The Magnificence of Mentoring

"Brothers and sisters, imitate me, and pay attention to those who live by the example we have given you." (Philippians 3:17)

Laura Hillenbrand, the author of “Seabiscuit,” gave an interview sometime after her book was written, and had sailed to the top of the New York Times Best Seller List. I will never forget the book, or the interview. I have long since misplaced my copy of the book, and I haven’t been able to locate the portion of the interview which contains the following account. As a result, it has been necessary for me to rewrite a summary of her words from memory.

It seems that when Laura Hillenbrand was a little girl she happened to be at the neighborhood pool one day; the same activity I also used to enjoy. (And now we pick up her story.)

"After I had swam awhile, a thunderstorm arose, and the majority of the children ran for cover into a screened-in porch; adjacent to the pool. As us kids sat bare-legged on the floor, a well-meaning young man, a lifeguard, offered to read a poem to us; not just any poem, but one of the longest, and most poignant poems of all time, 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.' You can imagine that many of the children opted to collect their things, and head off for home, in spite of the light rain and thunder. But a few of my young companions remained, and we were soon engrossed in the young man’s grisly tale.

The lifeguard read stanza after stanza of the poem, and the more he read, the more horrendous and awe-inspiring were his words. The rain fell in droves now, and it seemed to me that the crack of lightning, and the boom of thunder, served to accent the dark adjectives which so easily rolled off the young man’s lips.

You see, 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' recounts the fictional voyage of a couple hundred unfortunate sailors on an old sailing ship. Not so different from Paul’s account in the Book of Acts, the ancient vessel is overcome by an intense storm, but in this case, there is a significant loss of life.

As the young fellow finished reading the poem, and put down the book, the few of us who remained seemed to sit silently for a brief moment, as if to transcend the hundred, or so stanzas which had so transfixed us. And then it was time for me to head home.

I picked up my towel, and began the short walk to my house. In spite of the depth and darkness of the subject matter, I was no longer the child who sat down cross-legged on that cold tile floor. My very soul thrilled within me to realize, even at my young age, what I wished to do with my life. As surely as the account of lightning in the old poem mirrored the actual lightning which enveloped the afternoon sky, I had been filled to overflowing with insight. I would become an author."

And the world renown author commented at the end of this particular segment of the interview, “I never knew the name of that young man who selflessly offered to read to a few young children on a little porch by a neighborhood pool, but what he did for me that day, though of course he had no way of knowing, the time and topic he shared with me that day, well, it made all the difference in my life. I would not, could not, have been the same person I am today. My life would not have turned out as it has, without the momentary contribution of that selfless young man.”

By William McDonald, PhD. (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 20. Copyright pending

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Scratching an Itch

I had propped a round-runged ladder against a wooden basketball post in order to reach some long-hanging branches which hung over my driveway. As winter gave way to spring each year, I had contended with a myriad of oak leaves, and one day, a few years ago, it seemed good to me to remedy the situation. And with hand saw in hand I proceeded to climb the ladder. Well, my readers, if I took away any lesson from that experience it is, 

“Never prop a round-runged ladder against a circular post, (and expect to navigate it successfully).”

And as you may have already inferred, the ladder began to shift, and 

… I fell

onto solid concrete, and

… shattered my ankle

which resulted in a consultation with an orthopedic surgeon, and which ultimately required a complicated surgical procedure, and the installation of a mid-calf to ankle cast.

And as with the majority of people who are forced to wear a cast on the leg or arm, the best that can be said about it is, “I tolerated it.”

Funny, how with any new season in life one learns the “tricks of the trade.” 

I discovered it was almost impossible to sleep in my bed at night for lack of any position which was compatible with the cast. Thus, I resorted to my easy chair, and while I was unable to sleep very long at a stretch, the footrest made it possible to position my ankle higher than the rest of me.

I also discovered that the presence of a cast makes it all but impossible to scratch an itch. But they say, “where’s there’s a will, there’s a way,” and I found a way to scratch some of the most accessible itches inside the cast. 

A butter knife.

There’s a line from an old Alka-Seltzer commercial which went something like,

… “Ohhh, what a relief it is.”

Well, it was.

I slipped that butter knife down along the inside of my cast, and scratched those minor itches which cropped up several times a day. And the coldness of the metal, even in the warmest weather, was nothing short of wonderful.

However, part way through my tenure with this artificial addition to my anatomy, I experienced an itch, for lack of a more suitable word, which refused to be scratched. 

For you see, I found it impossible to reach it with any tool designed for a more primary purpose.

This was a sensation unlike any I had experienced during the course of my “plaster adornment.” As much irritation as itch. However it might be described, the thought of contending with the thing a moment more, well, it was simply unthinkable.

As a result, I asked my wife to contact the physician, and request an immediate appointment to have the cast replaced. Having explained my predicament, the receptionist encouraged us to come in immediately, and we (immediately) hopped in the car and drove an hour to the doctor’s office.

