David:     Karen, I’m sure this podcast, Before We Go has the feel of an aging couple trying to negotiate life before we both pass on to the next world, and I guess that’s who we are.

Karen:     Well, that’s a surprise. No, of course it has that feel.

Intro:      Welcome to the Before We Go Podcast featuring Dr. David Mains and his wife noted author Karen Mains. Here’s David and Karen Mains.

David:     This has been an incredibly busy time for us all of a sudden. I don’t know how it happened. Well, I guess I do know how it happened.

Karen:     It’s easy to forget. Our son moved in with us, which we’re really happy about.

David:     After probably 17 years of working, his company that hired him was having trouble. They had to lay off people. So, he all of a sudden had a change in his life. So, what is he going to do? We said, “Come in, live with us for a while, figure out kind of where you are.” Our son’s been in television. He’s won a number of Emmys. But he’s also wanting to write. So, I said, “Come live with us and you can get that novel finished and then kind of figure out where you want to go.”

Karen:     We have time to figure out where you want to go. His house sold within two days so that pushed things along. And a lot of things went into a storage locker, most did. But then a lot of things went into our garage, and we just sort of jammed it into the garage. So, we’ve been spending time getting that organized. It’s been almost a month because Joel has insisted that we do it right, which meant shelves and a worktable. And it’s wonderfully organized.

David:     To our advantage, yes.

Karen:     Yeah, much to our advantage.

David:     But we finally got that garage completed and we can drive the car in once again.

Karen:     Well, get two cars in this window. I mean, it’s amazing, isn’t it?

David:     It is in ours. So that’s been good. Now on top of that, I have completed the first draft of a book and I sent it out to what we call first readers anyway and said, “If you could take time to read it and then give me your suggestions.”

Karen:     This is a real gift to the writer.

David:     Yes. And several people made the same suggestion which in my mind says they’re on to something. And it also means that I have to rewrite and that’s a pain in the neck but it will make the book better.

Karen:     Yes, right.

David:     So that’s where I am, but that’s going to take a lot of work to get that book done. And on top of that, another long-time project is beginning to come together finally, Karen. The Tales books, I recorded the first two with sound effects. Now the third one, people keep asking, when are you going to do the third one? And the truth is I never will. I never will because I don’t have a full-time worker assigned to that.

Karen:     You can’t do it the same way that we did the first two with sound effects in the music bend and I mean it was a lovely piece, but that meant that you had to go back and start all over and recording those books and their 12 stories in each book. So that’s 36 stories altogether.

David:     You can record two and maybe three on a given day when you go to somebody’s studio because it just takes a while to rehearse them and everything. So, all that’s kind of come together at the same time. And I was told, “Could you listen to these and give final approval because we need to move ahead if we have those books on tape available for Christmas guests.” And all of a sudden, I’m thinking 36 of those to go through. Oh my god, how am I going to put all this together, so we’re swamped.

Karen:     So, they’ve been edited but in the editing process in audio as it is in anything written, there are always things that people miss. It’s an amazing thing that what can get through. Even books that are printed, you go back and find printer’s errors in them. So anyway, that’s what you’re doing.

David:     And I’m feeling the crunch. So, I don’t know how to suggest to people the way to do it right because I’m not doing it right myself. And I also know that I’m married to a woman who has a lot of things on the stove going on, right?

Karen:     A lot of things, she’s probably not going to finish before she goes. So, I think what we’re trying to say to ourselves, and this may be helpful to some of our listeners, is that you want to choose carefully the projects you commit yourself to in this stage of your life, probably any stage in your life, except when you’re younger, you think, “Well, I’ve got years, I’ve got decades.” We can’t think that way any longer and just not being able to think that way, thinking that every day takes us closer to that day of passing over. So, then what are we going to commit ourselves to in this time of our life?

David:     I wrote it into a sentence.

Karen:     Of course, you did.

David:     You almost nailed it by what you said. As we age, we need to learn to choose carefully the unfinished projects we take on. And I’m thinking, “I do pretty well. then all of a sudden, I’m overwhelmed. How am I going to get these things done because they all came at once?” And then I think Karen’s worse than I am. She still wants to run for president.

Karen:     Oh, you rascal. I’m too glad I don’t. Well, yeah, I do have several major projects that I’m wanting to finish. Some I think are maybe more important. I have a book on listening that I have trialed and taken through lots of listening groups on. I need to write about that process because the impact of that listening process is so powerful in people’s lives.

