Ponderings

Life is Reflective -- Choose Your Source

2012-01-26T22:19:00.003-05:00

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us that those who are merciful will receive mercy (Mt 5:7), those who judge will be judged (Mt 7:1-2), and that we should treat others as we wish to be treated (Mt 7:12). These principles are often seen as L-shaped, i.e. God -- either in this life or the one to come -- will treat us (the vertical leg) as we have treated others (the horizontal leg). However, it doesn't take much sociological research to see that there is much truth in these statements on a strictly horizontal and immediate level. You can hear it in our language:

"I wonder how she would feel if people treated her that way!"

"It's time to give him a taste of his own medicine."

"You gotta fight fire with fire."

"He started it!'

"Don't hand it out if you can't take it."

"Now there's an example of the pot calling the kettle black."

It seems we are born with a natural instinct to treat people the way we perceive them to be treating others, particularly on the negative side of life. Those who criticize others are easy to see in a critical light. Those who are unforgiving aren't easy to forgive. Those who speak harshly to us stir up a hardness within us that makes us want to respond in equally harsh terms. It's not easy to be generous with people who hoard everything that comes their way.

Not only do we tend to reflect people's behavior back to them, we also tend to justify our own behavior. It's easy to see the attacks that come my way as unprovoked and undeserved. In contrast, my attacks on others are matters of self-defense or intended to let them know how it feels to be attacked so they don't do it anymore.

Into this back-and-forth clash of negative reflectivity come Jesus' teachings to reflect not the negative behavior of those around us but the love and grace, mercy and forgiveness of our heavenly Father. It's the positive side of reflectivity that is L-shaped; and God is the initiator. As God forgives us, we are to forgive others. As God is generous with us, we are to be generous with others. As God sees past what is ugly within us, we look past what is ugly in others. As God values us, we look for value in others. Rather than a mirror reflecting the negative behavior of others back to them, we reflect the love of God. "We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19). As others have put it, we are moons -- cold dark rocks until we start reflecting the sun's light for all to see.

It is easy and natural to reflect the negative attitudes of those around me back to them, to be no more generous or accepting or forgiving than they are. It takes a deliberate choice to pass on to others the grace and mercy I receive from God. It helps to include on my list of ten things to remember a reminder to choose carefully my source for reflectivity.

#6 -- Someday I will dance

2012-01-15T22:23:00.002-05:00

The sixth thing on my list of Ten Things to Remember actually comes from a reminder to myself I wrote years ago. In its entirety, I don't think any commentary is needed.

Someday I will dance unhindered.
I will glide across the great expanse of heaven
with bright sparks of freedom and joy in my eyes,
leaping and whirling in perfect rhythm with the music.

With that gracefulness and freedom
waiting in the great beyond,
I can afford to rein in my exuberance for today,
matching my steps to those around me
no matter how slow or clumsy.

Because someday ...
I will put on my dancing shoes and dance.

#5 -- Humiliation has yet to prove fatal

2012-01-01T22:31:00.008-05:00

The fifth thing to remember on my list of ten has the morning newspaper for a memory hook. In this case, the newspaper is over my bowed head as I try to cover up my embarrassment. I am sure my life is over, that I am literally going to die of embarrassment. But as I wait for death to come the moments drag on ... and on ... and on... and it starts to occur to me that humiliation is not actually life-threatening, that I will almost surely live to see another day. So I take the newspaper off my head and add this insight to my list of ten things to remember, hoping that by remembering sooner rather than later, I can avoid the agony of waiting futilely for death to rescue me from my shame.

My earliest memory of shame happens to also be perhaps my earliest memory of being in church. My memories don't go back far into my preschool years and in this case I am old enough to know at least some of the words of the song being sung. As I sing along with enthusiasm, I am suddenly aware that the song is a "special," not a congregational, that I am the only one in the congregation singing. Oh, the shame! I bury my face in my mother's lap and cry piteously. I don't want anyone there to see me ever again. I just want to escape somehow. And amidst many, many moments that slip past me during that time of my life, it's that moment of shame and embarrassment that imprints itself in my mind and persists for these many years. Still, I survived the moment and went on to sing with gusto again.

I've grown up a little since that time. Now when I accidentally sing when I should be silent (in whatever form that takes), it is generally only mildly embarrassing to me. I make a mental note to find a way to avoid doing it again and move on. Usually. Sometimes I hide for a while, still waiting to die of embarrassment. But death consistently fails to rescue me and I eventually return to the game.

Someone has suggested that we wouldn't be nearly so concerned about what people think of us if we knew how little they do. It's a helpful thought, although it's offset in my mind by the realization of how many formative moments in my life have come from people who had no clue how powerful their words were and knocked me down without noticing. I don't want to be that kind of person. Still, it helps in times of shame to realize that most of the people I think are staring at me are actually too preoccupied with their own stuff to focus in on my embarrassment. There are a few perks to living in a world populated by self-centered humans. Even those heaping scorn on my head or pointing out my flaws will eventually get bored and move on. It's not as though I'm not even more broken than they know. One of life's many underrated blessings is the fact that no one gets to observe every stupid thing we do. The odd person who has nothing better to do than enjoy what they can see of my many slips in life is pretty desperate for entertainment.

