The Overcoat

I was small when the creature came to my older sister. He was a sneaky little thing, sometimes looking like a man, sometimes like a demon. When he came to my sister that first night so many years ago, he had held out an overcoat, encouraging my sister to put it on. The first time he did it, she balked at him. “That's not my coat,” she argued. “It's not even my size.”

“This coat has a magic to it,” he said. “It will adjust to whoever puts it on. Try it and see,” the creature said.

I stayed hidden under the bed, wondering if she'd try it on. I could see my sister's tiny brain wheels struggling to spin. If this was a trick she'd avoid it, not wanting to be duped. But if she could gain something like magic, that would give her power to inflict trouble on me, her younger sister, then she'd do it in a heartbeat.

The creature suddenly changed his tactic. “Okay,” he said. “Just touch the coat, feel the fabric. I promise you'll find it to be familiar to you. You'll recognize it, like an old friend.”

At this my sister jumped. She's always been a sucker for part way commitments; a way to dip your toes in the water without fully jumping in. I watched my sister lay the coat over her lap and close her eyes. Her fingers pressed down and stroked the fabric. Soon she was touching it like she was patting the arm of a relative. The little creature was right, my sister recognized something. She identified with the coat. Within minutes she was slipping her arms through and tightening the coat around her.

I wanted to smack my head against the floorboard I was lying on. I never would have been so stupid to have fallen for his tricks. I was the pragmatic one, but that day I witnessed the magic with my own two eyes. I saw that coat suddenly contort and shrink to fit my sister's body perfectly. The creature did a little dance when it happened. Then he was gone, not gone like when someone exits, but gone as in he vanished instantly. He had vaporized! Lucky for me I was lying down on the floor already because otherwise I would have fainted.

Unfortunately, I couldn't hold back the gasp that came hurling out my mouth. That's when my sister discovered me. She had been dancing around the room just like the creature had done when she heard me. She bent down in the direction of the bed and looked at me with a face red with fury. Before I could even flinch she had gotten a hold of my right foot and yanked my body out from its hiding spot. I cringed as my bony pelvic bone was dragged across the uneven floor boards.

“Why are you spying on me?!” she demanded. “How much have you seen?”

I stood, both hands pressed on my pelvis, looking at her. I was trembling, trying to process just how much I should confess to. Before I could get any words out, her hand came at my cheek with a hammering thud. Then a barrage of words came out her mouth as she shoved me up against the back wall. The anger and contempt oozing from her was surprising but eerily familiar. Then I knew...it was mother! It was mother's anger; it was mother's words just tumbled around in a slightly different order.

“Take it off,” I screamed. “Take the coat off!” I grabbed at the sleeve to help her while she was struggling to free herself from its clutches. The coat itself was resisting the shedding. The more we pulled, the harder the coat fastened itself around her.

My sister's eyes grew wide with fear. In utter panic we combined our strength and determination to pry her free. Together, we threw the coat across the room and we both stood there motionless, each of us a bundle of raw nerves. From the corner of the room the overcoat turned once again back into the large oversized coat that it was before.

My sister and I looked in horror as we observed this. “Is it living?” I asked.

“It's powerful, familiar and oddly comfortable,” she said. “You try it,” she urged. “See what happens to you.”

“No,” I shouted. “I don't trust it.”

“I'm not surprised,” she said with a smirk. “You've always been afraid of power.”

“I..am..n..not,” I stammered. “I'm just not stupid. I'm not going to trust what that creepy little thing says. Didn't you look into his eyes?”

Of course I knew that she hadn't. She never looked at anything. She listened, and she navigated her world by what she heard and perceived to be true, what she wanted to hear. I was the owl. Always watching what others have missed. The owl is the silent observer. You don't know he's there, able to rotate his head and see everything. I always look into people's eyes. Eyes are the truest window that exists. I trust that more than words any day. Words can be slick and slippery, but eyes can never lie.

“Look at what that coat did to you. You attacked me. It was like Mom in one of her rages!” I said.

“How dare you!” she retorted. “Don't accuse me of being like Mom. You're just jealous because it gave me power. You're jealous because the creature chose me and not you.”

At that, we both marched out of the room and off to separate corners of the house. But both our minds could not steer away from pondering all that had happened.

