were in peril. There was imperative need to be constantly alert; for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men. They were savages, all of them, who knew no law but the law of club and fang."

Buck found himself beaten into compliance (but never submission!) by the man in the red sweater. He watched in horror as friendly Curly approaches a husky in a amiable way and has her face ripped open. As she responds to the attack, a pack of dogs surrounds her and takes her down. Buck never forgets her savage end, nor Spitz seeming to laugh at her demise. He cements his will against ever letting himself go down in a fight. Cruelty and violence have replaced fair play; he must adapt or meet a similar end.

"He had learned well the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage or drew back from a foe he had started on the way to Death. He had lessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time, he obeyed."

My tendency is to trust. To believe that deep down, people mean well. For years I had been in a rather insular life - homeschooling, homeschool groups, church, working with children in rec league. Here and there, I ran into an occasional bad apple, but for the most part I dealt with honest, moral, empathetic people. When I finished my degree and hit the work force when Erin was in high school, I discovered a different, wilder sort of world - but still manageable.  After all, I had a safe haven in Pat to come home to.  However, when Pat passed away 3 1/2 years ago, I began to discover the law of the club and fang in earnest.

My students have taught me the  pop culture understanding of being "finessed." They don't want anyone "finessing" them - saying one thing, doing another or manipulating them. When you  trust people to be honorable, to have good moral standards, to be ethical - it is easy to be finessed. Buck was finessed into taking a walk with Manual and wound up sold, beaten and dragged a thousand miles away. Buck was also finessed by a dog who appeared friendly but would snatch his dinner in a heartbeat. Most of us have met people who will lie, slander, whatever it takes to get ahead, to achieve preeminence.

The more I become acquainted with the law of the club and fang, I find that I get a deeper understanding of Kipling's "If--" The more I deal with its workings in the world, the clearer it becomes that it is at work in our own realms. I remember my father saying repeatedly that it is a "Dog eat dog" world. Since it is my father who introduced me to Jack London, this might be why the law of the club and fang strikes me so deeply. It would be easy, I think, to decide to play as dirty as you are played - but I believe there is a loving Father who would be saddened and shamed by that behavior. I know I've mentioned before how I clung to the "Filling the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run" line for years... Now other verses have been becoming more clear.

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise

My hope is to be able to be on guard like Buck without the need to resort to the cunning he use in snatching an extra morsel when the opportunity arose. It should always be in the goal to never be part of the pack that rips apart the fallen. It could be that finding your "pack," is the best way to operate in this dog-eat-dog world. Sadly, although Buck found trust and love with John Thornton, Skeet and Nig, the primitive never left him. This goes unfinished as a ponder the hows and whys of rising above after having been nipped by the fang and beat by the club.


*A side note: Kipling and London were contemporaries. While there seems to be such disparity in their inspirations, both witnessed the law of club and fang.  Kipling and his sister endured the torment and terror of childhood abuse in the hands of Mrs. Holloway  who boarded them while their parents were in India. "Often and often afterwards, the beloved Aunt would ask me why I had never told any one how I was being treated. Children tell little more than animals, for what comes to them they accept as eternally established. Also, badly-treated children have a clear notion of what they are likely to get if they betray the secrets of a prison-house before they are clear of it."

What the Dickens!

It is Christmas Day and it is the first Christmas since Pat passed away that I was not sad when I woke up. When my eyes opened this morning, my heart awoke with gratitude and joy. Home was occupied by just me, my two dogs, and my cat - yet I did not feel lonely at all. My spirit was not weighed down with a melancholy aching for Christmases past. The specters of fear and worry were nowhere in sight. Just a pure joy for the day and the Lord who made it.

The past few weeks have been hectic with this fortnight being particularly exhausting. It would be the first Dec 24th that I had to work. There was very little time between work and church - then I needed to get to the family gathering. The week before it even happened, I was worn out just thinking about it. But then, I watched A Muppet Christmas Carol with my students. I've seen this many, many times. I've seen many versions of A Christmas Carol more times than I could count. Yet once again, even this more playful version spoke to me.

In Dickens' book, Marley’s ghost says to Scrooge ‘’No space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused.’’ I began to look at working on the 24th as an opportunity. Not only did I get a lot done, but I played cornhole with the kids, enjoyed time with my fellow teachers, and had a great day.

On Sunday, my tearful prayer and the Lord's nudge to change my focus was rewarded with the beauty of His Light. He is the Light of the world - and as Michael Card sang, how can there be in darkness in me if He is that Light? He abides in me and I in Him.  Let that Light shine!  When I taught my yoga class on Monday night, my theme was joy - and indeed, the joy of the Lord is my strength.

I also realized that grief had me dwelling to much in the past on special days. I was burdened by old, beloved traditions that were not, could not be the same. It was like the weight of a heavy stone dragging my heart down.  But in a Christmas Carol, Scrooge learns and says, “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.’’ The past is only part of the equation of my life; it is to be looked at and learned from. It is not a place to wallow.