And then because I’m basically a creative writer, I always say my ministry has always been subsumed by our ministry. I would like to spend the last time of my creative life just taking on a novel that I framed and formed. I have a whole, one of those black plastic caring cases filled with notes, filled with ideas, filled with research. So, before I go, I would like to finish that novel and send it out. But that’s probably the least important, except the theme of it is about spiritual friendship between men and women. And you would never see anything written on that. And I think it could be a very powerful book for people to read because it shows how men and women can do the work of God together out of spiritual friendship and collegiality.

David:     You had a good thing happen just the other day. And a friend of yours said, “I would like to take all of your books and record them if you wouldn’t mind.”

Karen:     On audible, which is where books are recorded. Now these days you get them on Audible, A-U-D-I-B-L-E, which was extraordinary because I have 23 books out there. And so, she’s just about finished the first book that she took on. And she’s a wonderful reader. She has a dramatic background, but she has been certified to be an Audible reader. So, she’s very, very good. That was a gift.

David:     Yeah, and God is good. And I’ve tried to come up with a scripture that says, choose carefully when you get old. And all I can think of is Paul. You know, he didn’t follow the advice we’re talking about. At least he didn’t see that because, I mean, he’s been in so many countries and then he’s writing, I still want to get to Spain.

Karen:     Yeah, but he wasn’t as old as we are. He had a calling.

David:     I’m glad you said that because I feel a little funny advising the Apostle Paul as to how he should live his life.

Karen:     I think some of these dreams are given to us. And the Lord knows that we won’t be capable with the lifespan that he knows we have left to fulfill. But they become prayer passions and someone else will pick up those passions. Maybe after we’re gone, people we don’t even know, because we have held these things to our hearts, and we have prayed diligently that they would be fulfilled.

David:     I’m going to just give a feel of this one project I’ve been working on. I’d like to have our listeners hear one of the tales. There are 36 of them. And all of a sudden, I was told by the people involved to put all the pieces together. You need to do these quickly because we want to have them available for people to be able to get them for Christmas this year. And I’m thinking 36 of those. You know, if I do six a day, I could get it done in a week, but I’ll never do that many years.

Karen:     No, should you.

David:     Given day.

Karen:     But perhaps by the end of this month.

David:     This is simply me as an older grandpa now reading these stories once again. The one of the apprentice juggler kind of speaks for itself. So, we’ll kind of close out with that.

There was a juggler in Great Park, the land of the king, who wanted to perform with the juggling master’s troop more than anything else in the whole world. But he had something terrible hidden in his heart, a secret he had shared with no one. The Apprentice Juggler was sure he would shame the troop in tonight’s performance. He knew he would drop a baton during the pyramid cascade. Then the juggling master would know his secret and he would lose his place in the juggling group. A knot in the pit of his stomach felt like a tug of war between giants.

Standing in the middle of the practice field, the Apprentice Juggler warmed his hands in a patch of morning sunlight. He loosened his fingers with limbering exercises. He started tossing balls in a basic crisscross pattern. The Apprentice Juggler concentrated. He could hear the words of juggling master’s first lesson. Teach the balls to dance. The word ball is from the French. It means to dance. Make the balls dance. The balls did dance in the Apprentice Juggler’s hands. As long as he worked alone, he did fine.

In this last year as an apprentice, he had learned to toss rings, batons, clubs, and eggs, even unboiled ones. He could spin plates on sticks. He could balance umbrellas on his forehead and shoulders and hands. All at the same time, he put three balls in motion. Throw, throw, catch, catch, throw, throw, catch, catch. No one knew he was battling his inner count. No one knew that a different rhythm was ticking in his heart than in his hands. It was only when the Apprentice Juggler worked with the other student jugglers, or when he did a routine with the troop that things went wrong. He tripped. He dropped batons. The others thought this was because he was new at juggling, but the young man knew that his inner count was just plain different. He didn’t want anyone to know his secret, especially the juggling master. To work with the troop was the glorious goal of every apprentice.

The balls danced in the Apprentice Juggler’s hands. He switched to the two-in-one hand. He practiced showers. He picked up two clubs. He tested their weight in each hand. He tossed one high. It turned twice in the air, a double. He started a third club with an outside foot kick-up. It turned twice in the air. Soon even the clubs were dancing. He guarded himself against his inner rhythm.

