Afraid of Dying?

 HS #91 2023.2.9

 

Afraid of Dying?

 

Last month in her January 14 Holland Sentinel column, Janet Weisiger raised a thought-provoking question: “Are you afraid of dying?”  She detailed her own strong belief in the caring, loving God described in the Bible and in God’s promises such as John 3:16. 

 

I am not presently reading through the Bible yearly as she is, but I know it well.  While in college, I wrote my own four-notebook commentary covering the entire Bible using (and recommending!) the three-year daily study guide “Search the Scriptures” by Intervarsity Press.  

 

Yes indeed, the Bible makes claims about eternal life. There are explicit New Testament references such as Jesus telling his disciples (John 14:2) that he will prepare a place for them. But there are Old Testament hints as well - even in the most ancient book of the Bible, Job.   After Job’s time of trial allowed by God which stripped Job of all that he had, God restores to Job double the wealth, double the flocks, double the herds, BUT just the same number of children who had died.  Was that because the dead children still lived in the afterlife – so Job’s number of children had in fact doubled too? 

 

However, Weisiger and I do apparently differ in our epistemologies, perhaps depending on our respective personalities. 

 

I am skeptical about drawing conclusions of things unseen.  Being honest with myself, I don’t share Weisiger’s confidence in the things she believes about God and the afterlife. Instead, I question if there is a creator God of the universe, or whether the physical universe itself is the ultimate thing. Either is possible. It’s a toss-up.

 

If a creator God exists, is God a personal God who loves and watches and cares for us and “knows the number of hairs on our heads” (easy in my case)? Or is God possibly a deistic God, as believed by some of our Founding Fathers, who made the world and is now letting it go of its own accord?  Either is possible. Note that the lack of present-day miracles is not a case against a personal God. Consider a farmer’s relationship to his fields. There are special times when the farmer is active – planting, weeding, harvesting, but otherwise the attentive, ever-present farmer carefully watches. Similarly, the Biblical record suggests a loving God who has been active at crucial times in the history of the world, but otherwise lets it run much on its own without obvious interference. 

 

If a personal God does exist, is God as described in the Christian Bible? There are other monotheistic religions with different claims. Jewish faith, for example, places little emphasis or belief in the afterlife. Their faith, as I understand, is much more rooted in this present existence. 

 

And even within the realms of Christian belief, there are questions about life beyond this. Once when I pressed for an answer, a pastor told me, “We will remain in God’s love.” That was as specific as the pastor claimed. 

 

Lots of uncertainty. So to answer Weisiger’s question, I am not afraid of dying – but for reasons different than hers. 

 

Accepting that this life is possibly all there is frees one from the unease of hoping for more without being sure. Some may be energized by “things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” (Heb 11:1)   But for others, including myself, uncertainty generates disquietude. It feels better to learn to be content with what one has – this present life. This was the wisdom of Epicurus. 

 

But how to be content?  Briefly, I don’t feel robbed that I was not alive to experience life in the 1800s. Similarly, I accept that I will not live to experience the 2100s. I accept that I am experiencing a brief bit of the universe right NOW. So I want to make the most of it by living fully in the present while hopefully impacting the future world for good.  Then I will die satisfied.  

 

Interestingly, mathematics offers another consolation of sorts.  Using the logarithmic scale, human size is about halfway between the smallest thing (Plank’s quantum distance) and the largest (the universe itself). That is, we are as many times larger than the smallest thing as the entire universe is larger than us.   But in contrast, a typical human lifespan (70-80 years) is a full 85% of the way along the logarithmic scale from the smallest quantum time unit to the age of the universe.  Not bad! Take advantage!

35 Years Living in Community

 HS #90 2023.1.12

 

35 Years Living in Community

 

As I write this, I’m watching the original Star Wars movie on TV.  I didn’t realize when viewing it as a sophomore in college that the theme of the trilogy is friendship. When Luke chooses C-3P0, his fearless droid friend R2-D2 rocks back and forth in anxiety fearing he will lose his companion. At C-3P0’s suggestion, Luke takes R2-D2 also, so the two friends stay together. 

 

Friendship binds the humans as well. Hans Solo foregoes his own plans for the sake of his new friends, and Luke’s dedication to friends gives him the spirit and power to defeat the emperor. 

 

And I just saw an ad for “The Wizard of Oz.” Friendship is its theme too. Dorothy realizes that love of faithful friends, family and home are the only things worth living for. 

