My Road from Unbelief to Belief

My testimony. . . How God revealed Himself to me, and dispelled my atheism.

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A Measurement Standard. . .

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A kilogram is currently defined by a standard cylinder of platinum-iridium alloy which is kept at the International bureau of weights and measures near Paris, France. On May 20th of this year a new definition will replace the platinum-iridium artifact association. The new definition will be: taking the fixed numerical value of the Planck constant h to be 6.62607015×10−34 when expressed in the unit J⋅s, which is equal to kg⋅m2⋅s−1, where the metre and the second are defined in terms of c and ΔνCs. A second is defined as the amount of time a cesium-133 atom takes to vibrate 9,192,631,770 times. A compass points to the magnetic pole of the earth to determine the direction north. A meter is defined as 1,650,763.73 wavelengths of orange-red light, in a vacuum, produced by burning the element krypton-86. In each of these cases, a measurement is determined by something outside of what is being measured. . . something independent of the measurer. Where am I going with this? For t...
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Walnut in the Woodpile. . .

I am a woodworker. I love the beauty of wood. I love making things from wood. I love the rich glistening, almost iridescent beauty of a finely finished piece of wood. I love the warmth of wood, compared to steel or glass or ceramic. I love looking at the growth rings in a piece of wood. Imagining the years of budding growth, and fruit bearing, and glorious autumnal colors, and then the time or dormancy. I love thinking of all the animals who were blessed by the tree from which the wood came. . . birds nesting and resting. . . squirrels scampering and gathering nuts and acorn. . . building their leafy dens high in the tree tops. Newborn fawns resting in the shade of the tree. . . I love wood. . . All that being said, Jackie and I have a wood burner, and we burn wood to heat our home. I do recognize that wood serves many purposes, but still when I gather logs to place upon the fire, I look a bit ruefully at the piece and wonder what might have been created from it. This year i...
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Mother's Day 2007

My mother had a stroke on May 1st. The doctors said that she would be a vegetable. . . I write these words a few days before Mother's Day 2007. This morning my sister and I met my Mom's doctor to discuss her future. I am appreciative of what he is trying to do. He wants us to begin thinking of things that we want to keep covered and out of sight. His experiences with similar cases, I am sure are valuable to him, but this is not a usually or a most often, this is not a past history, this is my Mom. She lies critically ill in a bed, unconscious, receiving her nourishment, and air through a tangled umbilical of hoses, lines and cords. We grasp at every positive hint. We make excuses for dark signs. This is our Mom. . . God made Eve from Adam's rib. I came from someplace deeper and much more intimate than a rib. I suspect (being an outsider to the mystery) that the tearing, the parting of birth is both physical and emotional. Birth being only the first wrenching separation in...
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