Devotions

His soft fur was stunningly white, his eyes, crimson red. And his ears were floppy; hence, the name.

Floppy went everywhere with us. He had been a gift to me, a birthday gift. Dare I admit that Floppy was a ...puppet, and it was my ...35th birthday?

For whatever it’s worth, this was no ordinary puppet – he was the Cadillac of Rabbit Puppets. After our diligent search over 3 States to find a white Steiff rabbit puppet, our perseverance finally paid off., and Floppy was soon an entertaining addition to our life.

What made him so realistic-looking, besides his top-of-the-line fur body, his glass eyes and great whiskers (I’m losing some of you here, stick with me) was the fact that one hand worked his head and arms while the other worked his feet. So every inch of Floppy moved.

This came in particularly handy since Floppy's first assignment was as "Special Assistant to the Director" (me) in the 6-and 7-year-old choir class at church. And he earned his title!

His arms, sporting brass finger cymbals, taught the children the steady beat. His right leg was "programmed" to thump out the accented beat. and, of course, his left foot directed the melody.

Floppy seemed to teach more than I did. At least they were more attentive when he was assisting with the lessons. And not just music theory. We learned about manners, patience, sharing, listening, and other niceties of life. He “told” them all about God's love.

Having never mastered the art of ventriloquism, I deemed it necessary from the start for Floppy to whisper in my ear and have me relay his message. Okay, so it was the chicken way out. But it beat having people watch my lips (...ny lits...!) See what I mean?

Floppy's extreme "shyness" made it crucial that the room be absolutely quiet before he would emerge, hyperventilating, from his colorful cloth bag. Whatever works, I say. And this truly did. They loved Floppy --- he was a delight for us all. The fact that everyone knew he was worked by a hand or two inside didn't seem to diminish his effectiveness or spoil the fun.

Our adventures with Floppy were many. Two are especially memorable.

First, at a conference in Switzerland, a man named Dr. Charles Ryrie got up to speak after Floppy had done his thing with hyperactive song-leading, finger cymbals and corny jokes.

“Now THAT’s a tough act to follow!” Dr. Ryrie quipped when he got to the podium. “And I was watching you adults –more enamored with ‘the rabbit’ than the kids.” Then he turned to Floppy and added, “I hope you and I can have a photo op later.” We never did.

Second, on our final music night in Rwanda, Africa, the guitars and banjos strummed and picked with great panache, while Floppy accompanied them... on a goat-skin drum. Bouncy African children with huge grins and contagious giggles gathered in front of us, as Floppy waxied eloquently on his instrument. He was a one-man (one-hare?) percussion section, using a banana from the tree outside, for a drumstick. (You learn to improvise in that country.)

Suddenly I felt a --splattt... against my face... then another....--splotttt... and another...! And... uh-oh... could it… is it…? AAaaaargh …it was!...Banana Goo, splattered and smeared all over the goat-skin drum. Hurriedly, I bowed out carrying the drum under one arm and “drummer" under the other, in a desperate search for goat shampoo.

That stuff''s never around when you need it, ever notice?

Well, it's been several years since Floppy went into retirement, and I happened upon him the other day. He was but a lifeless bundle of fur-like fabric, useless, obsolete. It was hard to imagine this was the same critter that tromped through life with us over the years.

Then I put my hands inside ... and he "came to life."

Instantly, the powerful visual of Corrie Ten Boom flashed into my mind., her illustration about the glove and the hand.

“No glove [or puppet, I might add!] has da ability in and of itself, to do any-ting,” Corrie affirmed in her endearing Dutch accent.

“Only as da hand enters into it and begins moving and acting in some capacity is der any ‘life’ or function. Dat is how da Holy Spirit vorks in us. Ve are da ‘glove’ --- He is da hand!...”

I wiggled and worked Floppy a bit longer before laying him gingerly back into the trunk. But it wasn’t without a surprising tear, or several, spilling out onto my cheek. Could it have been from the poignant memories of times never to be re-lived, or the gripping reminder of “da Holy Spirit’s vork’ in me moment by moment to bring me to life? Grateful tears either way.

If you have been a "glove" trying to be and do things of your own accord, why not invite the "hand" to come inside and reside --- and to work through you, all those plans and adventures He has for you!