 

Yes, we are meant to live in community with friends. 

 

Indeed, why am I watching Star Wars on TV?  I own the DVD; I can watch it anytime. But it feels good knowing others are sharing the experience. I endure commercials for the sake of (unseen) community. I can even appreciate being stuck in traffic realizing that the entire lineup of vehicles is a spontaneously formed community of sorts – each of us dependent upon the actions of the others. 

 

It was this desire for community that brought me to Holland 35 years ago this week. 

 

After completing my Ph.D. in mathematics at Iowa State University in 1987, I received employment offers from Hope College and two state universities. Having done my higher education at public universities, I was tempted to make one my career home. But I was fascinated by the prospect of living an integrated life in a community where my colleagues were also my neighbors.

 

Having grown up as a PK, we moved several times during my childhood. Thus, perhaps I value more than most the opportunity to have lived in Holland for 35 years – most of it in the same brick ranch on East 12^th Street. There is something rich about riding my bicycle around town noting the homes of friends and neighbors – some departed, of walking through the cemetery on 16^th Street among increasing numbers of engraved names of longtime friends and colleagues. Indeed, my life is enriched as I live surrounded by ghosts who speak to me providing memories from the past. 

 

How neat to live several blocks from where my father and grandfather went to college and seminary. I served as a Resident Director in Archie/Cosmo Hall for five years – those were the fraternities of which they were members. 

 

How rich to have spent over 30 years celebrating holidays with my cousins at the home of my (now 94-year-old) aunt, seeing my cousin’s young boys grow to have children of their own. 

And to have a former colleague tell me recently that he prays for me as he passes my home on his daily run. 

 

There is richness in long enduring relationships. 

 

On the other hand, I tell students that the best way to learn is by keeping one foot on firm ground while venturing into unknown water with the other. That is, we should explore new territory while staying connected and secure with the old and familiar. 

 

Similarly, some relationships and communities are eventually replaced by new ones. Since coming to Holland, I have taught at four different colleges, sung in six different choirs, and changed churches. New hobbies also bring new communities. Racquetball and ultimate frisbee partners have given way to pickleball and kayaking friends. Since 2015, writing this monthly column has formed new connections.  Few of these changes were planned in advance, and that very fact makes the future both hopeful and exciting. Retirement will bring losses, but also new opportunities and relationships. Even as life changes, new communities emerge and buoy us up. 

 

What about you? Teddy Roosevelt’s daughter said her father would be the bride at every wedding, the corpse at every funeral. Yes, it’s hard to attend a wedding or funeral without thinking of oneself. M.C. Escher’s self-portrait shows his reflection front and center in a crystal globe held in his outstretched hand. We are all the central image in our own lives. 

 

So even as you, my Holland neighbors, read my life details, I hope and assume that you have been remembering similar stories and evolving communities of your own. As life changes, we are blessed to live in community – with each other. 

Calvin and Hope

 HS #89 2022.12.8

 

Calvin and Hope

 

Calvin VanderWerf, President of Hope College 1963-1970, had a couple of noteworthy ideas. One was his humorous definition of an atheist as someone who doesn’t care who wins a Hope-Calvin basketball game. A second was separating Hope College from the control of its parent denomination, the Reformed Church of America. 

 

Both of those ideas are front and center these days. Calvin University recently announced that football is in their future. Given the rivalry of other Hope-Calvin sports teams, one can anticipate full stadiums and cheering crowds on both sides. West Michigan will be the richer for it. 

 

Indeed, the rich rivalry between Calvin and Hope goes beyond sports. Traveling around the country giving talks at various colleges and universities, I have grown to appreciate the uniquely balanced competition between these West Michigan institutions – iron sharpening iron. Years ago, when touring the Art Institute of Chicago, I spied a group of Calvin-clad students. Tapping one on the shoulder, I asked, “Calvin College – that’s that nice school in Holland Michigan?” “No – that’s Hope.” “Oh – you’re the one that won MIAA basketball this year?” “No – that was Hope.” “You’re the one with all the undergraduate science research?” “No – that’s Hope.” I then admitted I was a Hope professor. 

 

But the joke could easily have gone the other direction. Especially in the humanities, Calvin has produced noteworthy scholars including Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff, not to mention the recent thoughtful challenge, “Jesus and John Wayne” by Kristin Kobes Du Mez. Both institutions are making their respective impacts. 

