Condor Queen

NAMPA — A girl in Idaho came up with a plan to save the California Condor.

Sara Riggins, a 7th grade student at Nampa Christian School, said lead shot in dead animals as well as poisoned meat set out for other predators killed many of the now-endangered birds.

She said state governors should prohibit the use of lead shot in bullet manufacturing.

Riggins chose to study the condor after hearing about an essay contest on television. She did Internet research and visited the World Center for Birds of Prey. The Boise center has 19 pairs of California Condors.

Riggins wrote up her ideas and sent them to a contest headed by Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. And she won a trip to San Diego.

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Bruised Sky

A swift wind pushes past the roses, leaves pink-tinged petals scattered across the lawn. Baby pears, still white-green, cling to the ends of waving branches while water drops drip from the corner of the carport roof. A cat, cornered by the rain, waits in the woodpile, eyes the shadowy undersides of purple clouds, hovering overhead, out of reach and glaring grim.

Suburban Nights

The crickets are back, singing outside my window. They serenade the night sky, slowing as the temperature descends. A next door dog barks once, drags his chain in a circle, settles in. The neighbor's window flickers blue. A streetlamp on the corner adds an amber glint to pebbles in the road. And in front of every house, black-shadowed sedans and pick-up trucks parked close to the curb.

Music Scene

NAMPA -- A local ska band dreams of putting Nampa on the map.

In the same way third wave ska revolutionized the California music scene in the early 1990s, members of Remote Confederation say they want to start a music revolution in Idaho.

But it won't be an angry revolt. These Skyview High School musicians characterize their performance as positive.

"It's not angry rock," Jordan Tafoya, 18, said. "(We want to) make people happy with our music."

Tyler Bedell, 15, agreed. He said the band provides a fresh contrast to the angry punk style offered by many area groups.

"We don't like screaming about death," Bedell said. "No screaming."

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Michelle Couldn't Hear

At Boise State's spring commencement today, the university president asked for a moment of silence. We waited, almost 10,000 of us, packed to the rafters. The band played a slow rendition of "America the Beautiful," and as it ended, a man yelled. The shout — muffled by bodies and distance — sounded something like a cap gun, a far-off explosion, small but distinct. He let loose a second time and then a third. He was calling a name. Michelle.

Another voice joined his from the opposite end of the pavilion, and then — a sudden swelling — the building was filled with a chorus of calls for Michelle and her classmates.

I'm still haunted by the moment, filled as it was with longing. Thousands — trapped in their seats — reached out with their voices, a compelling cacophony.

Had we been closer, we never would have been so bold.

Parallel Play

In worship, Sunday morning, I realized that I like these people, but we don't have much in common. We stumble through each song. We have trouble getting along so much of the time. There are so many negative feelings that I associate with this group. But washing over it all, I feel love. Inexplicably, I do love them.

In this love, however, I continue to experience frustration as well. 1) It seems we are more interested in programs than people. 2) There is so little opportunity for communion with each other as a part of our worship. 3) Physically, all our attention is on the platform. We are so separated.

Difference-making

GREENLEAF -- Crystal Patrick said her brother's death of leukemia four years ago changed her life.

Now the student at Greenleaf Friends Academy is working to make a difference for others.

"I was really selfish," Patrick said. "Now I want everything to be for people who need it. I can make do with what I have."

Patrick started a community service project to collect toys for patients at St. Luke's Children Hospital.

"I thought how all the kids when my brother was sick, they didn't have a lot of toys," Patrick said. "There are a lot of kids who are in isolation."

She explained that these children cannot share toys with other patients, which creates a constant need for new toys at the hospital.

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Driving to Kansas

My brother finished his first year of college this week. I’m driving to Kansas today to pick him up and bring him home for the summer. It’s a long drive from here to there, so I plan for the shortened week I’ll face on my return. There are things that have to get done, and time keeps ticking into the future. That’s where I spend much of my days — in the future, thinking, planning, strategizing, worrying. But I don’t believe that’s where I’m called to live.

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Jesus asks. Later, he offers this advice: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

It’s advice that makes sense, but I find it’s almost impossible to let go of my plans and petty concerns. God calls me to live in the now and experience life as He created it — one day at a time. Instead, I race ahead, looking to what comes next, concerned by my preconceived notion of what may or may not occur. And I too often miss the treasure God has created for me in this moment.

God, help me to grow up. Teach me to calm down. Guide me in your love. I desire Your peace, but I don’t know how to get there.

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Who Needs a Million?

There’s a billboard in town that tracks how many millions of dollars wait to be won in each week’s Powerball lottery. The number’s been over 100 the last two times I passed. It seems excessive. Even $1 million is more than I’m on track to make in a lifetime of work at my current salary. I’ve tried to calculate how I might spend the money (assuming I bought a ticket and won), but I tend to run out of ideas after the first $100,000 or so. Maybe I lack imagination.

But then I’m reminded of a commitment I made just over two years ago. While reading a book on simple living, I felt God’s call on my life for total surrender. I realized I’d given of my time and interests, but I had withheld my finances. Not consciously. I tithed regularly and donated as I could. But when I reviewed my expenses, I noted that close to $2 out of every $3 I earned were earmarked for costs associated with owning a home. I couldn’t remember God promising me a house or making it a priority that I have one. And I know there’s no record of Jesus — raised as the son of a carpenter — taking time to prepare a residence on earth. So I sold it.

And something interesting happened.

I suddenly had more money than I knew what to do with. I had not yet developed the discipline of giving, but God — always patient for me to pay attention — opened my eyes to genuine need in my own community. Then, this last year, God helped me take the next step, and I reduced my hours at work so I might have more time to pursue Him, to discover what God created me to be, to experiment with living.

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