“God has given us His Spirit as proof that we live in Him and He in us.” –I John 4:13

Floppy the Rabbit

The Real Source of Life



	Floppy the Rabbit The Real Source of Life His soft fur was stunningly white, his eyes, crimson red. And his ears were floppy; hence, the name. Floppy went everywhere with us. He had been a gift to me, a birthday gift. Dare I admit that Floppy was a ...puppet, and it was my ...35th birthday? For whatever it’s worth, this was no ordinary puppet – he was the Cadillac of Rabbit Puppets. After our diligent search over 3 States to find a white Steiff rabbit puppet, our perseverance finally paid off., and Floppy was soon an entertaining addition to our life. What made him so realistic-looking, besides his top-of-the-line fur body, his glass eyes and great whiskers (I’m losing some of you here, stick with me) was the fact that one hand worked his head and arms while the other worked his feet. So every inch of Floppy moved. This came in particularly handy since Floppy's first assignment was as "Special Assistant to the Director" (me) in the 6-and 7-year-old choir class at church. And he earned his title! His arms, sporting brass finger cymbals, taught the children the steady beat. His right leg was "programmed" to thump out the accented beat. and, of course, his left foot directed the melody. Floppy seemed to teach more than I did. At least they were more attentive when he was assisting with the lessons. And not just music theory. We learned about manners, patience, sharing, listening, and other niceties of life. He “told” them all about God's love. Having never mastered the art of ventriloquism, I deemed it necessary from the start for Floppy to whisper in my ear and have me relay his message. Okay, so it was the chicken way out. But it beat having people watch my lips (...ny lits...!) See what I mean? Floppy's extreme "shyness" made it crucial that the room be absolutely quiet before he would emerge, hyperventilating, from his colorful cloth bag. Whatever works, I say. And this truly did. They loved Floppy --- he was a delight for us all. The fact that everyone knew he was worked by a hand or two inside didn't seem to diminish his effectiveness or spoil the fun. Our adventures with Floppy were many. Two are especially memorable. First, at a conference in Switzerland, a man named Dr. Charles Ryrie got up to speak after Floppy had done his thing with hyperactive song-leading, finger cymbals and corny jokes. “Now THAT’s a tough act to follow!” Dr. Ryrie quipped when he got to the podium. “And I was watching you adults –more enamored with ‘the rabbit’ than the kids.” Then he turned to Floppy and added, “I hope you and I can have a photo op later.” We never did. Second, on our final music night in Rwanda, Africa, the guitars and banjos strummed and picked with great panache, while Floppy accompanied them... on a goat-skin drum. Bouncy African children with huge grins and contagious giggles gathered in front of us, as Floppy waxied eloquently on his instrument. He was a one-man (one-hare?) percussion section, using a banana from the tree outside, for a drumstick. (You learn to improvise in that country.) Suddenly I felt a --splattt... against my face... then another....--splotttt... and another...! And... uh-oh... could it… is it…? AAaaaargh …it was!...Banana Goo, splattered and smeared all over the goat-skin drum. Hurriedly, I bowed out carrying the drum under one arm and “drummer" under the other, in a desperate search for goat shampoo. That stuff''s never around when you need it, ever notice? Well, it's been several years since Floppy went into retirement, and I happened upon him the other day. He was but a lifeless bundle of fur-like fabric, useless, obsolete. It was hard to imagine this was the same critter that tromped through life with us over the years. Then I put my hands inside ... and he "came to life." Instantly, the powerful visual of Corrie Ten Boom flashed into my mind., her illustration about the glove and the hand. “No glove [or puppet, I might add!] has da ability in and of itself, to do any-ting,” Corrie affirmed in her endearing Dutch accent. “Only as da hand enters into it and begins moving and acting in some capacity is der any ‘life’ or function. Dat is how da Holy Spirit vorks in us. Ve are da ‘glove’ --- He is da hand!...” I wiggled and worked Floppy a bit longer before laying him gingerly back into the trunk. But it wasn’t without a surprising tear, or several, spilling out onto my cheek. Could it have been from the poignant memories of times never to be re-lived, or the gripping reminder of “da Holy Spirit’s vork’ in me moment by moment to bring me to life? Grateful tears either way. If you have been a "glove" trying to be and do things of your own accord, why not invite the "hand" to come inside and reside --- and to work through you, all those plans and adventures He has for you! “God has given us His Spirit as proof that we live in Him and He in us.” –I John 4:13 Copyright 2007