When I awoke this morning, it wasn't about me waking up alone; it wasn't about emptiness or the bustle of preparations... it was about the Good News. Jesus Christ came that we might have life and have it more abundantly!  John 1:4, "In Him was life, and that Light was the life of men." --And that waking up alone nonsense, I never felt less alone. Thus, I moved on through a day of laughter and love.  Merry Christmas - regarding the born-again Scrooge - “And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!’’

Facing anti-intellectualism? Don't apologize for being smart!

“By this method thousands of humans have been brought to think that humility means pretty women trying to believe they are ugly and clever men trying to believe they are fools. And since what they are trying to believe may, in some cases, be manifest nonsense, they cannot succeed in believing it and we have the chance of keeping their minds endlessly revolving on themselves in an effort to achieve the the impossible.” C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

I'm done apologizing for being smart. Why is it that if you are intelligent you constantly feel you have to dumb yourself down to be accepted by peers? Why is it that people are offended just because you know things? And why does knowing things get dismissed so readily with the insult that you are a know-it-all?

There is no crime in knowing many things. There is no need to pretend that you don't know many things. Chances are that if you know many things it happens that you are also very aware of the many things you do not know.  Quite possibly you will seek to know some of those things, too, because you are born with a deep-seated curiosity. There is a universe of things to know and there is zero fault in acquiring what you can.

There is also nothing wrong with sharing what you know, this, in spite, of the fact that there will be people who are intimidated by your brain power. If you have answers or input that conflicts with what they believe to be, you can expect to be considered arrogant - no matter how innocently you deliver your knowledge. SO BE IT.

I read a thread on Quora where a parent asked, "My 8 year old son has a 150 IQ, what should I do?" Someone answered to this effect, "Either coach him to dumb himself down so that he can be socially accepted OR allow him to think, dream, dare to use his gifts."   The first option is indeed a sad truth that many gifted folk feel is their best option in order to function within society.  Guess why? Because if you act smart, talk smart, daresay admit you are smart, you are perceived as a conceited braggart without ever even  bragging. Just by being.  Yes, just by being.

I remember being a teenager and being mortally embarrassed by the fact that I was in MENSA. I felt fearful that I would be made fun of, that it was a symptom of abnormality, or even something to be looked upon with as much disgust as if being accused of being a Nazi. We live in a sick world when something such as being born intellectually gifted isn't treated like a gift - while being gifted athletically is coveted. It took a long time to get away from those fears - many years in fact.

In the past year I've met some brilliant teens who felt misunderstood and had all those same fears thanks to a society that dislikes smart people. Whenever I meet a student like this, I do my best to encourage the thinking, the dreaming, the daring to use and appreciate the gift of brain power. I can't tell them that the stigma of high intelligence will go away, but I can tell them that just as "lions don't lose sleep over the opinions of sheep," they should not lose sleep over the insults or aversions of those who are intimidated by their gifts and seek to shame them for "knowing many things."

As for me, I'm 56 years old and I'm done being concerned with how my gift is perceived. God gave it to me and hopefully, I use it to glorify him. My daughters are highly intelligent. I see it in my grandchildren. My prayer is that they never, ever feel ashamed because of their hunger for knowledge and their ability to use it. As C.S. Lewis said, it is NOT humility to disavow the brains God gave you. SHINE.

When all blessings flow...

Praising God from Whom all blessings flow!  It has been a long, rough 2 years and 11 months since Pat passed away. I've had lots of experiences that have not always seemed like blessings but, surprise! They were.  Life is an intricate tapestry - you may not like mustard yellow thread, but once you stand back and see the beauty of the pattern, you realize that without the mustard yellow, it wouldn't be complete. I have to say that I don't know what else might be part of the design BUT right now I'm feeling the "WHEW!" and "WOW!" happy side of blessing.  I have a GOOD job with a pay that will meet all of my needs  and (can I say, FINALLY!) I have insurance again!

The job I've been chosen for is going to be challenging, but I'm trusting that the Lord will equip me. My co-workers are amazing - the vibe you get there is one of caring, one of empathy, one of team work and collaboration. Security and safety are the top priorities and with these  prevailing you can strive to do your best.

The hydra in me

"Fire feeds on obstacles," said Marcus Aurelius.  Ovid renarked, "Difficulty is what wakes up the genius." Chew on those a moment. The last few years I've felt like I've been climbing up a steep, rugged mountain, skinning my knees, stubbing my toes, and getting plenty of dirt under my fingernails and up my nose.  I can't say I was ever tempted to turn back - I think I knew that it wouldn't be a leisurely walk down, that it would be a slip-sliding, free-for-all with me winding up broken instead of simply battered. For me, trite as it sounds, there is only one way. Up. During this excursion, I've found myself wearily pulling up on a ledge, thinking I reached a milestone and could catch a break only to look up and see the end still far further than I had hoped OR even worse, got hit by an errant falling rock while catching my breath and nearly loosing the foothold. Still, there is no turning back and one certainly can't just "sit" and make half-way there some settled-for goal because there is a reason in every climb, even if it is just for the incredible view. There is something in knowing the success of effort, of clawing and scratching, the thick of a battle that makes victory much more rewarding.

