Tim Tebow, Joel Osteen and colliding Christian principles

I was once very involved in the Christian faith. Having been born into families of practicing Baptists and Methodists, Christianity was as much a part of my life, and the lives of almost all those I knew, as air. In other words, church was part of daily existence that was not questioned. Habits were handed down. Church was our way.

Today, I am far removed from the region of my childhood and those early church routines. I cannot call myself a good Christian. Maybe I never could. I have not raised my sons in the habits of the church.  Few people with whom I associate adhere to the Christian faith as demonstrated for me as a child.

Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow has caused discussion regarding Christianity to move into the forefront of millions of lives. People who might never have given religion a thought cannot now escape its display. Love it or hate it, Tim Tebow has shown the world what a good Christian is supposed to look like.

My early affiliation with Christianity might play a role in my opinions regarding Tim Tebow. I would admire him anyway for his backbone. I would admire him anyway for his willingness to take abuse from the press. I would applaud him anyway for commitment to personal principles in places personal principles are known to be scant. I admire him and applaud him more, perhaps, because he sets the example Jesus, as Jesus is presented in Christian doctrine, would surely approve.

My favorite public Christian is Joel Osteen, leader of Joel Osteen Ministries, a mega-church in Houston. He is a superstar among Christian ministers and a terrific speaker. I find his sermons compelling and refreshing. Not since I watched Billy Graham on television as a child have I felt such deep admiration for a Christian speaker.

Joel Osteen has been careful to avoid hot topics that divide people, particularly homosexuality. While, admittedly, he could be riding that fence for business reasons, I happen to believe he avoids the subject of same-gender relationships and marriages because he knows this topic is among those that have driven people in droves from Christianity. His success depends on bringing people to the faith rather than alienating.

Oprah Winfrey will have none of the fence-riding. Recently on her show, she pressed guest Joel Osteen regarding his views exactly on homosexuality. In a flourish of obvious reluctance, Joel Osteen did not refute what he claims is presented in the Bible. Joel Osteen said homosexuality is a sin. His furious back-peddling that ensued could not un-ring that bell.

I should not be surprised by Joel Osteen’s declaration when backed into a corner on public television by Oprah Winfrey. His declaration, however, stings. Watching him, my childhood religion bled from me hemorrhagic fashion. I grieve the loss.

Tim Tebow, in all his righteousness, has done more to polish the public image of Christianity than all who might have tried the past half century. But, at the end of the day, Tim Tebow, Joel Osteen and countless others flying the banner of  Christianity must agree that the faith upholds a doctrine of exclusion, and I find that a sorrowful shame.

We'll show you our Castle Rock if you show us your Lone Tree

I like living in Castle Rock, Colorado, a community with rock solid identity. Not that our rock in any way resembles a castle. It more closely resembles a baked potato. But, Spud Rock lacks a certain respectability, and with Ship Rock already taken, someone along the way looked up and deemed our looming piece of granite a castle rock. Maybe it was a drunken patron leaving one of the bars along Perry Street long ago.

Regardless, we can proudly point out our community identity to all newcomers and visitors. We can touch it, climb it, picnic around it. We stand in front of it and take pictures. It shows up in countless advertisements, on official documents and in local calendars. Our kids in grade school can draw it. It is our very own shared talisman.

In contrast, no one who lives in neighboring Lone Tree seems to knows anything at all about the actual tree. I don’t see the tree decorated for the holidays. I don’t see a park around it or even a placard in front of it. Maybe the tree died or someone accidentally used it for firewood somewhere along the way. Was it a pine tree? Was it an oak? When asked, residents of Lone Tree seem stumped.

“Your town is called Lone Tree. Is there an actual namesake tree?”

This question is invariably met with a look of befuddlement and a quick shrug. Nobody knows. Or, more likely, nobody cares. I cannot say I blame Lone Tree citizens for spending little time pondering the matter. I am sure people who live in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, care little about who so enjoyed playing the game that they named an entire town after it.

I visited the City of Lone Tree website (cityoflonetree.com) in search of information about the mythical solitary tree and found nothing. The city site features a history section with nary a mention of the tree. The site offers answers to dozens of FAQ’s. People who live in Lone Tree apparently ask a lot of questions, but “where is our tree?” does not appear among them.

If you head west on Titan Road off Highway 85, then turn north on Roxborough Park Road en route to Chatfield State Park, you will, after the turn, immediately see on your right an eye-catching, solitary tree in an expansive field of grass. I imagine such a single tree might have been spied by one of the founders of Lone Tree, Colorado, but who now knows? Since the truth has been lost, I propose the tree near Chatfield State Park serve as a substitute lone tree for Lone Treeians suffering landmark envy, though the solitary tree lies in Littleton.

Littleton. Little town? Was it founded by someone named Little? Or, was the original settlement tiny and, if so, where is the small settlement that grew big but kept the name?

Porcupine takes up residence in our yard

After nearly seven years in this neighborhood, I keep thinking I have seen it all in the way of wildlife. Not so. We have a new guest or, we are hoping, resident in our yard here in Castle Pines Village. Yet another amazing Colorado creature has shown itself .

In early December my husband, Kevin, called my cell one morning after I had left the house to tell me a giant porcupine was sauntering across our driveway. Before he could gather his thoughts and a camera, the big, bulky creature retreated to his hideout--a culvert that runs underneath our street on the south side of our yard.

Our street is not more than 100 yards east of a dedicated wildlife corridor along Daniels Park Road here in Douglas County. This zone of protection is what facilitates visits, I think, from fellow world travelers--elk, bobcats, deer, foxes, wild turkeys, owls, bears, coyotes, occasional mountain lions and a wide variety of smaller creatures such as snakes, salamanders, rabbits, colorful birds, voles and field mice. Our yard offers its very own animal kingdom.

In researching porcupines, I learned that they are among Colorado rodent natives and can weigh up to thirty-five pounds, second in size only to beaver. Their approximately 30,000 quills, and their abilities to puff them out when threatened, create a somewhat deceptive appearance size-wise.

Porcupines are mostly nocturnal. Their only significant predators in this region are humans because only vehicles and guns can take them down. They have a vicious manner of self defense. Foolish creatures, such as dogs and humans, get too close to porcupines and pay the price. Porcupine quills, slapped into intruders with thick, powerful tails, are needle sharp and barbed. Once they pierce flesh, removal is tortuous.

In warm months, these waddling herbivores munch clover and a variety of plants. In winter, they gnaw bark and twigs. They use their long claws to scale to the tops of trees where they disappear among foliage, relax and chew. They are also drawn to salt, which is why many porcupines spotted in the open are dead on the road in states that use salt to diffuse snow and ice.

For weeks, the story of the porcupine living in the culvert beside our house seemed a possible hoax. Only my husband, one son and a friend across the street claimed to have seen the thing they described as “a slow moving boulder”. My younger son and I were skeptics until last night when my husband came in and alerted us to look out the window. There was Culvert (as our new guest has been tagged), making his way up a huge pine tree right outside our window. He scaled to near the top, made himself comfortable among the branches and became part of the tree to the human eye.

We like Culvert and want him to stay. He is quite shy and seems to enjoy the privacy of the long, dark tunnel under our street. The last thing I want to do is blow our friend’s cover. No paparazzi, please.