Unbeknownst to me, my sister returned to that coat many more times. She befriended the creature, who claimed he had no name. She always wore the coat when she was with him and she listened to all his instructions. She deemed him to be the wisest of all her friends. But I remained skeptical. I had seen enough in his eyes to be wary, but now he'd claimed to have no name and that was the nail in the coffin for me. He'd never win me over. Why my sister couldn't see the red flags, I don't know. From where I was standing they were practically swatting her in the face. And she calls me the stupid one!

Eventually my sister was able to summon the creature whenever she wanted him. This gave her a great feeling of power, as she viewed him as an indentured servant who answered to her beck and call.

I'm convinced this was all part of his scheme. While she thought she was calling the shots, in actuality she was the mouse being toyed with.

Over time the coat became so comfortable and so familiar that my sister never wanted to take it off.It was then that the creature did his grandest trick of all. He made the coat invisible. I watched the whole thing with one eye peeking out an opening in the bed-covers. It happened late at night. He had come to her with the coat neatly folded like a package. He helped her into it and she fastened the buttons and tightened it's belt. “Close your eyes, my dear,” he said. “I'm about to make the coat yours forever.” My sister grinned and closed her eyes. My eyes were now both wide open and watching in horror as the creature walked around my sister several times muttering something under his breath while waving his arms like a drunken conductor. And I swear to you that I did not blink...I saw that coat become invisible!

“The coat is now part of you forever,” he said. “It can never be taken from you. You will always be surrounded by a great power. You don't need me anymore,” No Name continued. “You only need to listen to yourself. You will discover the depth of your own wisdom.” With that, No Name vanished once and for all.

I could see a great pride that was filling my sister's head. She strutted around the room in her invisible coat like she was walking the red carpet. Meanwhile, I found myself shaking in my bed. Fear had me by the throat, while dread had seized my bones. I laid there recounting what the creature had told her. I tried to imagine my sister as a well of wisdom, but in fact she was a mere puddle of impulse.

Surely the creature must have known this. So I then concluded that he was a great liar. I watched my sister for a moment as I shuddered to think of power in the hands of such a rash imbecile.

Seasons came and went in our well weathered farmhouse. The old two by fours of the house weren't strong enough to keep out the winds of change, and my sister and I grew from childhood into adults. It was as adults that the difference between us was the starkest. My sister became angrier and more violent over the years. The particular vices that she had, came to define her. She seemed to be disappearing while her vices appeared to be taking on a life of their own. Though the coat was fully invisible, it now seemed to be the embodiment of who my sister was. My sister was becoming more shadowy, a mere ghost of her former self.

As an adult I stayed away from my sister and her destructive ways. Yet I always struggled to to make sense of the mystery of all that had happened in the bedroom in our little farmhouse back so many years ago.

I never disbelieved all that had happened with the overcoat back in our childhood, but as an adult I grew to not expect the unusual, the unexplainable anymore until...well, it happened again. The unexpected burst through my walls of sensibility and swept me up into it once again.

Spring had come like an emerald jewel on Mother Nature's hand. I spent much time roaming the orchards and woods out back of my property. It was there in the orchard where a gentle wind came one day. It danced around me as it whispered in my ear. At first I thought I'd imagined the voice. It was gentle and soft, almost easy to dismiss, but when it spoke again, it said my name. Suddenly, two hands came out from the wind and touched my eyes. It was then that I saw her, the one to whom the voice belonged. She was unimaginably beautiful. Everything about her was serene and billowy. Her gown flowed all around her. Her hair was a symphony of movement as it swirled through the air.

I blinked, strained my eyes harder trying to convince myself that I wasn't looking through her. I began to question my judgment. Was I dreaming this, going crazy, hallucinating? I had been stressed lately. My sister was terminally sick and she was making hell for all of us, in spite of our kindness towards her. Dealing with her had become near impossible.

The woman must have read my mind, for she interrupted my thoughts. “My name is Wisdom,” she said. “And yes, you can see through me. I'm very much like a wind that can blow through a university classroom or through the heart of a child. I can come soft and gentle like a summer breeze or I can come like a tornado uprooting the handiwork of ignorance.”