One of the other fellows was juggling clubs. He moved closer to the Apprentice Juggler and started passing. Six clubs now looped into the air. The young man timed out loud. Pass, self, self, pass, self, self, pass. “So far so good,” thought the apprentice juggler. If only he could count out loud as he was now. But every juggler knew that was the sign of an amateur.

“Very good, very good,” shouted the juggling master. “Excellent work this morning and I have wonderful news. The king will be present at tonight’s great celebration. We will be performing for him.” The whole troop cheered. But the Apprentice Juggler’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach where the tug of war was raging. He had juggled at great celebrations before with the other students. Tonight, he was supposed to solo then appear with the troop in the finale. What if he failed before the king? He would serve him right for keeping this hidden thing to himself. All he had ever dreamed of was seeing the king smile in pleasure at his juggling. He’d even imagine the king walking over to him and saying, “Well done, young man, you have a special gift.”

The juggling master’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s practice the finale!” The troop moved into position for the pyramid cascade. Four jugglers in a row. The signal was shouted, Hup! All counted inwardly, one, two, up. Three jugglers hopped on the shoulders of the first four. The signal again, Hup! One, two, three, up. A hand grasped, a scramble, a hop. The two apprentices climbed to the very peak. The clubs began looping upward, turning and spinning up the pyramid. Eight came from the bottom, six passed from the middle. The apprentice turned the rising clubs back down toward the outside men. It was quick work, but simple, as long as the count was kept.

The Apprentice Juggler knew that all nine members of the troop were timing inwardly. Throw, throw, catch, catch, throw, throw, catch, catch. With horror, he realized his count was off again. He had been silently timing throw, throw, catch, throw. He caught himself and changed his pace, but it was a loud danger signal.

Should he tell the juggling master? But how could he bear to have his place taken from him and given to another? What would happen if he followed his inner count? What disaster would befall him? With sagging shoulders, the Apprentice Juggler walked home from the practice field.

Later, with lagging feet, he made his way to the huge clearing in deepest forest. Here the great celebration always took place surrounded by the circle of sacred flames. The subjects of the king were beginning to gather in inmost circle. The sacred flames had been lit and they flickered and danced in a huge ring. Rangers in their dark blue cloaks stood posted around the flames. The music of celebration had begun.

The Apprentice Juggler watched as celebrants walked through the gateway of flame into inmost circle, making entrance, the ceremony was called. He saw each one become real as he or she did so, for the sacred flames showed persons not as they seemed, but as they truly were. All disguises were gone.

The laughter and the music and the joy within the flames called to the Apprentice Juggler, but he held himself back. How could he make entrance with this hidden thing in his heart? Wouldn’t his secret be revealed when he became real?

The funny old caretaker walked through the flames. He’s formed dim for a moment in the bright light, then he made entrance. He became tall, straight, broad shouldered wearing the dark blue cloak and silver clasp of a ranger. Caretaker was not what he seemed. He had become ranger commander, chief protector of the park, an intimate advisor to the king himself.

The Apprentice Juggler squirmed. He remembered how Caretaker had found him as a young child, hungry and abandoned, and taken him to Mercy who had loved and nursed him. He remembered how Caretaker and Mercy hated dark and hidden things. He decided to wait for the juggling master and tell him the hidden secret that his inner count was different and dangerous to the troop. The Apprentice Juggler would ask him to choose another for the finale. He was like, it was the only way. A sab shook his shoulders. Nevermore the feel of the batons or the thrill of tumbling objects, nevermore the weight of the ball popping into his palm than popping out. Nevermore the wonderful rhythm of the troop. They would give his place to another. What would become of him? Where would he belong?

The young man knew he would never make a good baker or gardener or forester. He couldn’t stand singing or dancing. He had absolutely no desire to be a ranger. The only thing he had ever wanted to do was make balls and clubs and rings and batons and eggs and boil it, dance. In anger the Apprentice Juggler tossed the balls he held. This time he kept his own count. Sure, enough the balls moved at awkward intervals. The juggling was not smooth. The rising and falling rhythms were hazardous. He had to tell his secret. He would never be like the other jugglers.

