A Little Mother-Son Mischief

Today was the last full day that my children and grandchildren will be with us on Sanibel Island. It has been a wonderful time with bonus days with both MP and Marshall. On the rare years that they leave before us, we all feel a bit sad. It is so hard to leave the beach on the last day. Marshall and I were the last to come in and we were both in tears.

For several days there was a giant inflatable duck wedged between a trash can and the fence around the condo pool. This morning, a gentleman who works at the condo said that he was going to put the duck in the trash and asked if we would like to play with it. Well, certainly no one in their right mind would turn down a giant, smiley duck. The grandchildren had great fun jumping on, riding, and fighting over the duck. He was a huge hit.

Later in the day, we congregated at the beach and someone suggested that the duck might be fun in the gulf. The boys joyfully went together to retrieve him from the pool deck. There was a mighty wind blowing and a means for hanging on to the duck was needed. Earlier in the week, Violet had discovered a vine about twenty feet long. She had used it to rig a trap in her effort to capture a seagull. Chasing them with a small fish net proved futile so a well-planned trap made up of a hole dug in the sand covered by a small plastic wagon attached to the vine was devised. Bread was used to lure the birds to the trap, but she was unsuccessful in catching a seagull, thank goodness. I’m fairly certain that we all would have freaked out had she been successful.

When the giant inflatable duck was brought to the beach on this most windy day, Violet’s vine was put to good use again. The boys thought riding the waves on the duck would be fun so Simeon attached the vine to the duck and then tried to stake it in the sand. This arrangement was set up to keep Max safe while in the water. The stake came loose, the waves flipped the duck, Max fell off and it was decided that riding the duck in the surf was not much fun. Violet then used the vine as a string to fly the duck as a kite, and actually at one point the wind caught it and it did, for a brief moment, behave very much like a kite. The duck provided much entertainment, but one by one everybody decided to call it a day and headed back to their respective condos.

MP and Violet were packing up when it became necessary to make a decision about the duck’s future.  He was tethered to MP’s chair by Violet’s vine because, as has been said, the wind was tremendous. MP asked what should be done with the duck, and I replied, “let’s just let the duck go.” Marshall was shocked, minimally, truth be told, that his mother would make such a suggestion. The duck being let loose to fly as he may seemed a much better end than a condo employee throwing him in the trash. Besides, think of the spectacle of a giant, yellow duck flying end over end over the sand. It was going to be great...and it was! I mean that duck was free, flying down the beach, big ol’ smile on his face, passing folks as he joyfully flew over the sand, when way down the beach, just as the duck was happily about to hit the water there came a man running out of the sea oats across the beach to rescue the duck. Marshall and I watched (MP had already left unwilling to witness the folly of our poor decision to let the duck go) with trepidation and curiosity. What would the man do with the captured duck?

From our vantage point it seemed as though the man and the woman with whom he had been walking a dog were trying to figure out what do now that the man had captured the duck. During the consultation the woman sort of threw her hands in the air as if to say, “I don’t know.”  The man struggled with the giant duck trying to somehow weigh him down so he would stay put. It has been mentioned that the wind was tremendous. There was nothing nearby to aid the man in holding the duck down. To our horror, it appeared that the man had come to a decision and it looked as though he intended to carry the duck down the beach inquiring of each person along the way if the duck belonged to them. It was only a matter of time before he got to us. Marshall and I had to make a decision. When asked, do we say, “it’s not our duck,” which technically was true but very much felt like a lie. I even, not proudly, thought about saying that we had also seen the duck flying down the beach, but again, not exactly honest. So, we did the only thing we knew to do, we somewhat rapidly got up, picked up our stuff and walked off the beach before the Good Samaritan could get to us to inquire about any knowledge we might have concerning the duck. We were crying...with laughter.

I really hope that duck found a good home and I hope that man did not walk all the way to the end of the island trying to find the rightful owner. One thing I do know, that duck brought, and his story will continue to bring great joy to this mother and her son. It ranks right up there with the day we set gunpowder off in every room of our house. Now, that was amazing!

For Whom Shall We Pray?

If you live in Nashville, you certainly heard about the terrible tragedy of the stabbing deaths of Clayton Beathard and Paul Trapeni III.  It was a heart-breaking tragedy that just did not need to be.  Prayers have been offered on behalf of each of these families by many they know and by those of us who have not and probably will not ever meet them.  Scenes of the joy in anticipation of their being home for Christmas break and their presence at family gatherings turned to the deep sadness of unopened gifts that will never be used, worn, nor eaten.  Holiday gatherings turned into funeral services. Lives ended before they really got started.  Dreams that will never be realized. It is too much to comprehend. And, so we pray comfort on them.

There is a third boy, for yes, 21 and 22 year olds are still boys, who will forever bear visible and invisible scars from that devastation.  He will close his eyes in an effort to sleep but find himself reliving the chaos and pain of that night, the loss of two friends.  It is all a nightmare. And, so we pray peace and rest for him.

Their families find peace in their faith.  They believe and trust that their sons are in their true home with their true Father.  It is the only way such grief can be borne, the only way they can put one foot in front of the other.  And, so we pray a constant awareness of God's presence and attention.

Michael Mosley is the boy who has been arrested for wielding the knife.  He spent his Christmas alone in a house in Cheatham County.  Whether drugs or alcohol or childhood abuse or whatever was the driving force that brought him to that place and those deeds may not matter.  There are consequences.  Perhaps, all involved might have been spared this tragedy if this boy had been held more accountable four years ago after he was involved in a similar incident, one that did not result in a death.  Perhaps, it would have made no difference at all.  I have self-proclaimed Jesus loving friends who were gleeful when this boy was arrested and made statements like, "I hope they burn his a$$" and "he's going to get his in prison."  Is this what we pray?  Perhaps, he and we would benefit more if we pray redemption, not retribution on this boy who has ruined his own life, taken the life of two, and wrecked countless others who love him and loved them.  Perhaps, by praying for him and his family as well as the Beathards and Trapenis, we grow a bit closer to the nature of that Jesus we so righteously proclaim.