 

Their “respective impacts” – that brings us to VanderWerf’s second idea. As is happening in many Christian denominations, the RCA (Reformed Church in America) and the CRC (Christian Reformed Church in North America) are wrestling with the LGBTQ+ issue. However, since Calvin University is under the ownership and direction of the CRC, the CRC’s decisions in this matter have a greater impact on their institution. 

 

As is seen on the CRC website, the denomination holds official positions on a number of matters. Some of these, such as belief in the infallibility of inspired scripture and that certain historic creeds faithfully represent scriptural doctrines, form the bedrock of the faith.  These are raised to confessional status, while most, including observance of the 4^thCommandment (Lord’s Day), baptism, divorce, and creation and science are not. 

 

This summer the 2022 Synod (CRC governing body) affirmed that the sin of “unchastity” in the Heidelberg Catechism includes homosexual sex (even within a monogamous marriage) and raised this issue to confessional status. Interestingly, while this biblical position can perhaps be defended (as can the opposing position), it is not clear from scripture why it was raised to confessional status. Which issues would achieve confessional status if scripture were one’s sole guide (Sola scriptura)? Perhaps the Ten Commandments - including swearing and Lord’s Day observance? Perhaps justice and mercy? 

 

But while I don’t understand the action taken by the CRC, I still respect it. Those making the decision undoubtedly did so from an inner conviction that they were doing the right thing. Unfortunately, future high school students may increasingly have inner convictions that the decision was the wrong thing. Given the increasing challenge attracting enough students given declining high school demographics, this presents an additional hurdle. 

 

But while the CRC’s authority over Calvin University presents challenges, it also provides Calvin  with a steady anchor and clarifies its identity.  This, by contrast, reveals its rival’s challenge. 

 

Unmoored from the RCA, Hope College has been free to evolve depending on its leadership and board. While this has resulted in a dynamic chapel program, Hope would do well, especially in hiring/tenure, to clarify its identity and settle into a stable niche, distinct from Calvin’s, but also distinct from secular colleges. Presently, Hope asks candidates for an expression of faith and relationship with God. But with no foundational doctrinal statement, who then decides if it is adequate? And how? (For example, Nietzsche observed, “Only a person of deep faith can enjoy the luxury of skepticism.”) Hope might instead consider using SOLELY the mission statement developed by VanderWerf’s successor, Gordon Van Wylen: “The mission of Hope College is to offer academic programs in liberal arts …  in the context of the historic Christian faith.” Instead of attempting to evaluate the adequacy of a personal faith expression, simply ask: “How have you, do you, and will you support this mission?” Simple and straightforward. 

 

This would provide two distinct and distinguished institutions of higher education in West Michigan. 

 

 

The Pull and The Fall

 HS #88 2022.11.10

 

The Pull and The Fall

 

Ideas for these monthly columns are often inspired by a confluence of events. Such happened last month. The Fall (the Biblical depiction of the origin of human evil and pain) was on my mind while writing a column on Genesis. (See timothypennings.blogspot.com)  I penned,  “As with Icarus, humans sought to fly too high, to know more than was intended and instructed, causing a cascade of calamity.” 

 

The second event was watching the grueling last half hour of “The Pull” of Hope College. I’ve regularly attended this event since coming to Hope in 1988. Until recently, it was held on the two – usually muddy – sides of the Black River. The new location, on East 11^th Street by the DeVos Field House, loses some of the ambiance, but compensates by allowing spectators to easily watch both teams. 

 

Since the Even Year team runs by my house on East 12^th Street for three weeks of multi-hour practices, they are my default favorite. The male chorus of chants has been enriched by higher-pitched female voices as modern sensibilities affect even this century-old tradition. 

 

Over the years I have learned various stories from pullers. My favorite is that during the first week of intense training – including hundreds of sit ups and push-ups – the pullers are promised a day of recreation at the beach the coming Saturday. Arriving ready for sun and surf, they are then directed to continue training by carrying each other up the dunes. 

 

True or not, I believe the claim that for most of these students, the three weeks of Pull practice is, bar none, the most intense and single-focused physical endeavor they have ever experienced. Their raw hands, strained voices, and cramped legs are all testament to giving this team effort their all. 

 

Thus, I choked up at the conclusion when, standing on the Even Side, I heard the junior year coach announce to the exhausted team, “You have done all we have asked and expected. You have carried on the great tradition and have made us coaches, the Even Year alumni, and Hope College proud. You have done your very best, and you - - are victorious!” It was a speech worthy of Vince Lombardi and similar to Marshall’s commendation of Eisenhower. 