Wisdom now had my full attention as we strolled through the orchard. Her voice was melodic and soothing. She was like a balm on an unattended wound. I instantly felt calm. But just as I relaxed, her demeanor sharply changed. Her voice became serious; she grabbed my shoulders and looked at me with blazing eyes.

“I must speak to you about the overcoat,” she said. “I know full well about the creature and your sister's involvement with him. Your sister's time upon this earth is almost over. When she is gone the creature will come to you. He will apply a far more clever and cunning plan to trick you into taking the coat. You see, he must keep the coat going in the family line for generation upon generation. His trickery has gotten better over the years. He will present the coat to you in a manner that you will not recognize. He's gotten better at subtlety.”

“He's gotten wise,” I said offhandedly.

Wisdom's face grew stern. “Never call him wise again in my presence! There is no piece of me coursing through his veins. He is crafty and evil. He has rejected me long ago. Now he lives completely in his own folly. That is why he has no name; he lost it! He was born with a name, and a noble one at that, but by rejecting Wisdom and my sister Truth he became his worst traits. Eventually, he lost his very person-hood and became a creature of the night, left to roam the earth forever and tempt others to succumb to their own vices, and thus lose themselves in the process.”

“I don't understand it, Wisdom,” I said. “Why did the coat have so much power? What did it do to my sister?” I pleaded.

“Do you not see it, my child?,” she said. “Aren't your eyes fully opened? You yourself said your sister was like your mother once she put the coat on. Don't you see what it is?” With this she put her hands across my eyes for the second time. This time Wisdom flowed into me and I could see it clearly now.

Wisdom spoke with a clear and serious tone. “The coat is called the family coat of dysfunction. Look at it through my eyes and see it through the lens of me,” she said.

Suddenly, I saw the coat. It was black, not like NY fashionable black, but hellish black, as in the lack of color and beauty. It's sleeves were long to hide shame from its wearer's eyes, to keep them in self denial. It was long to hide much evil doing. Its belt was to tighten around its owner so to eventually choke the life out of them. Its darkness was a symbol of what they'd become once given over to their vices—a no name creature of the night.

Now it all made perfect sense. This is why I shuddered in fear in the creature's presence. I must have had a piece of Wisdom in my heart so long ago.

“Please don't be angry with me for asking this question, Wisdom,” I said. “But, I just have to know. In the end, who is stronger—wisdom or evil? I have seen evil's great power many times and I've always felt powerless in it's grip.” My other question, which I kept to myself, was whether Wisdom had a garment that she bestowed on her followers.

Wisdom once again read my mind. She turned to me and said, “No, I offer no overcoat. I am the garment. Most who follow me begin the journey naked in their folly and I clothe them with wisdom along the way. I ask only that they point their feet in my direction and I take care of the rest.

Instantly, I turned myself fully in her direction. With that she blew on me and said, “Now, for your other question. I will just show you the answer.” A gentle breeze blew around me that was soft and delicate. It tickled the hair around my face, but then it changed and became stronger. It shook the trees in the orchard, causing all of nature to submit to it. A moment later the wind became violent and it overcame all that was in her path.

Wisdom told me to grab the hem of her gown, and when I did she flew with me hanging on, like she was an angel which was heaven bound. But, mid-air she swelled and became larger and more magnificent so I could no longer make out that of a female form. A glory filled the space around her which kept spreading out till it encompassed all that was in its path.

I was barely breathing at this point. My mind hardly able to take it all in. Something was emanating from wisdom which was filling the world. Without warning, Wisdom's dress swelled into the body of a great white Stallion, upon which I now sat. She then carried me back down to the earth with a power stronger than the earth's elements. We rode like thunder. From the Stallion's back I could see that whatever it was that was emanating out from Wisdom was overtaking everything which wasn't wise.

The creatures of the night were being pushed further and further back till they were gone. For a moment I remembered all those years ago when I trembled underneath my bed feeling so powerless. I had just a crumb of wisdom in my heart back then, but, here I was now, riding off in glory, a participant in the fullness of Wisdom and all the Truth and Beauty that came with her.