And so, in moments when shame and humiliation flood my soul and make me look for a hole to crawl into, I try to instead fix my focus on life on the other side of that moment, to remember that such moments inevitably pass by and the only casualty is my pride, which always manages to recover and come back around to trip me up again. With this in mind, I can even consider the idea of throwing my stubborn pride to the lions when it's the only thing standing between me and more effective living. What freedom there is in realizing that humiliation has yet to prove fatal.

#4 Broken Bread, Poured-Out Wine

2011-12-11T22:26:00.003-05:00

The fourth entry in my list of Ten Things to Remember is food sitting on the four-sided, four-legged breakfast table I sit at on my three-point (“h”-shaped) chair wearing my two-legged pants that I put on after pushing the one button on my old-fashioned alarm clock.

These words, of course, find their roots in the Last Supper and echo through time and space during the celebration of the Eucharist. "Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you." and "This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 15:24-25, KJV) However, they come to my list of things to remember via an intermediate source – Oswald Chambers as memorialized by his wife in My Utmost for His Highest. Nine times in the 365 entries of this classic devotional, the reader is called to give his or her own life as broken bread and poured-out wine.

C. S. Lewis writes in Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer about hanging “festoons” on the familiar phrases of the Lord’s Prayer during Church of England liturgy, contemplating various aspects of each line. This is sort of what I do with broken bread and poured-out wine. Beginning with the nouns, I think about bread and see it as a solid presence. Being bread in the world is simply getting out there and being present, showing up. When I think of wine and its symbolism for blood, I see it as representing life. Wine is the sparkle of life that accompanies the simple presence of bread.

Picking up the adjectives, adds new dimensions. The idea of being broken takes a lot of pressure off my days. I tend toward perfectionism. I want to get life right, keep my promises, fulfill the expectations others have for me, meet standards of excellence. But I fall short. There are more expectations than I can possibly meet. I can’t always keep my promises, and even my best efforts often leave people disappointed and irritated. Besides, there are sad situations I can’t fix; there is needed help I can’t give. I am broken, less than perfect. I not only am unable to be all things to all people, I don’t even get out of the gate in that regard.

And so I go into the world broken yet present. Broken bread is still bread. And brokenness is the best I have to offer. Rather than drawing back from life for fear of being exposed and rejected as broken, I push myself to offer my presence to others even in my broken state. When I am knocked flat and fear I am irreparably broken, it helps to remember that I was already broken and live in a broken world where there is value simply in being a solid, dependable, nourishing presence.

Poured-out wine adds a dimension of being dissipated. Bread is a solid. It stays in one place. Wine is liquid. When poured out on the ground it flows and is gone. It’s one thing to be broken but solid. It’s another to pour out my life energy into others and watch it flow away and be irretrievably gone. When I am knocked flat and it seems life it draining out of me, it helps to see such a state as one to which I have been called. Jesus told us we find life by losing it. When I choose to live as poured-out wine, it takes the panic out of realizing that I am being drained of my life energy.

As I remember this phrase, I pray daily that God will give me to my world as broken bread (a flawed but solid presence) and poured-out wine (life freely and irretrievably given away).

#3 I am not out of resources yet.

2011-12-04T21:23:00.006-05:00

This is the third item on my "Things to Remember" list. The third "hook" for remembering the list is the (three-legged?) chair you sit on at the four-legged breakfast table after pushing the one button on your old-fashioned alarm clock and putting on your two-legged pants.

For this particular list I can't sit on the chair because it's loaded down with stuff, reminding me that I'm not out of resources yet.

It's actually a different image the lies behind this reminder: a memory, a snapshot of a moment in time. I am slaving away in the kitchen, my least favorite room in the house, while my husband and children are in the living room. There may be guests in there with them. I am a most unhappy Martha (see John 10:38-41) working my fingers to the bone washing dishes and feeling sorry for myself while my imaginary sister Mary is sitting in the other room listening to Jesus' stories. (Why does everyone assume Martha liked kitchen work? Maybe she was simply the responsible one thinking, “SOMEbody has to be busy in the kitchen. This work isn't going to do itself!”) I'm exhausted by all the labor.

Really? I asked myself that day. Am I truly overworked? Would I be so exhausted if I weren't alone? Is this about me being overworked or is envy pulling me down?

The truth is, I'm not overworked in that memory. I had plenty of energy left. A little work in a modern kitchen isn't going to do me in. It really was a case of envy because I was working while others were not. I have never in my life experienced complete and total exhaustion, any more than I have ever truly been “starving to death,” and it's disrespectful to those who are driven to the absolute end of their resources to say I am when I'm not.