 

After enjoying their celebration for a few minutes, I shifted to the Odd Year side. I expected to find low spirits, but was unprepared for the tears and genuine heartache. I’ll not forget the look of shock, despondency and loss as they consoled each other with long embraces. During the final minutes of the event, I overheard a student spectator remark, “What’s it like to spend three hours pulling on a rope – and then lose?” Indeed!

 

These students didn’t know it, but they just experienced the Fall. Both sides. I didn’t understand the richness of the Fall until reading C.S. Lewis’s “The Space Trilogy.” He explores, as only Lewis can through fiction, that, yes, the Fall brought misery and heartache, but, living through and conquering those challenges adds richness and purpose to our lives. As per ABC’s Wide World of Sports, there is no thrill of victory unless there is also agony of defeat. 

 

And these students are getting just a taste of what’s to come – the thrill of marriage, the agony of conflict and divorce, the thrill of child birth, the agony of health issues, the thrill of new jobs, the agony of layoffs. Is the Fall then a curse or a disguised blessing? It’s both. 

 

Beautiful patterns on diamond willow walking sticks are the result of infection in the wood. A broken bone heals stronger. Mutations, while usually harmful to the individual, are beneficial to the species since the species can then survive changing environments. (For more examples, read “Antifragile”). U2’s Bono in his new memoir, “Surrender” explains it was the loss of his mother that led to his life of creative brilliance.  Someone has noted that in the centuries during which turbulent war-torn Italy gave the world unsurpassed music and art, placid, staid Switzerland produced  - - the cuckoo clock. 

 

There’s a story about an Irishman who, exiting a pub and seeing two men slugging it out, taps one on the shoulder and asks, “Is this a private fight or can anyone join?” Some enjoy the fight. 

 

Indeed, the richness of striving, of struggling, of laying oneself bare with no guarantee of victory – this is the legacy of the Fall. A tough life – I’d have no other. 

Straight Talk about Genesis

 HS #87 2022.10.13

 

Straight Talk about Genesis

 

How fascinating that an ancient book so influences present-day thoughts and issues. I’m speaking of Genesis, the first book of the Bible. 

 

My first teacher of Genesis was my Western Theological Seminary-educated father. He explained that the first eleven chapters are “pre-history” – a different type of literature than that which follows with the story of Abraham and his descendants.  These chapters contain the stories of Creation, the Fall, the Tower of Babel, the Flood, and 969-year-old Methuselah. (Biblical Riddle: How is it that the man who lived to be the oldest died before his father?) 

 

These chapters address deep-searching questions one might ponder at night around a campfire: Where did the world come from? Why do people get married? Why do we wear clothes? Why do people hurt each other? Why do people die? Why do other peoples speak different languages? Why do I work so hard pulling weeds? 

 

How are these chapters, in particular the story of creation, to be read and understood?  Augustine (not a lightweight, theologically speaking) did not have the benefit of modern astronomical knowledge, but by studying the scripture itself realized that it was not intended to be understood literally or chronologically. He noted, for example, the untenable chronology of light on the first day, but no sun or stars until the fourth day. 

 

In fact, Augustine scolded the believers of his day for reading Genesis literally. He pointed out that everyone knows about the natural world via their own experience and reason. So when Christians made claims about the earth that were clearly wrong, how could they then expect to be taken seriously when bearing witness on spiritual matters? 

 

With modern instruments and telescopes, our knowledge of the earth and heavens has increased dramatically since Augustine’s day. Evidence from myriad sources – radioactive dating, plate tectonics (the slow movement of continents giving rise to mountain ranges), background radiation from the big bang, positions and movements of stars and galaxies – all points to billions of years of existence, not six thousand years as claimed by those who take Genesis literally.  The new Webb telescope is peering back into history a staggering 13.5 billion years to the very beginning of the universe. Boggles the mind!

 

The ratio between a 4.5 billion year old earth and a 6000 year old earth is the same as walking through a forest of 300-year-old trees at noon and thinking they had been planted at 8:30 a.m. Thus those who believe in a young earth are missing the full grandeur of creation. 