“What do you think now?,” said Wisdom. I smiled as I gripped her neck for all I was worth. It was this day that I set my face like flint in her direction and determined that I would never look back. Little did I know the weight that came from that decision. In an instant I saw the overcoat out of the corner of my eye and it was flying straight towards me at an unbelievable speed. Suddenly it hit what seemed to be an invisible barrier, and then as if it were stuffed with lead, it fell to the ground, sinking and burning a deep hole into the earth where it landed.

“You did well,” whispered Wisdom. “You are following me with your whole being. Some follow only partially , or for their own selfish gain. This leaves them unprotected from the coat. But you have let me flow through all of you, your will, your heart, and your mind. You truly desired my full company without pondering your own ambition. When No Name attempted to try and blindside you with it, have it hit you unaware, it couldn't touch you. Your choice to follow me had such weight that it provided a boundary line which neither the coat nor the creature could cross. The coat hit the barrier and fell to the earth with the heaviness of defeat.

I looked at the newly formed hole in the earth, knowing the coat was now buried in the bowels beneath, never to bother me again. Wisdom smiled and grabbed my hand as she placed something in it.She told me to sprinkle it over the opening where the coat now lay. As I did, an oak tree sprung up in the spot along with a garden of wildflowers.

“That's another thing you should know about me,” said Wisdom. “I can grow good things out of the soil of evil. The creatures of the night have no power like that.

I suddenly realized what she meant. The power my sister had in the coat was power for evil's sake. It was for harm and not for good. But the power Wisdom offered overwhelmed evil and left only goodness in its path. Even one seed of Wisdom in someone's heart was greater than all the power within the coat.

Wisdom and I walked around the beautiful oak and enjoyed the garden when she noticed I was sleepy. “You should rest,” she told me. “Lie down by the tree and get the slumber you need.”

I did sleep by the tree that day and I returned to it every day thereafter. I continued to spend my days among the orchards and wildflowers, enjoying a life which was full, with a heart which remained unburdened. My pursuit of Wisdom remained constant over the passage of time.

As the years bore on, the hairs on my head turned silver and my heart grew weak. Wisdom undoubtedly knew of my frailty because when she returned to me, in this my elder years, she did so with ease and gentleness. It was like the acquaintance of an old and dear friend. This time I recognized her by her voice, her guise did not fool me one bit. I had walked with her now for so many years that I knew her many faces and saw her handiwork in many places,but it was always her voice which my heart knew most. She and I walked slowly through the orchards as we spoke of many things.

At one point, like she had so many years ago, she turned to me with a change in her demeanor and became quite serious. “Today you will rest once again by the old oak tree you've grown to love,” she said. “But this time you will not arise from your slumber. Your body will be discovered by your children and you will be put to rest in your beloved orchard.” I knew in my bones the truth of what she was telling me. I did not fear, but felt such gratitude for the many years which I had lived.

“Thank you Wisdom,” I said. “It all has been most wonderful and I shall miss you.”

“Miss me?” Wisdom laughed. “I forget that there is still so much you humans do not know. This sleep that you will now have is not the end. Just like the oak that sprung from the earth so many years ago, you too will arise from the ashes of this life, only to find a more beautiful you. A new chapter is beginning. Sleep now, my dear friend, for much awaits us, and I do mean much!”

At that I found myself hardly able to keep my eyes open. I lowered myself to the ground and laid underneath the protection of the great oak. Once again Wisdom appeared as a finely dressed woman. Though my eyes were closed and I was unable to see her, I recognized the finery of her gown as it swished by me and once again I instinctively reached out for her hem. And sure enough, she was right...but that my friend is a whole other story.

You Can't Handle the Truth!

It is 9/11 tomorrow. One certainly can't go through this day without some reflection. When I stop to think about the events of that day I naturally think about the topic of suffering, suffering on a big scale, not just that event but the suffering that takes place in every city, every country, in every life.

For many people the question is-- if there is a God then why so much suffering? There are many fine philosophers who have tackled this question, Alvin Plantinga, being one of my favorites. But on a personal level I have found myself thinking about this from a slightly different angle then before.