Well ... there was that one bout with mononucleosis at age 20. I was pretty much wiped out for a week or two. But even then I wasn't unable to move at all. I had to severely curtail my total energy expenditure, but there was always enough energy to stumble through one more task if absolutely necessary.

This reminder starts with physical resources but doesn't end there. Sometimes the threat of exhaustion comes in other areas. The “I can't do this anymore” cry in my heart can be a response to any number of aggravating circumstances. Still, the same questions apply. Really? There are absolutely no resources left? Not even for one more time? Five if the situation is guaranteed to change after that? Ten if someone offers some encouragement and support? The answer has never been, “Yes, I am absolutely and completely exhausted. I cannot take even one more step.” Maybe for some people in some situations, it is. It has yet to be true for me. Every time I hit this item on my list I have to acknowledge its truth to myself.

There is another dimension to this reminder. Thus far, I have focused on personal resources, inner strength to endure one more moment. If I look around, there are any number of alternatives to relying on my own strength. Resources abound! I can recruit help. I can walk away and leave the work for another day or another crew. I can apply some mental energy to finding a quicker and easier way to get done what needs to be done. I can incorporate the ideas of others into my own processes. I can reassess the need. (Is that what Jesus encouraged Martha to do?) I can pray for an extra boost.

Someday I may hit a wall, a dead end from which there is no escape, no rescue. But this far along the journey I have yet to encounter that wall. I always have options. I may feel like I'm running on fumes and about to keel over, but when I look more closely I can say with conviction, I am not out of resources yet! Most of the time I'm not even breathing hard.

#2 My Friendship Is not Merit-Based

2011-11-27T17:04:00.009-05:00

This is the second on my list of "Ten Things to Remember" in times of personal distress. By the way, the book I read had a list of "hooks" to memorize as an aid to memorizing other things. The first item on the list was the alarm clock (an old-fashioned type with one button on top and perhaps set for one o'clock) that wakes us up first thing in the morning. I don't need that aid to remember God's love for me as the top item on my list. It's simply a given.

The second item is the pants with their two legs that we put on when we get up. I do use this one, moving from the pants to a teen book series called The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants about four friends and one pair of pants.

And now on with the commentary.

You probably don't want me for a best friend. I am an introvert, which in this case means I enjoy my own company. I shop alone, go places alone, love to stay home alone. I once had a friend who called me to chat when she got a minute to herself. Really? You are home alone and you pick up the telephone just to chat? I was amazed at the idea. The friendship I offer is more of an out-of-sight-out-of-mind sort of thing.

When someone knocks me down, it's tempting to withhold even my weak version of friendship from them. However, as a follower of Jesus Christ, I need to remember his observation in Matthew 5 that anyone can love those who love them back. It's loving those who despise us that is the challenge and brings the greatest reward.

What this means is that I try to offer a friendly smile, pleasant conversation, and genuine goodwill to anyone and everyone whether or not they deserve it. The creepy passive-aggressive library patron. The social butterfly who has plenty of friends and doesn't even notice me. The sour-faced clerk at the store. The rambunctious child. The guy who left his wife, my friend, for a bottle-blond bimbo. The blond bimbo. (And, yes, I'll learn her name and quit calling her names in my head.) And, sigh ... the person who owes me an apology. After all, it's not as though my friendship is such a precious commodity that I have to reserve it for those who have earned it. Nor will withholding it from those who don't deserve it make the world a better place. Although it seems obvious that the way to correct people who are in the wrong is to turn a cold shoulder their way, I don't actually see that approach to be very effective. People seem far more responsive to those who like them. And so I attempt to nurture grace in my living and keep reminding myself that my friendship is a gift, not something to be earned.

Thing to Remember #1 -- God Loves Me

2011-11-20T18:23:00.008-05:00

I promised to flesh out my Ten Things to Remember list. Thing #1 seems as good a place to start as any.

1. God loves me.

This is first on the list not because it is the most helpful but because I'm sure it ought to be most helpful. After all, the love of God toward someone like me is downright astounding.

In reality, in times of distress I tend to pass right over this item and move on to something more uplifting. There are a few reasons for this:

a. Of course God loves me. God loves all seven billion inhabitants of this earth, including the person or persons responsible for my distress. It's hard to feel special when you're simply one beloved child among seven billion, especially when it's so obvious that at least a few of my fellow inhabitants of earth have some major character flaws that make loving them quite difficult.

b. The Bible may tell me God loves me, but when there are louder voices -- both inside and outside my head -- suggesting I am despicable, it's difficult to put much conviction behind any self-talk about God's love for me.

c. At least as many times as I have heard about God's love for me, I have also heard about God's wrath toward the disobedient and unfaithful. It's hard to associate unfailing love toward all with a God who will commit most of the population (the "unsaved") to eternal torment in hell.