Well, needless to say once the cast was off, and I was afforded the momentary pleasure of scratching the offending measure of skin, it was “joy unspeakable and full of glory.”

Thankfully, after the technician installed 18 inches of the same substance which he’d just removed, and I went away from there, I managed to avoid any repeat of the earlier sensation, until I was fortunate enough to have the cast permanently removed a few weeks later.

It occurs to me that life can be a lot like wearing a rather uncomfortable cast, which is necessary to one’s overall state of health and happiness, but which in the scheme of things can be a bit intolerable.

And not unlike the condition with which I was once given to deal, there are those seasons in which we encounter “a scratch which refuses to be itched,” and which is anything but tolerable. 

And so much like the artificiality of wearing a cast, and ultimately having it permanently removed, scripture alludes to “seeing through a glass darkly, but then face to face.”

Life can be an excruciatingly frustrating and fragile thing with which we have to do and deal, and “the riches in darkness and treasures in secret places” often beg to be found out. 

Thank God the redeemed have been granted the ultimate wherewithal to divest themselves of the temporal, in favor of the eternal, when we shall put off this cloak of fragility in favor of immortality, and when we will experience the ecstasy of  scratching an itch; which ‘til now has been left unscratched.

By William McDonald, PhD. (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 30. Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, share or save this blog, please include the credit line, above
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 If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015, do the following:  

Click on 2015 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog, "The Shot Must Choose You" appears, click on the title. All my 2015 blog titles will come up in the index   

NOTE: **If you are viewing this blog with a Google server/subscription, you may note numerous underlined words in blue. I have no control over this "malady." If you click on the underlined words, you will be redirected to an advertisement sponsored by Google. I would suggest you avoid doing so.

Shunning

I have previously written about an incident in my own life which I won’t allude to in any detail again, but a scenario from a recent movie brought it all back to me.

In this particular “Hallmark” movie an Amish girl had “gone out into the world” and made a life for herself, and was preparing to marry what they would refer to as an “English” man. (Two words. Not Englishman). Their terminology for anyone who does not subscribe to the Amish culture and theology, and who lives anywhere other than in an Amish enclave.

If my readers are familiar with the Amish way of doing things, you are all too aware of what is referred to as “Shunning.” For anyone who isn’t familiar, shunning is the practice of separating one’s self from a family member or friend who has chosen to go their own way, and disavow the lifestyle which they once knew and held dear.

As the movie proceeds, and as the result of “Dinah’s” decision to leave her familiar surroundings, take a job in the English world, and marry a non-Amish man, her father and mother sever contact with her. However, (and I like this) the young lady’s mother experiences a great deal of grief, and regret, and longs to be reunited with her daughter. And though, “Mr. Lapp” holds out for a brief time, he, too, “comes around” to “Mrs. Lapp’s” way of thinking. As a result, mother and father show up at Dinah’s wedding, and her father willingly participates in the ceremony.

All this to say, it was refreshing to see the parents make the decision to go against the traditional, (and I think, non-sensible teachings of the church), and risk being shunned themselves; in doing what their hearts had called them to do.

There are any number of practices in any given church, sect or cult which fly in the face of logic and charity. 

Shunning is definitely one of them.

In recent years I have known the pain of being shunned several times. And sadly, each and every time this has occurred, the experience has come without any attempt of the other party to clarify or explain.

Jesus, Himself knew the pain of being shunned. After He made one especially controversial statement, numerous members of His outer circle abandoned Him. And among dozens of especially poignant reflections, the one which stands out for me is the question our Lord then posed to the Twelve.

“Will you also go away?”

(And at least at that singular moment, more man than God spoke).

The incredibly wrenching, recurring pain of losing someone from among those whom you hold nearest and dearest.

I’m glad the writer of Hebrews left us with that promise, and entreaty so founded upon our Savior’s earthly experiences…

“We have not a high priest who cannot be touched with the feelings of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.

Let us come boldly to the throne of grace that we may receive mercy for our failures, and grace to help in the time of need.” (Heb. 4:15-16)

He walked this way before we ever did, and never fails to comfort us in our distress.

By William McDonald, PhD. (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 30. Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, share or save this blog, please include the credit line, above
***********
 If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015, do the following:  

Click on 2015 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog, "The Shot Must Choose You" appears, click on the title. All my 2015 blog titles will come up in the index   

NOTE: **If you are viewing this blog with a Google server/subscription, you may note numerous underlined words in blue. I have no control over this "malady." If you click on the underlined words, you will be redirected to an advertisement sponsored by Google. I would suggest you avoid doing so.

Florescent Soldiers

Why Some Civil War Soldiers Glowed in the Dark

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Matt Soniak

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By the spring of 1862, a year into the American Civil War, Major General Ulysses S. Grant had pushed deep into Confederate territory along the Tennessee River. In early April, he was camped at Pittsburg Landing, near Shiloh, Tennessee, waiting for Maj. Gen. Don Carlos Buell’s army to meet up with him.

