Welcome!

Hi to all who are making their first visit to this site. Since the recent downsizing of Riverbend's bulletin, I've missed the chance to write my column each week. So I've decided to post a new column online every week, right here. In addition, you'll find just about every column I've ever written, all archived here for your perusal. Since my book, Shiny Spots in the Rust, is currently out of print, this is the only place you can see all this stuff...and it's free! I hope you find something that inspires, amuses or soothes you. Feel free to share the link with others and feel free to leave your comments. See you same time next week?

The Old Garage Mystery…

I was eleven, living in a town of fewer than 800 people. My friend and I could ride our bikes anywhere in town with no fear, no helmets, and —frequently—no shoes. Our town lacked sidewalks and curbs and I can’t even remember if there were stop signs at every corner or not. In the summer we could ride for hours, starring in movies of our own design. One day we stopped at an empty house. The garage didn’t even have a door and the garage floor was just caliche dirt. We poked around the deserted carport until we found a small, rusty knife...with something red on the blade.
Since I’d read all the Hardy Boys mysteries the bookmobile had, I knew immediately that foul play had occurred in our little town and it was up to us to solve the crime. We sat on the swingset in my backyard, talking about what to do next. Maybe it was Nazis? Or aliens? Or the Capone mob?
My mom heard us through the open kitchen window and quickly put an end to our mystery-solving. My dad pronounced that the knife had been used to stir a can of red paint. End of story, much too soon. My mystery was shattered.
See, I like mysteries. I don’t mean reading mystery books; I mean that I like the fact that there are things I don’t know and can’t explain. J.J. Abrams, creator of LOST and director of the new Star Trek, tells a great story. He was an amateur magician as a boy and his grandfather was always buying him new tricks to learn. One day, grandpa brought a cardboard box with a large question mark on the side. It was one of those “grab bag” gimmicks, where you’d get $25 worth of stuff for only five bucks...but you didn’t know what you were getting. The cool part of the story is this: J.J. never opened the box. He says his success as a writer and director is due in large part to the realization that he loved the mystery more than he could love what was actually in the box.
I don’t know why certain things happen in life. I don’t understand how God can be three persons in one. I, too, question why it seems the wrong people die and the wrong people prosper. But it’s okay.
I don’t need to understand God...which is good, because I can’t! I’m relieved that I don’t have to make His decisions, keep His hours, check off His “to-do” list. I’m at peace knowing that He moves in mysterious ways...to me.
But they’re not mysterious to Him.