When I was a child, I was convinced that God wouldn't love me if there were a choice, but it would look rather odd to have John 3:16 read, "For God so loved the world (except one particularly unattractive little girl named Marsha) that he gave ..." I was pretty sure God had no love for me as an individual but simply didn't find me worthy to single out as an exception. I have since learned to accept God's love for me as an individual but not enough for my assurance to stand up well against the blows of people who obviously don't see anything lovable about me. No, this thing to remember alone is not going to be able to pull me up out of the doldrums. It will take more.

Still, it's a good place to start on my road back to emotional equilibrium when the storms of life knock me down. It reminds me that I have been convinced in the past that I am not despicable in the eyes of God and I might want to think twice before accepting such an assessment now without question.

Ten Things to Remember

2011-11-13T16:08:00.010-05:00

Several years ago I read an old book from the library about remembering names and faces. I was hoping for help with my face recognition problem, but got instead mostly a system for remembering lists of items. I had fun memorizing a few lists and then mostly forgot it. Except for one list I developed at the time. I call it simply "Ten Things to Remember". In this post, I will share the list. In the near future on this blog I hope to do some commentary on the "ten things", some of which may be incomprehensible in this version.

Here they are:
1. God loves me.

2. My friendship is not merit-based.

3. I'm not out of resources yet.

4. Broken bread, poured-out wine.

5. Humiliation has yet to prove fatal.

6. Someday I will dance.

7. Life is reflective; choose your source.

8. What goes around comes around.

9. The words are not the message.

10. Suffering produces character.

I wish I could remember to "count to ten" in every tense situation and review this list while doing so. I don't always remember, but it's a blessing when I do. Some lines more than others, depending on the situation.

So there's the list. Follow the links where available for commentary.

MS and Michael J. Fox

2011-09-01T06:51:00.006-04:00

Last week I read Lucky Man by Michael J. Fox. Early in the book he states that if someone offered to spare him from the diagnosis of Early Onset Parkinson's Disease and give him back the ten years between the diagnosis and writing about it, he would tell them to "take a hike". Parkinson's Disease (PD) rescued him from a life of alcohol abuse and the licentiousness that comes with a Hollywood celebrity status.

The message of Lucky Man was what I anticipated based on the title. I chose to read it because I hope to embrace MS as a blessing rather than a curse.

I know many people who respond to every setback in life by calling in the prayer warriors to rescue them from Satan's schemes to hinder them by eliminating the problem. Where would Michael J. Fox be today if someone had "rescued" him from PD?

I lost a good friend a couple of years ago to colon cancer. He didn't exit this life willingly. At his request, prayer warriors from around the world prayed for his healing, for continued life and ministry on this earth. Their petitions were not granted and the world is a poorer place for having lost a fine example of Christian love in action. I have yet to see the blessing in that loss.

And yet ... I have learned from it. I learned that we cannot back God into a corner and force Him to give in to our wishes by rounding up enough good people to throw their fervent prayers into the mix. I have never seen a more impressive example of united prayer, both in quantity of people praying and past effectiveness of the prayers of those praying. This was the "dream team" of prayer warriors. Still, the cancer won and my friend's earthly ministry of love came to an end.

There are those who would help me round up my own minor league dream team of prayer warriors to fight back against the encroachment of MS in my life. Some are already rallying the troops. My pastor would gladly anoint my head with oil and lead in prayer for my healing if I agreed to it. But is that what I want? I certainly wouldn't choose to become personally acquainted with MS but now that it has taken up residence in my life do I want to forcefully evict it? What if it is my ticket out of some of my own lifestyle mischoices? What if it is a blessing in disguise? Do I want to pour my energy into waging what could ultimately be a futile war against it without giving it a chance to bless me?

I know the answers to my questions are obvious to many. They count any misfortune as an agent of Satan to be forcefully driven away through the power of prayer. I'm not so sure. I will soon be starting a disease modifying therapy (DMT) drug to try to keep MS under control for as much and as long as possible by ordinary means, but I'm not quite willing to count it as an enemy of my soul and take up spiritual arms against it. It's a physical problem. For now, I think I'll respond by physical means and wait and see how it fits into my life spiritually.

Back when my daughter was playing high school tennis, we were often reminded that losing against a better player provides more learning opportunity than winning against a lesser foe does. I would gladly walk away from this game if I could, but since life has put me in the court against this formidable opponent, I think I'll play the balls that come my way and try to improve my game rather than spending large amounts of time and spiritual energy trying to escape over the fence.

The Value of Space

2011-08-21T15:51:00.002-04:00

A couple of dozen periodicals make their way into my home on a regular basis, ranging from fifty times a year for Time to four times a year for the excellent Notre Dame Magazine -- tracing back to when we had a Notre Dame student living here. There is good reading in those pages. A few come unsolicited, but we pay good money for most of them.

