Hmmm, the what now?
After 13 years of marriage/aviation school, you'd think I'd know. Why, just earlier that same evening we were online dream-shopping for sexy used Pilatus PC-12s and trying to decide if we'd rather have that, or a de Havilland Twin Otter in the hangar (Hub told me long ago, BTW, that I may not get a P3 Orion just for hurricane-hunting, as that is shamelessly excessive). Friends, I have at least one shiny 12 lb. cylinder as a bookend in my library. I know a DC 10 from an MD 11, pshaw! Quick, what's Bernoulli's Principle?
Where was I?
Oh. Yah. So, to me--preoccupied as I am with a certain type of political pontificator-- a Jesus Nut sounds like, well, a-you-know-what. Then Hub explains (in that overly-eager gizmo whirligig-enthusiast voice all technology geeks have) to me, AKA "moron," what it is indeed, ie: the name give by pilots to that one crucial nut/pin in a rotor or prop mechanism that holds the whole works together.
And I think, I like that. Now that information, I can use.
See, here's a case where one little tidbit in life can sum up a lot. The teachings of Christ, my lynchpin.
No matter what I am doing--drilling Toe endlessly in BT therapy, swabbing the decks of my man-filled home, learning something new, raging against social injustices, sloggin through the pain and fatigue of affliction, making a Minnesota funny, grillin' with my church ladies, encouraging my beloved, walking in the quiet of the Word--none of it means anything if it doesn't come from a place of Christ. My love for my family and my fellows, my hunger for justice, my refusal to let myself relax back into the ease of simple anger and bitterness over things that seem so hateful, so beyond the power of anything to change. All that comes from the heart of the Savior, the original Jesus nut. And without Him, all that's useful in me is completely undone.