 

Indeed, they are robbing themselves of living in truth that sets us free from living in ignorance. Recently someone explained the apparent age of the earth to me by suggesting that God made the universe with the appearance of age. It looks old – like a pair of stone washed jeans – even though it is young. This worn-out explanation reduces God to a deceiving trickster. What a stark contrast:  Scientists giddy with excitement as unexpected discoveries reveal new truth versus those who oversimplify the truths of scripture and reject the truths of nature because of their sincere but misguided aspiration to honor God. 

 

Since, as Augustine noted, the purpose of the first chapter is not to give the chronological details of creation, what then is its essential message? The author makes it clear through the six-fold repetition, “And God saw that it was good” punctuated the seventh time, “And God saw all that he had made, and it was VERY good.” 

 

This deific pat on the back is striking because it contrasts with a loving God’s compassionate admission in the second chapter, “It is NOT GOOD for the human to be alone.” 

 

The wisdom literature confirms this conviction.  Ecclesiastes 4: Two are better than one. Pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. One may be overpowered.  How can one keep warm alone?

 

God remedied the aloneness with a companion for Adam – a helper for life. 

 

Then came the Fall. As with Icarus, humans sought to fly too high, to know more than was intended and instructed, causing a cascade of calamity. Post-Fall, what now is God’s plan for human companionship?

 

 We muddle through this fallen world redeeming what we can and waiting for the full redemption.  While the Biblical case concerning who can marry continues to be studied and debated, God’s compassionate proclamation, “It is not good to be alone” from this ancient book is a beacon of hope. 

Good Living in the Michigan UP

  

HS #86 2022.9.8

 

Good Living in the Michigan UP

 

I vacation each year in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. As soon as you cross the Mackinac Bridge, life changes. Instead of SUVs, you see rusty pickups and kayaks atop cars. Canoeing and kayaking are ubiquitous in the north country.  Once when on a remote canoe trip in the Boundary Waters, I spied in the distance a broad-shouldered, flannel-shirted figure muscularly thrusting a canoe towards our landing. Hitting the shore and nodding acknowledgement, the paddler deftly heaved the canoe up on her shoulders and quietly disappeared along the portage path. You read it correctly, “her.” Impressive. 

 

Interesting people. My license plate is “EXP LOG.” I chose it half dozen years ago expecting STEM folk to honk when they passed. EXP stands for “exponential” and LOG for its mathematical relative “logarithmic”.   Alas, I have driven these six years unacknowledged. Until this past vacation. A woman approached me, “May I ask you a personal question – what does your license plate mean?” I explained it. She responded, “Oh, I thought it meant “Expert logger.” Of course, I’m in the UP. 

 

No lack of cultural experiences. Each Wednesday I join a dozen other string musicians playing Celtic music at the Munising Falling Rock Café/Used Book Store where locals congregate to play games. I recently met the daughter of the only American sailor on Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition. 

 

Rules are relaxed. Years ago, I brought a dozen Hope College Outdoor Adventure Club students for Labor Day weekend camping on the Au Train beach. Upon arrival, one asked, “May we stay here? The sign says ‘No camping or overnight parking.’” I reassured her that I had camped and overnight-parked for years, never having even noticed the sign. They remained concerned until a late arriver explained that she had stopped in Munising at Family Fare to ask directions to find our group. The Alger County sheriff happened to be behind her in line. He answered, “Oh, your friends are camping on the Au Train beach.” We enjoyed a weekend of illegal camping under his watchful eye.

 

I once returned home from vacation to find a $125 fine from the City of Holland because I had a few weeds (milkweeds as I recall) in my lawn over 8 inches high. The City Council had recently passed an ordinance and, like a child with a new toy, it was being zealously enforced. Only after getting pictures of the lawns of city council members, several of whom were in technical violation of the ordinance, did I convince the city to waive the fine. In contrast, in the UP I have a “Natural Indigenous Wildflower Lawn.” That is, I let the local weeds grow as they want. The result: My lawn is filled with wild raspberries, wild blueberries, and blackberries – compliments of seed-bearing birds. My breakfast of shredded wheat and granola never tasted so good. More altruistically, there is also milkweed for the monarch butterflies, now endangered with their numbers cut in half in recent years. Holland would do well to reconsider its priorities. 

 

And the air! Holland gets its air across the widest east-west spot of Lake Michigan, but it is flavored by Milwaukee. Au Train sits at the widest north-south point of Lake Superior. Its air comes across 160 miles of fresh water from Canada. I should bring back jars of it to sell. 