There is also good reading on the internet as well as many more books on my reading list than I can read. And my life is full of duty and responsibility. Time for reading is limited and the magazines often get pushed aside unread. Or I read them and find value in them and feel as though I should preserve them. This leads to piles of back issues cluttering the house.

Over the past 31 years of living at this address, I have come to realize that clutter-free space has value in and of itself. Now I face the question of the value of magazine back issues versus the value of reclaiming the space they occupy. The obvious answer is that the space should win. After all, new magazines arrive every week. Keeping back issues doesn't make sense from a household ecology point of view. The only way to avoid being overwhelmed by material goods is for the amount of stuff going out to equal the amount of stuff coming in.

Still, it's hard to give them up. What if I have missed a wonderful article on braiding garlic in Organic Gardening or will someday want to refer back to that article by Eugene Peterson in Christianity Today? Do I still have the issue where the Notre Dame Magazine presented such a balanced discussion of illegal immigration?

What all this adds up to is the personal insight that I could easily become a "hoarder". You know, one of those people who are gradually buried alive by all the stuff they can't bear to discard. Someone who, when retirement and solitary living frees up their hours, spends their time clipping articles and organizing them into extensive files for their children to discard after they are gone.

Okay, the magazines have to go. Yes, there will be a sense of history lost for a while. I'll need to nurture my appreciation for the beautiful uncluttered space they leave behind and convince myself it is truly of greater value than the printed words I discard.

At least I have never subscribed to National Geographic. That magazine must be collected more than any other. (My evidence for that is the multiple offers we have had at the library from people hoping to regain space in their homes by offering the library the wonderful opportunity of becoming custodian of their collections.)

Still, it's hard to give up all those beautiful words. Who knows when Organic Gardening will publish another article on braiding garlic? If I ever manage to grow garlic and find myself interested in braiding it will I be able to figure out how to do it? Sure, I could just go here and find out in much less time than digging through the files, but I'm just old-fashioned enough for the paper file approach to tug at me and slow my steps as I carry old magazines to the recycling bins. Only sucking it up and nurturing an appreciation for clean lines and uncluttered space will enable me to do it.

Back to cleaning. There's a wedding on the near horizon that will bring us house guests and should provide some incentive for sprucing up the place. Maybe I can even persuade myself to give up the magazines.

Identity

2011-08-14T22:16:00.004-04:00

I started playing the piano at age 5. In third grade the music teacher had me play a Bach Two-Part Invention and explained to the class that they were seeing something unusual. I was surprised by her words. Sure, I didn't know anyone else my age who could play what I could play, but just figured I didn't know what my classmates did outside the classroom.

By high school, music was what made me special, my identity. Then, in my 20s, I moved into an environment where my musical ability was more of a relational liability than an asset. Rather than force the issue, I reluctantly moved on to other interests. Music was no longer a part of who I was. I was an engineer for a few years, then a full-time mother, and later a librarian.

In 2004 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. After the initial shock of hearing the "C" word wore off, I decided I would not join the ranks of people for whom "cancer survivor" is part of their identity. I am not a "cancer survivor" any more than I am a "chicken pox survivor". Cancer is simply one part of my medical history. I had a lumpectomy and five weeks of radiation treatment but treated it as just a small bump in my life.

Now it is 2011. In February, I heard the "C" word again. This time my left kidney was the site of cancer. No relationship to the first cancer. Again, surgery took care of the problem, this time without further treatment, and I declined to allow cancer to define me.

On a Friday evening in mid-June, I noticed I was unsteady on my feet. The next day I developed double vision. That led to a new diagnosis tracing back to a case of optic neuritis I had in 1996. The optic neuritis was a sclerosis. The latest MRIs show that I now have more than one sclerosis. In fact, I have multiple sclerosis. MS.

Now it is time to consider my identity once again. There will be no surgery to put MS behind me. It is a lifetime companion. At the moment, I have no more symptoms than before the problems that cropped up for a few days in June and were resolved with the help of steroids. Shall I become an active participant in the MS community or shall I ignore this unwelcome companion as much as possible? What place do I want to give it in my life during this time when it's still invisible to others?

It has been a while since I have grappled with "who am I?" questions. It will be interesting to see how much of my focus MS manages to grab as it becomes a constant companion. I guess if it starts to take over my life I'll at least have a focus for my blog after all this time.

A Hard Love

2011-04-29T07:56:00.005-04:00

This is last week's "Five Minute Friday" assignment from here. In my first attempt, I learned that I am a hopeless editor at the keyboard. The instructions say, just write, don't edit. I'm not sure anyone would understand what I type without editing, let alone enjoy it. I type faster than my thoughts can gel and have to go back and fix things. However, I do much writing with pen and paper which doesn't lend itself to editing. I decided to try that approach. The next step of publishing those inky words has taken a little longer. But here we go:

START

He needs money. Again. He always needs money. He has no job. What he has is a temper that interferes with steady employment. I think I understand the source of the temper. Life has never given him a fair shake. I wish I could fix it for him. I love him. I want better things for him. But charity isn't the answer. I've helped him out financially in the past, until every encounter started revolving around money and I said I wouldn't give him any more.