Sometimes the climb and the struggle aren't to achieve a goal, but to stay on the right track in a world gone very wrong. 1 Corinthians 4:7-10 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." In that battle, it is awesomely satisfying to know that He is our fortress, He is our very present help in trouble.

In Greek mythology, Hercules is tasked to go and kill the Hydra. If you cut off the hydra's head, two grow back in its place. It is pretty much indomitable. Even after Hercules manages to find a way to "kill" it, it lives on when Hera places the Hydra in the sky, forever as a constellation. One existence ended and a new, better one endures. Instead of being a hated monster, hunted down, it lights the sky and provides beauty in that starry canopy. We are never given any insight into the character of the Hydra. It seems to me that its existence just annoyed other people and it used the defenses that it had to preserve its life. I love that it was equipped with the ability to keep coming back and that what was meant to hurt it made it more able to defend itself.  I know some would balk at using Greek mythology in describing a faith-based concept, but the trials that are put in our paths generally strength us and give us more tools to equip us for later battles.  I like that the Lord God put a bit of Hydra in me.

You can't always get what you want...

Three days. Three conversations with three different people. Three topics that seem different but somehow are all united, woven together by God. 

On Sunday Eddy changed my oil and put on new wiper blades for me We were talking about my pursuit of an ELA position for next school year (with me mourning the 2 1/2 years I wasted in a grief fog), the struggles I've had, etc, and the seeming endlessness of my quest for independent financial stability since Pat passed away. The upshot was that it has been clear all along that yes, yes, indeed, God *does* have a plan for my life and that I need to "stop kicking against the goads." An ox goad was a long stick with a pointed piece on the end which, in the hands of a loving master, would steer the animal on the right path. If the animal rebelled by kicking out again the goad, it embedded into its flesh. The more rebellious kicking, the deeper the goad went. Looking for short cuts, trying to get off the path God has planned and find an easier way, or just stubbornly trying to not go down that road... it doesn't work and just causes pain.  How much better it is to plow where the Master has set you.

The next conversation involved talking with my daughter, Erin, about relationships. I've jokingly had a "list" of what I believed I need; I was reminded of back when Pat and I were raising our little ones. If they got whiny about something we wouldn't let them have or do, we would both start singing, "You can't always get what you want, No, you can't always get what you want. You can't always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find, you get what you need." (This usually brought about a bit more wailing). Anyhow, in talking with my daughter I told her that I have to not expect my strengths to be shared but to learn to appreciate whatever those strengths were. Instead of being frustrated by not having the same love language, at least on my part, I can try to understand and accept the different language being communicated to me. (God already allowed me to see how someone could speak my language too well and be manipulative and deceitful). She reminded me that the Bible said to lean not on our OWN understanding, but in all of our ways to acknowledge Him, and how important it is to know what God knows as fact about us. How much we are loved; how worthy we are to Him. Maybe the list of things I thought I "needed" were really only "wants" and what I actually need is very different. Time to stop leaning on my own understanding. 

The final conversation was with a recently widowed friend. We were discussing our shared condition and she told me that she saw me as so strong and inspiring. Looking at myself, I don't see that - I see an awful lot of flailing mixed with a great deal of treading water. I told her about one thing I've been learning over the course of the past three years is to let go of my attempt to work things out my way and "to just be held."  You have to envision this: many times I'm like a two-year who wants to do my own thing. I see what I think I need or want and I pursue it. The Lord says, "No," and scoops me up.  There I am, the wild toddler, kicking, screaming and writhing in the parent's arms as I get carted off to where I need to be. It would be all so much easier if I relinquished my pretense at control. I can imagine God smiling at me and singing, "You can't always get what you want..." as He's saving me from the fire, flood, or whatever imminent danger that I'm blinded or otherwise oblivious to.  Whenever Casting Crowns' "Just Be Held" comes on the radio, it brings a tear to my eyes.  Okay, oxymoron time but THIS is what I'm striving for: Striving to be still.  Working toward releasing my death grip on my Daddy's arm and chilling in the knowledge of His strength, His love, and His purpose for me.

"So when you're on your knees and answers seem so far away
You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held
Your world's not falling apart, it's falling into place
I'm on the throne, stop holding on and just be held
Just be held, just be held"

Ruby red slippers

While one may feel that grief is like falling down a rabbit hole, losing a spouse to me is more like being sucked up into a vortex and set down in some unknown land.  All you want to do is get back to where you belong - and of course, to find that out, an adventure of discovery ensues. Two and a half years after Pat died, I just discovered that I was wearing ruby red slippers and had the power all along to get myself to where I needed to go.