A beggar was approaching the circle of fire. The man wore a brown cloak with a hood that covered his face. He carried his staff and limped. “Alms, alms,” he cried. “Pennies for the poor, the poor.” The beggar stopped by the boy and asked, “juggler are you performing for the great celebration?” The young man shook his head. Suddenly he wanted to stutter out his secret. He wanted to say, “I have something hidden in my heart.” The beggar motioned for him to step closer and whispered, “I saw you juggling just now. Keep your own count. Listen to the rhythm of your own timing.”

The apprentice juggler was amazed. How could a beggar know his count was wrong when he had guarded the truth from everyone? The beggar laughed. He said, “I understand. My rhythm is different too.” With that he turned to make entrance. The boy heard the rangers shout “To the king! To the restoration!” The former the man was dimmed in the flames then he stepped into inmost circle. A cry of recognition went up. People came running to welcome the new arrival. They shouted greetings and call to one another. The Apprentice Juggler gasped. He had not been prepared for this becoming. The man stood there, changed. He was as tall as Ranger Commander and handsome. The light from the flames reflected his gold glints in his hair. He bent and swung a little child up to his broad shoulders.

Mercy, young and beautiful now that she had made entrance, ran from a place within the circle and took his hand. She called to her husband, Ranger Commander, who came and saluted the king. “The beggar is the king,” thought the apprentice juggler. The beggar is the king! He had said, “Keep your own count.” The king raised his one hand still holding the little child on his shoulder with the other. His voice commanded, “Let the celebration begin.”

The Apprentice Juggler raced to make entrance. The jugglers were on first and he was due to solo early in the performance. In response to the king’s command, the musicians began to play a joyful foot tapping melody. It called the subjects out of deepest forest through the sacred flames and into inmost circle. The jugglers were gathering at the heart of the celebration. The king and his followers circled round them. Everyone clapped in time with the music. The whole troupe was juggling each on their own. Some tossed balls, some looped rings.

Then it was time for the Apprentice Juggler’s first solo act. All the others stopped. The young man’s heart was in his throat. What if a ball dropped? What if he tripped? What if he couldn’t control his count? Then he remembered the beggar king in his words, “Listen to the rhythm of your own timing.” He listened. A new count was rising in him, his own count. Joy came tumbling. It filled his hands, his heart. The count was different from anything he’d ever heard. Throw, throw, catch, catch, catch, catch, throw, throw, throw, catch, catch, catch, catch, throw. He tossed an orange high, high into the air. Then another, then a club. He caught the first orange right before it hit the ground.

The crowd went wild. He caught and tossed the next falling one off his foot. The people were amazed, and they laughed. The Apprentice Juggler dived for the club, tossed it, turned to somersault, caught the next inches off the ground, popped it back up into the air. The crowd roared. He heard murmurs. “Oh, he’s wonderful. Never seen a juggler like him before. How different.” He went on listening to the inner timing. Throw, throw, catch, catch, catch, catch, throw. He juggled and somersaulted and dived and counted.

Finally he was done. The crowd laughed. They clapped. They yelled “Hurrah!” and stamped their feet. The apprentice juggler bowed. He stood straight and bowed again. This time when he looked up, he was looking directly into the eyes of the king. The king was smiling, his approval. “A clown, a clown,” someone was calling out. It was the juggling master. “You have the rhythm of a clown, he crowed. You look like you can’t do it, like you might drop something, but you don’t. A clown is the best juggler of all.”

The juggling master became stern. He shook the juggler’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me your rhythm was different?” “Because,” stammered the young man between shakes, “I thought I would lose my place in the troop.” The juggling master stopped shaking him. “Lose your place? Find your proper place, rather didn’t you know that in the great celebration, all who desire a place find a place?” With that the juggling master put his head back and laughed. “A juggler with the instinct of a clown. Oh, they are rare, they are rare. What a troop we’ll have, we’ll bring down the house. We’ll make the balls dance.”

So, the Apprentice Juggler lost his original place in the troop, but found another. For all who live by the rhythm of the inner timing which the king approves, find a place in the kingdom all their own. More than any, they live happily ever after.

Outro:     You’ve been listening to the Before We Go Podcast. And if you would like to write to us, please send us an email at the following address, hosts@beforewego.show. That’s all-lower-case letters, hosts@beforewego.show.

If you’ve enjoyed this podcast, please remember to rate, review, and share on whatever platform you listen. This podcast is copyright 2021 by Mainstay Ministries, Post Office Box 30, Wheaton, Illinois 60187.