Now he's here again with his live-in girlfriend. Her dogs were turned in to the town by her mother as part of a fight between them. Unneutered dogs. $100 needed for registration to get them back. Can I please, pretty please, pay the $100 so they can have registered, unneutered dogs in their impoverished home? They can pay me back next month when her disability check comes in.

Love is hard.

STOP

On writing -- again

2011-04-17T15:49:00.003-04:00

The days are full. I consider the idea of writing here much more than I actually do it. It seems that when the ideas come there is no time. When I finally grab some time, the ideas are gone. If I write them down as they come they grow stale. The things I pondered yesterday seem uninteresting to me today. How can I return to yesterday's mindset?

I think I have a lot to learn about writing.

On Distance

2011-04-15T10:11:00.003-04:00

Five minutes to write about distance for this contest. I have already messed up the logistics of one entry -- no writing, only stumbling through the entry process. And now for the actual writing.
----------------
She's married now. Four hundred miles from home. Not many from around here could make it. Her father and I (her mother) and brother and sister were there. My mother and two of my brothers were there along with a sister-in-law and two nephews. We closed the geographical distance that generally separates us and came together for a day -- from Indiana, Florida, and Virginia to Missouri by plane and minivan. We sat together and, amidst the joy, were aware of those not there. Yet, it was good.

And that's how much I can write in five minutes.

On writing

2011-04-12T20:20:00.003-04:00

As I am subscribing to more blogs, I run across posts directed toward wannabe writers. One such post talked about the hard work that goes into being a published author. I believe it. Even a blog is work. I could put much more time into my posts. Pictures and links would make them more attractive but would also add to the time required. So I just have text. Joining blogging networks would bring me readers, but that would require more time investment than I want to make. So I settle for those who happen by. It's obvious that I need some sort of theme and consistency, an identity for my blog. But I don't have one and just drift from subject to subject.

As I pondered the post about writing being hard work, I realized that I can probably add being published to the list of dreams that aren't likely to be realized in this life. The desire simply isn't strong enough to trump other demands on my hours.

And so, dear reader, I think you will not have any difficulty fighting off the crowds to make comments here. Like much of my life, this place is a low-traffic area, off the beaten path where few find it.

Yet, I upgraded my counter yesterday so I can see more than a small snapshot of the traffic going by. Even out here in the sticks, it's nice to see people stop by now and then and it's tempting to look for ways to attract a few more this week than last week. I'm pretty sure I'm not headed for the big time, but I think I'll at least keep posting now and then.

Thanks for reading.

Strengths and Weaknesses

2011-04-10T21:00:00.004-04:00

Someone asked recently in a forum I read if I know my strengths based on the Clifton StrengthsFinder [tm] assessment from Gallup. I do not. I have had my "spiritual gifts" assessed several times. (My "spiritual gifts" have an uncanny resemblance to my natural talents.) I have also done personality assessments. But I had nothing to contribute to a discussion about StrengthsFinder[tm] results.

It turns out there is a book associated with the StrengthsFinder[tm] assessment. No problem. I am a librarian. I'll simply borrow the book and discover my strengths. But, no, the Gallup people are way ahead of me. Each book comes with a single-use access code for the online assessment. There will be no free results for this exercise. If you want results you have to buy a copy of the book.

Still, I have a used library copy of the book and have read the part up to where I'm supposed to take the assessment. There is angst in this book. The author describes a world that sniffs out and treats weaknesses rather than recognizing and capitalizing on strengths. In the view of those behind the book, this approach is far too common, almost universal.

I have somehow missed this anxiety-producing part of life. Or maybe I'm blocking painful memories. I can't remember a single instance where someone said, "Marsha, you are not good at this. You need to undergo training to boost your skills in this area. You can do anything if you set your mind to it!"

A few samples of the many areas where I am weak:

1. Art -- drawing, painting, sketching. I took general art in school and was required to draw so many sketches a week. I did. They came out better than I expected. I guess I learned something in art class. But they were never good. Still, I got an 'A' for effort and was allowed to move on without notice. No one pressured me to become an art major so I could develop my stunted talents in this area.

2. Cooking. I can bring my scientific, mathematical skills to this task and follow a recipe, but I lack all sorts of basic skills for cooking. The most basic of those skills is interest. When I am stuck cooking, I turn on the kitchen television. This serves two purposes: First, it combines two tasks I would never choose so I at least feel like I'm multitasking and not wasting my time on just one of them. Second, when I lose my focus and start to wander away from the kitchen, the need to turn off the television before leaving the room serves as a reminder of why I'm there, that perhaps I'm supposed to be stirring constantly, not wandering off. Yes, there has been pressure over the years to be a normal wife and mother who can whip up delicious meals for her family and for sharing, but the food industry has offset that pressure by offering an increasing variety of alternatives to cooking.

