Today, my sons and I viewed a dinosaur exhibit at the
Science Center - Dinosaurs in Motion - an unusual display of recycled metal hammered
into mechanical art of life size creatures.
Running from exhibit to exhibit, my 9 year-old was the effervescent
teacher and I, the student, as he rattled off from memory the crucial details
of these fantastical beings. I learned
each one's scientific name, prehistoric era, length, height, and food
preference. He even pointed out the
difference between an herbivore's teeth and a carnivores'. I was beyond thrilled as you can imagine. His eyes lit up as he reached a new display,
and my eyes lit up as I watched his eyes light up. We enjoy 2 hours of pulling levers and
pushing dials to make these rustic dinosaurs come to life. With each yank of a pulley, a metal claw or
jaw or spike came to life and gave new meaning to recycled cans.
To commemorate our fond memories at the gift shop, Tyler
opted for a small replica of his favorite dinosaur - the Velociraptor - packed
in a solid square of sand with a small hammer, pick and brush. He was elated. Cloud nine.
"Mom, when I get home, I am going to start right away digging out
this dinosaur to prepare for my career as a paleontologist." "That's great son." "I can't wait to get home, Mom. This is
the best present ever. When I'm done with
this one, I want to get the Tyrannosaurus Rex or the Diplodocus. I can do them all, Mom. This is
great practice. I am so excited. I
really am a chatterbox when I'm excited."
One archeologist makeshift tent in the yard and a couple of hours
of digging later, this resolute boy starts to see some bones. It's a tough job. He has to carefully scrape, pick, dig, and brush
off the sand to extract his treasure. Too
hard, and the delicate bones will break.
Too soft and the sand doesn't budge.
It's tightly compacted around each stray piece. Tyler is engrossed. His mission is to extract the individual
bones in order to construct a complete and whole product.
Later that evening, I had my own hours of digging at a
dinner date with my longtime mentor and friend.
The main topic of discussion.
Buried treasure. While I didn't
have a tent in the backyard, I did have a pick and shovel and some determination
(like mother, like son). In hunt for
purpose and making a difference in this life, I have found a bone here and there
- scraped the surface. But, it's
difficult. Tougher than I thought. And much tougher than the instructions on the
box say. You have to store the good
advice to remember in the bad times. You
have to believe that you will find your way out even when you fall in a dark
hole that may or may not be near your dinosaur bones.
I think many of us are searching for our "finding"
in some pretty packed earth. Some of us
are searching in the wrong spot. Some of
us have missing pieces or may have misplaced our tools, and some have just
given up. But, my son's tenacity and
belief that he could get this thing out sparked something in me. His excitement and fervor spoke volumes to
me. That sometimes all we need is a will
and a way. A will that we can do
it. The confidence that we know the
right way and the reaffirmation that we have been given the right tools. We've had them all along. We have been "equipped for works of
service" and can attain the whole measure of who we are supposed to
be. Life's storms are inevitable. Tossing us back and forth by waves. But, finding our way back to solid ground and
picking up our tools is the important part.
We have to keep digging and scraping our way to the truth. There is no clean or easy way to do it
really. It's about reaching our fullness
in who we were designed to be. Fullness
in spirit. Fullness in life. And whether it takes a pick or a shovel or a darn
backhoe, I'm going to find it!
