Out of the Mouths of Babes

By G. E. Shuman

When I’m about to discuss certain subjects, I like to be aware of what manner of people will hear the discussion. I think that this is a wise thing to do. Such care has, likely, saved me many verbal confrontations, and possibly a few physical ones as well, over these many years. It may surprise you that not every single (or married) person in the world agrees with me on topics discussed on this page of the paper, although, of course, they should. Knowing this, and knowing also that it is impossible to ‘read’ readers’ minds, especially since I have never met most of you and only suppose that you are really out there, somewhere, I will proceed with some precautionary advice before continuing here. That is, if it is possible to proceed without continuing.
My advice is, if you are not inclined to listen to a short, true story of the simple faith in God of one of my very favorite people, that you should stop reading now. There is good reason for this advice. It is, simply, much easier for you to stop reading, than it is for me to erase what I have written, as I have already written it, and also happen to like it… like it or not. But, as earlier noted, you can simply stop here and move on to the classified pages if that would make you feel better. I am even willing to immediately assist you in that undertaking, if you feel strongly about it. (I like that word ‘undertaking’, especially at Halloween time. But that was last month.) Okay. Let’s go! I will count to three. Now be ready! One! Two! Three! Quick! Turn the page!

Hello? Are some of you still here? Even some of you in Montpelier?
I thank you all, and commend you for your bold curiosity. The people who turned the page and are now reading about someone’s used snow blower that is for sale, are a bit disappointing. But not you! Now, I will tell you my little story.
The fact is, there are all kinds of mentions of children, in the Bible. In one place Jesus tells his followers to let the little kids come to him, because little children are what they will find when they get to heaven. (That is in the book of Matthew, chapter 19, verse 14). In another place He actually says that unless people accept his kingdom as a little child does, they will never even get there at all. (Matthew 18:3.) If you don’t believe me, even though I have never admittedly lied to you, look the verses up.
This Biblical evidence is proof enough to me that God has a very high opinion of the opinions of little children. If I were to guess, and you know I will, I would say that He loves their simple, honest, trusting, happy way of thinking. It is not until they are older that some of them complicate things by becoming dishonest, distrusting and depressed.
The idea for this column came to me after reading a bit of wonderful wisdom from the youngest of the ten best grandchildren in the world. She is our beautiful granddaughter, Ayvah, and is only two years old. (I sent the paper a picture of her so you could see her. I hope they used it with this column, because grandparents have the right to brag if they want to.) The wisdom came as Ayvah chatted with her mom, our daughter, Cathy. Their short conversation took place as Ayvah was looking out a window. It went like this:
Ayvah: “Mommy, look! The sky is turning rainbow!” At that, her mom looked out the window too, to see a beautiful, pinkish-purplish-blue sunset-sky.
Ayvah’s mom: “Wow, Ayvah! God is a great artist, huh?”
Ayvah replied to her mom, as they looked out at the beautiful sunset: “He makes us happy!”

To me, there’s a spark of great insight into the mind of God, in the joyous comment of that innocent two-year-old. It occurs to me now that such sparks may be the ONLY insights we have into the mind of God.
One thing is for certain. I do, now, understand why “of such is the kingdom of heaven.” This precious child found happiness in the beauty of God’s creation that day, and even gave Him the credit for making her happy. Why, in the world, do not we all? “Out of the mouths of babes…”.

(I hope you’re glad you didn’t turn the page to read about the snow blower.)

Curing Virus's

By G. E. Shuman

Last Monday night I stayed up past twelve-thirty, trying to comfort and cure the victim of one of the most virulent viruses ever to enter our home. At the time I did realize that you can’t really ‘cure’ a virus, but I was trying my best, anyway, as any compassionate person would do. The patient, without naming names in the newspaper, was really out of it, and there was something quite urgent in the situation, at least it seemed that way to me. There was very little communication from the one who was ill, and what little there was made almost no sense to me. “What in the world did that mean?“ I heard myself whispering after receiving several mixed-messages, as the long evening dragged on. Perhaps a fever was the cause of the random words, but I really had no way to be sure.
I stayed by the side of the dear ill one, nearly the entire evening, and was really at my wits end, in my efforts to help. None of the usual attempts at comfort seemed to work at all. In fact, everything I did actually seemed to make matters worse. I was sure that the bug, or virus, or whatever it was, was contracted through some contact outside of our home, and was, evidently, a fairly serious one. In the end I decided that getting rest might be the best course for both of us to take. So, I quietly slid away, and headed off to bed. I knew that if rest didn’t work, the next step would be a trip to get a true diagnosis, and professional help the next day.
At this point, (or before this point,) you may have guessed that the ‘patient’ I was attempting to nurse back to health is not my wife or one of my children. It is just a lifeless, flat chunk of hinged plastic, filled with a huge, compact assortment of extremely complicated and very expensive electronic parts. It is the laptop computer that those previously-mentioned members of my family use every day. Its poor health was of great concern to them. The possible cost of curing the virus it had contracted was of great concern to me.
Tuesday morning, after my usual routine of jumping briskly out of bed and onto the treadmill for a fast hour‘s run, or maybe just dreaming of doing that as I painfully hauled my tired self out of bed, still asleep, (I’m not sure which,) I went right to my patient’s side. I guess I thought the ‘computer fairy’ might have come in the night and cured the virus, or perhaps the night’s rest might have helped, saving me lots of money and aggravation. Besides, I thought, maybe this had all been just a bad dream, (right before the treadmill nightmare.) But, alas, (What does the word ‘alas’ actually mean, anyway?) when I woke the patient, the same symptoms were still right there, glaring me in the face.
I don’t know how you feel about such times, but I just can’t stand wasting countless hours trying to get expensive, sensitive, stupid devices to work, when they simply don’t feel like doing that. I have little patience for anything that ruins my sleep, and still won’t do its job. I seriously considered using the trash can behind our house to solve the problem. Thankfully, and with gratitude for Lorna‘s quick-thinking, Sandy, the wonderful technical lady at my wife’s place of employment agreed to take a look at the fading patient.
That evening I drove the computer to her. As we, (the computer and I) rode, somberly, silently, to the ’doctor’s office,’ I felt a true sense of relief at being able to hand this problem off to an expert. And, the truth is, I was relieved to just get the thing out of my home. Within a day Sandy had skillfully injected the computer with whatever electronic serum was needed, and had expertly brought the frustrating thing back to full health. I am very thankful for this… at least I think I am.
As the years continue to pass, everything electronic continues to grow increasingly complex, requiring ever-expanding commitments of precious time, money, technical education and care from us mere mortals. (Maybe we are the infected ones.) We rely on help from wonderful people like Sandy, and businesses like The Geek Squad, to cure the ills of those devilish, fragile, frustrating machines. Perhaps it is time that we take a step back, (technologically speaking,) to examine where we have been, and consider where we are going.