3. Sports. My lowest grades in school were in physical education. Besides have very little spirit of competitiveness, I also have no natural athletic talent. Other than in PhysEd in school, I have never been pressured to develop athletic skills. When we play slow-pitch softball at church, I suggest that I would be an excellent choice for either team. I throw like a girl with no athletic ability, can't catch, and don't run very fast, but I have a glove for the proper hand and can almost always hit the ball -- usually straight to first base thanks to a poorly-timed left-handed swing.

4. Asking others for help. I used to be very bad at this. I lived by the philosophy that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself. I'm sure people noticed, but no one ever pressured me to take classes on delegation. I had to figure out for myself that there is value in sharing tasks with others -- multiplying the resources available while perhaps saving on the time invested.

5. Making telephone calls, particularly to ask others for help. This is the stuff of nightmares for me. I can't imagine a worse job than telemarketing. It has about the same attraction as dying and going to hell. I turned down many requests when my children were in school to accept a calling list to recruit parental involvement for various projects. Now, I try to include a disclaimer every time I accept the task of making a phone call. It goes, "Never believe me when I say I'll make a phone call. The chances of this call being made are almost zero." I don't remember anyone ever suggesting that I focus on strengthening my calling skills. Usually, they just take their chances because I'm the obvious candidate to make the call. And I guess I actually make those calls often enough to keep getting the assignments, but it's still a definite area of weakness.

I'm left-handed. Back in the dark ages of internet communication, I once subscribed to a "newsgroup" for left-handed people and discovered all sorts of scars among those who had encountered the "hand police" when young. They experienced various levels of persuasion to use their right hands.

There were no "hand police" in my life. Rather there was accommodation. My mother bought an iron with the cord out the back instead of on the side. My utensils were always on the left side of my plate at the dinner table. I'm the one who got piano lessons because I started picking out melodies on the piano with my left hand. I have always experienced left-handedness as something that makes me just a little bit special, never as a handicap that needed remedial action.

The StrengthsFinders[tm] author and associates with their wounds from those trying to fix their weaknesses remind me of those wounded left-handed people. I find their stories interesting but can't identify with them. I was one of the lucky ones. I was given piano lessons so I could develop my natural talents rather than signed up for tennis clinics where I had no hope of success.

I still don't have an official list of strengths to share. I could come up with a list similar to the list of weaknesses I have shared above. My list wouldn't correspond with the terms used by StrengthsFinders[tm]. The descriptors would be more concrete. For example, I am analytical, logical, detail-oriented, and have a natural talent for music. I tend to step into leadership vacuums, leading most easily when people offer to follow. And in this, my sixth, decade I find myself spending substantial time in that sort of environment and voluntarily working on my ability to delegate tasks I'm tempted to do myself.

Still, my analytical nature finds the StrengthsFinder[tm] assessment attractive. Maybe even attractive enough to buy the book just to get an access code. We'll see.

What is a good length for a blog post?

2011-03-30T08:06:00.002-04:00

I have been reading a lot of blog posts lately. One thing I notice is that I go into skimming mode when someone gets too wordy. When I look at my own posts, they meet the criteria for too wordy.

I know a preacher whose sermons are too long. He says he doesn't pay attention to length. How long a sermon lasts is simply how long it lasts. I use the same philosophy for my blog posts. I write until I've said what I want to say. That usually ends up being enough to fill a full page in a word processor. Just as my preacher friend ends up with too many words for his listeners to absorb, I end up with too many words for people to read.

Maybe I need to think in smaller chunks, corral the loose thoughts, trim out the fat.

New goal: for today, for this one post, I will not create a scroll bar in my posting window.

You can tell a lot about a person ...

2011-03-26T12:08:00.003-04:00

I have heard multiple times over the years that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their checkbook. These days I would guess that for those under 30 you can mainly tell from their checkbook that they are under 30 and don't write checks. Maybe that goes up to 40. Actually, I am 53 and don't write many checks. You'll have to look at my Quicken files to find the information that used to show up in my checkbook.

Rather than my checkbook, what you really want to see is my blog feeds to find out what I'm like. I might even be finding things out about myself. I just deleted a couple of blog feeds. Too much doctrine, too long, too frequent, not enough personal observations. The benefit per word just wasn't there. I also added a couple of new ones -- chatty blogs by young adult Christians observing life. I actually read several posts from one and then closed the window in which it was open before realizing I would like to see more from that writer. I tried to follow the path back from current subscriptions to the new candidate and couldn't remember how I got there even moments after making the first trip. I had to look at my browser history to get back to it. I think the original path included a random post from a blog collective, a profile for the writer of that post linking to another blog with comments linking to the third. Or something like that.