 

 I DO bring back the water – 30 gallons this trip. I collect it from a spring cascading over a ridge by Au Train falls. Nothing wrong with Holland water, but natural spring water, collected by many in the UP, is a treat. All without wasting plastic. 

 

But perhaps the best aspect of the UP is the opportunity to recreate in pure nature. I frequently kayak the Black, Pigeon and Kalamazoo Rivers in West Michigan, but I stay in my kayak. Kayaking the Au Train River allows for swimming and bathing in the crystal clear sandy-bottomed river. (Sand is a great exfoliant.) There are also rope swings and places to jump from bridges. 

 

I’ve taken advantage of those in past years, but this year I joined the class of people who have jumped from Blackrock Cliffs into Superior in the northern corner of Presque Isle Park in Marquette. It’s a rite of passage in becoming a true Yooper. It compensates for the other rite of passage – eating a pasty. Pasties are good if eaten occasionally – once every ten years is about right. White fish, on the other hand 

Natural Education

  

HS #85 2022.8.11

 

Natural Education

 

In the rotunda at the entrance of the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago is a quote from the scientist/inventor George Washington Carver, “Reading about nature is fine, but if a person walks in the woods and listens carefully, he can learn more than what is in books.” Interestingly, while Thomas Jefferson learned of nature via his extensive library, his fellow Founding Father Benjamin Franklin learned from nature itself through keen observation and myriad experiments. 

 

As a child growing up on the outskirts of Des Moines Iowa, much of my early development came from exploring the ten acres of wild land behind the parsonage. My friend and I dug a fort which entertained the men of the church as they noted our progress each week. How much character development comes from digging a hole! 

 

With that in mind, I bought the plot of wooded land with a stream behind my house on East 12^th Street. It stands in contrast to the manicured designed parks all around us in Holland. Nothing wrong with them, but by their very design, children are meant to do activities that adults have intended for them. 

 

On the other hand, in my backyard plot I am continually surprised by what the neighborhood children do – building forts out of logs and branches, zip lines, dams, paths. What a great place in a residential neighborhood for children to “own.” 

 

Indeed, a running stream offers abundance of fun. How many times have I taken Hope College students and other friends to the stream that lies a half mile south of Laketown Beach. It’s just the right size for several ambitious souls to dam up, watch the water collect, and then destroy. The water movement and resulting formations of sand formed in a couple hours models geological structures built by rivers over eons. 

 

My little backyard stream also attracts and sustains abundant wildlife to watch – steelhead, crayfish, opossums, woodchucks and occasional more exotic things. I’ve seen a fox pass by my backyard window. 

 

The fact that we need such natural interaction can be seen in how we design our indoor environments. Those remodeling 19^th century homes in Holland may find layers of colorful paint on the woodwork in their homes. Indeed, after working outside among the trees all day, bright colors were a nice change of pace. But now, largely removed from nature, we not only keep natural surfaces intact, but also design the plastic surfaces of cars and furniture with the appearance of natural wood. 

 

In the U.S. we fare better than Europe. Several years ago, I took the Dutch son of the architect of the Hope College Kruizenga Art Museum with me for a trip to the Boundary Water Canoe Area (BWCA) in northern Minnesota. As we passed out of Grand Rapids going north on US 131, he noted that this was the first time he had seen a “wild tree.” As with a wild animal, a wild tree is not intended and cared for by humans, but is there of its own accord. (The BWCA was a stretch for him – he stayed in his tent safe from mosquitos.) 

 

Aristotle’s principle of moderation and the Golden mean can be applied to learning from nature. The Outdoor Discovery Center here in Holland is a great example. Children are given opportunity to play on manufactured playground items, but these are placed in a natural setting. I recently enjoyed watching my friend’s five-year-old scamper up the boulders and logs after each turn down the slide. 

 

The collection of area parks - Holland State Park and our county parks - is another prime example where humans have designed areas to make them accessible and fairly safe while still offering opportunity for natural exploration. How fun it is to kayak up the Black River enjoying ducks, king fishers, and occasional osprey all within sight of Holland homes and businesses.

 

I say “fairly safe” because there is still a balance to find. Cushioned rubber mats and rounded edges on playground equipment prevent injuries, but do not teach children the natural consequences of taking risks. Understanding the risk of harm is helpful as children grow and hopefully fully engage in living lives of learning and adventure in the wild of nature.

 

Then our children can live their lives in the spirit of Carver, “I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.”