My summer reading included many stories of great suffering. In each of these stories some of the people lived and others perished. We usually resort to asking the question why did so and so have to die. Why didn't God spare them? This summer I found myself asking why did God grant that this person survive? I've begun to think that we view our lives with an attitude of entitlement. We believe in our core that we are entitled to life. But truly, life is a gift to us from the creator. When he has stepped in and spared our lives it is a gift that should fill us with great thankfulness. Whether we live or whether we die it is all in His hands. That is something I have no doubt of.

This summer I also heard two amazing personal life stories. One story involved a family who survived a Japanese concentration camp in Indonesia. The other story was that of a Vermont farm family who endured the deaths of several of their children, accidents, health issues and financial troubles. Both of these stories had a theme of a very strong prayer life running through them. This time when I listened to the concentration camp stories I found myself not asking why God had allowed many of His own to perish in there but being thankful in the fact that He allowed some to live through it. It is in no way saying that some were more deserving than others, or that God looked more favorably on this person over that one, but it is an example of unexplainable grace. That sometimes God in his love and mercy does not allow the lion to open his mouth and devour His child, or not allow the fiery furnace to consume. Sometimes, even in the horrors of concentration camps, or events like 9/11, some have been spared in rather miraculous ways. I believe in some small way it is one way that God keeps reminding us that yes, He is still present and yes, He is still in charge. It also serves as a reminder of what lies in store for His children in the end. In the end there will be life eternal. There will be complete healing. But for now He gives us glimpses of it through His gracious deliverances. These stories help encourage us to go on for we are once again reminded of what lies ahead.

As far as asking why to the question of suffering, I have this funny picture in my mind of Jack Nicholsen yelling that famous movie line "You can't handle the truth!" In a sense that is a very good response to all of us who stand wagging our fingers at God demanding that He tell us why. The fact is, we can't handle it, literally. In philosophical terms, we simply don't have the epistemological equipment to handle the answers were God to provide them. Jesus himself on the cross asked why he was forsaken. If you notice closely there is no answer given.

Richard Wurbrand tells this story: "A sufferer once came to a pastor and asked him many questions. The pastor answered, 'Kneel here in church and ask Jesus for the answers.' The man replied, 'Do you really think I will hear a voice from heaven?' 'No,' said the pastor, 'but by keeping quiet in prayer for several hours before God, you will realize that you can go along without answers to all your problems. This would have been Jesus' answer, and it will quiet you.' You do not need more than His peace, which passes all understanding. You do not need both peace and understanding, for understanding presupposes qualifications that most of us do not have."

So as I prepare to face all the 9/11 memories that will come tomorrow I will face them with peace and with hope. As for understanding, well I've come to understand that I may not have that understanding in this lifetime and well, that's okay, Peace and hope are enough.

Ordinary Time

Our pastor sometimes concludes our service by asking where we've seen God at work this week. The week of Thanksgiving I had an answer in mind. I had seen Him in my friend Emily. We had gone to Emily's house for Thanksgiving this year. Emily and her husband Jeremy have six children. Four of them are boys--Green Mountain Boys is what they call them. All of them bundles of endless energy and enthusiasm!

At one point Emily and I stood talking in the kitchen as she was preparing a baked apple dish. She had two neat rows of carved out apples which she stuffed with a raisin, brown sugary mix. She placed them in a Pyrex pan and set it on the counter. Just as she did, her 3 year old Green Mountain Boy decided to climb up on that same counter in search of something. As he did, all of his kinetic force came down on the counter, which caused the apple dish to fly off and spill. Now the whole apple dish was undone and strewn across the Linoleum floor.

I'm sure this occurrence wasn't out of the ordinary. But this day wasn't ordinary--it was Thanksgiving and we were their guests. Now, part of the meal was covering the floor like a Pollock art piece.

We all froze for a second, our eyes soaking in the scene. Anger, frustration, a stern scolding, none of it would have surprised me. But in the heat of the moment, grace is what bubbled up from Emily's core.

She scooped that little guy up and softly explained what went wrong. They exchanged a few more words and she ended the conversation by telling him that she forgave him. Then she further affirmed him with a hug and a kiss. She then set him down and he instantly bounded off looking for the next place his energy could land.

The whole scene, set against the backdrop of domestic life, once again reminded me of God's grace. It pops up again and again in ordinary time, in the hum drum of normal life. When we least deserve it, grace floods over us, even in moments of Green Mountain kinetic energy!