On the morning of April 6, Confederate troops based out of nearby Corinth, Mississippi, launched a surprise offensive against Grant’s troops, hoping to defeat them before the second army arrived. Grant’s men, augmented by the first arrivals from the Ohio, managed to hold some ground, though, and establish a battle line anchored with artillery. Fighting continued until after dark, and by the next morning, the full force of the Ohio had arrived and the Union outnumbered the Confederates by more than 10,000.

The Union troops began forcing the Confederates back, and while a counterattack stopped their advance it did not break their line. Eventually, the Southern commanders realized they could not win and fell back to Corinth until another offensive in August (for a more detailed explanation of the battle, see this animated history).

All told, the fighting at the Battle of Shiloh left more than 16,000 soldiers wounded and more 3,000 dead, and neither federal or Confederate medics were prepared for the carnage.

The bullet and bayonet wounds were bad enough on their own, but soldiers of the era were also prone to infections. Wounds contaminated by shrapnel or dirt became warm, moist refuges for bacteria, which could feast on a buffet of damaged tissue. After months marching and eating field rations on the battlefront, many soldiers’ immune systems were weakened and couldn’t fight off infection on their own. Even the army doctors couldn’t do much; microorganisms weren’t well understood and the germ theory of disease and antibiotics were still a few years away. Many soldiers died from infections that modern medicine would be able to nip in the bud.

A Bright Spot

 

Some of the Shiloh soldiers sat in the mud for two rainy days and nights waiting for the medics to get around to them. As dusk fell the first night, some of them noticed something very strange: their wounds were glowing, casting a faint light into the darkness of the battlefield. Even stranger, when the troops were eventually moved to field hospitals, those whose wounds glowed had a better survival rate and had their wounds heal more quickly and cleanly than their unilluminated brothers-in-arms. The seemingly protective effect of the mysterious light earned it the nickname “Angel’s Glow.”

In 2001, almost one hundred and forty years after the battle, seventeen-year-old Bill Martin was visiting the Shiloh battlefield with his family. When he heard about the glowing wounds, he asked his mom - a microbiologist at the USDA Agricultural Research Service who had studied luminescent bacteria that lived in soil - about it.

“So you know, he comes home and, 'Mom, you're working with a glowing bacteria. Could that have caused the glowing wounds?’” Martin told Science Netlinks. “And so, being a scientist, of course I said, ‘Well, you can do an experiment to find out.’”

And that’s just what Bill did.

He and his friend, Jon Curtis, did some research on both the bacteria and the conditions during the Battle of Shiloh. They learned that Photorhabdus luminescens, the bacteria that Bill’s mom studied and the one he thought might have something to do with the glowing wounds, live in the guts of parasitic worms called nematodes, and the two share a strange lifecycle. Nematodes hunt down insect larvae in the soil or on plant surfaces, burrow into their bodies, and take up residence in their blood vessels. There, they puke up the P. luminescens bacteria living inside them. Upon their release, the bacteria, which are bioluminescent and glow a soft blue, begin producing a number of chemicals that kill the insect host and suppress and kill all the other microorganisms already inside it. This leaves P. luminescens and their nematode partner to feed, grow and multiply without interruptions.

As the worms and the bacteria eat and eat and the insect corpse is more or less hollowed out, the nematode eats the bacteria. This isn’t a double cross, but part of the move to greener pastures. The bacteria re-colonize the nematode’s guts so they can hitch a ride as it bursts forth from the corpse in search of a new host.

The next meal shouldn’t be hard to find either, since P. luminescens already sent them an invitation to the party. Just before they got got back in their nematode taxi, P. luminescens were at critical mass in the insect corpse, and scientists think that that many glowing bacteria attract other insects to the body and make the nematode’s transition to a new host much easier.

A Good Light

 

Looking at historical records of the battle, Bill and Jon figured out that the weather and soil conditions were right for both P. luminescens and their nematode partners. Their lab experiments with the bacteria, however, showed that they couldn’t live at human body temperature, making the soldiers’ wounds an inhospitable environment. Then they realized what some country music fans already knew: Tennessee in the spring is green and cool. Nighttime temperatures in early April would have been low enough for the soldiers who were out there in the rain for two days to get hypothermia, lowering their body temperature and giving P. luminescens a good home.

Based on the evidence for P. luminescens’s presence at Shiloh and the reports of the strange glow, the boys concluded that the bacteria, along with the nematodes, got into the soldiers’ wounds from the soil. This not only turned their wounds into night lights, but may have saved their lives. The chemical cocktail that P. luminescens uses to clear out its competition probably helped kill off other pathogens that might have infected the soldiers’ wounds. Since neither P. luminescens nor its associated nematode species are very infectious to humans, they would have soon been cleaned out by the immune system themselves (which is not to say you should be self-medicating with bacteria; P. luminescens infections can occur, and can result in some nasty ulcers). The soldiers shouldn’t have been thanking the angels so much as the microorganisms.

As for Bill and Jon, their study earned them first place in team competition at the 2001 Intel International Science and Engineering Fair.

April 5, 2012 - 5:46pm