The Divine Dance

I don't know why it is that I so often assume that my relationship with God should be an uncomplicated one. Every other relationship in my life isn't, so why should I expect one with the divine to be so simple? I was struck by this thought the other day when I was pondering the complex relationship that exists between my dog and I. Even that relationship doesn't exude simplicity. My dog has entered into the teenage mentality, where listening and obedience aren't always hand in hand. The simple command, come boy, isn't always obeyed and he is challenging his boundaries constantly. My spousal relationship is by far the most challenging and complex one in my life and yet when it comes to God I have expected it to be neat and tidy, simple and predictable, but it never is.

So I've finally resigned myself to the fact that my relationship with God is going to be layered with complexity. By no means can I predict God's responses or guess how He will lead me, or know how He will orchestrate the broken pieces of my life into his grand design. I don't know when His presence will be felt or not, when I'll bask in His love or feel a time of heaven's silence. But I have come to relax in these complications and handle them much like my other relationships.

I ask questions when I have them. I wrestle with the unknowns. I express my anger, my frustrations, my doubts and fears. Then I leave them at His feet. I have learned to come to God in my full humanity and in honesty. I believe that is what He desires--me, being honest. Not me in my finery, trying to impress. Not me in my religious skin, but me, in my human frailty, full of questions and doubts, full of failure and complications.

It is in moments like these when I like to think of my relationship with God as a dance, though it may be an awkward one at times. For Sometimes I twirl away to dance on my own, or ignore his leading in preference to my own steps. At some point, I concede and return to the dance once more in an attempt to figure out how the human and the divine can move together seamlessly.

I recognize there will come a time when we will experience this union perfectly. And there will come a time when we will dance a waltz that is elegant and uniquely right. And for the first time we'll be exactly in sync with each other. But till then I continue the dance, sometimes in step, sometimes out, sometimes in close, sometimes needing to be retrieved. He leads, I follow, step on His toes, argue, move away, concede again and the awkward dance continues. But nevertheless I cling to the knowledge that someday we will do it precisely right and I will have the aha moment when I see exactly how it was meant to be.

Cardboard Fires

I love having a woodstove at this time of year. Though I hate to admit it, my husband is the best fire starter in the family. He is very Boy Scout about the whole process. He follows procedure and steps till he arrives at a hot roaring blaze. First, he lays his twigs and arranges them so the right amount of airflow occurs. Later, when he has achieved his coal bed he lays on the larger pieces layering them just so. Within minutes we have a hot sustainable fire.

I, on the other hand, am no Boy Scout. I am impatient and always looking for instant results with minimal effort and time. So instead of establishing the necessary coal bed I skip right to cardboard. Cardboard catches fire quickly and creates what appears to be a large roaring fire. Then when I have this wonderful illusion going, I throw on a large piece of wood and blow really hard on it as I keep my fingers crossed. Inevitably the cardboard burns up quickly and the wood below it doesn't catch fire and I'm left with a smoky mess.

I keep trying to make this system work by throwing more and more cardboard on hoping that a miracle will occur and my wood will catch fire without a well established coal bed. I keep hoping to trick the system and succeed in fire starting for impatient people. But it never works and as a result I fight with my woodstove for a couple of hours instead of taking the proper steps and having a decent fire in 20 minutes or so. They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results. I guess that makes me an insane fire starter. You might think that I'd learn the lesson with so much evidence stacked against me. But I confess I still struggle with my cardboard fires trying to believe this is a process I can one day beat.

One day I thought I had just achieved my moment of glory. I had a particularly great cardboard fire going, where for a few brief moments the flames were high and looked successful. Of course it was all a ruse because it quickly petered out. For some reason the scene made me think of religion, specifically a checklist system of particular behaviors. What I realized was, this system can easily look like a roaring, sustainable fire. But it is a relationship with God that makes the sustainable fire, one you can warm yourself by. Faith by the checklist leaves one with a cardboard fire; you may see the bright flames, but they will quickly die out and leave you cold to the bone. Now, more than ever, I long for the genuine warmth of a sustainable fire rather than the tease of a quick, high flame. In the end, one can see it's clearly worth the extra effort.