The blogosphere has been particularly active and interlinked lately with reaction to a new book by megachurch pastor Rob Bell -- Love Wins. Much of the reaction is negative. (The book's current #1 ranking on Amazon on the subject of faith and #4 ranking overall would support the maxim that there is no such thing as negative publicity.) The comments and comments on comments and links to other comments are good for weaving one's way through the jungle of blog entries. Those who respond with thoughtfulness, grace, and good humor to the negative comments catch my interest. I'm interested to read not only what they write but also what they read.

I haven't ordered the book yet. I will probably read it eventually but have no sense of urgency. I may even wait until I can borrow it from a library rather than making the choice to own it. After all, do I want such a controversial book in my personal collection? What if someone judges me by the books I read?

Okay, that last part was a joke. Anyone looking for evidence on my bookshelves that I might appreciate the writing (and preaching) of Rob Bell wouldn't have to look far. Although I don't see any of his books in my line of view at the moment, the half dozen books by his friend Brian McLaren might be a clue. I may have given away the only Rob Bell book I have purchased and not bothered to replace it. Along those lines, my reasons for not buying the book have more to do with concern that it might not contain enough groundbreaking material to earn a permanent spot on my shelves than fear of what others might think to see it there.

I see from recent posts and responses that a few of my Facebook friends consider Rob Bell a heretic. This is one of the reasons I don't feed my blog into Facebook. Back in the old days, I didn't publish my checkbook register for all to see. These days, I publish thoughts such as these in public places such as this but try not to wave them under the noses of those who see them as evidence that I'm straying from the faith. Fortunately, my profile is low enough that not many of those trying to rid the church of all Rob Bell influences will bother including me in their sweep.

She's plenty able to do what she WANTS to do!

2011-03-04T20:48:00.004-05:00

So I'm lying around pampering my body with its closed-up incision and doing only what I either feel like doing or want done enough to do it. And I keep hearing an echo in my mind of the words in my title. There is definitely a huge "want to" factor weighed in to my choice of activities.

What I'm finding is that I have little tolerance for stress and unpleasant tasks. And it doesn't take much activity at all one day to put me off my feet the next. If I force myself to take on unpleasant tasks, I end up quickly exhausted. But I'm sure it looks selfish and inconsiderate from an outsider's point of view.

Scene #1
"Are you interested in going to Walmart to pick up some groceries?"

"No," I reply in a weak voice, "that would be way too big an outing. I'll just stay here on the couch and focus on getting well."

Scene #2
"The sun is out. Would you like to go walking?"

"Sure! Let me get my pillow and walking stick and shoes and socks and I'll be right with you. I'm thinking I can do two miles this time out."

Obviously, I'm able to walk. Why is it so refreshing and healing to walk two miles on our country roads but exhausting to ride to Walmart and walk through the aisles there? Why did I go back to church twelve days after surgery and enjoy two hours there but a couple of days later walk away from less than an hour back in my work environment with less physical activity completely exhausted?

There's a lot more than physical stuff going on here. Fortunately, the words in my title are only echoes in my mind. Less than three weeks after surgery, people aren't applying pressure for me to make their priorities mine. It's just interesting to notice how much the "want to" affects the "able to."

Listening to my body

2011-03-02T15:08:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was two weeks after surgery to remove my kidney. I have been wearing a pedometer constantly other than the two days in the hospital when I didn't have a waistband on which to mount it. And I've been doing a lot of walking. Walking is refreshing, particularly when soft spring breezes start to blow.

Monday I walked 5,800 steps, some inside the house while doing very light housecleaning, others outside, strolling along at my slow post-operative shuffle. It was a good day.

Yesterday, I also walked 5,800 steps. But it was a very different day. I made an outing in a vehicle. It was a short outing. I was never more than two miles from home and wasn't gone much over an hour. The two stops along my route mainly involved pick up and delivery. I declined to be involved in a third stop which was a social gathering. Too much, too soon. I could see that. What I didn't anticipate is that when I said no to the social gathering and mentioned my plans for the day, it would prompt a couple of people from the social gathering to meet me at one of my destinations. Oops. Now I was dealing with well-wishers while upright rather than while sacked out on the couch at home. And for some reason, that didn't work out well. It wasn't according to my plan. I hadn't signed up for that level of interaction in that setting. Plus, the pick up and delivery involved more load than I anticipated. I had to deal with two eccentric door locks I didn't expect to find locked. And, okay, I drove two miles to my destination and the two miles back home. Which wasn't bad in and of itself, but was definitely an extra challenge. Together, those things added up to more energy expended than I expected. Then I took a walk with a companion and ended up walking faster than I would have on my own.

Now it's Wednesday afternoon. I have logged 350 steps today. I'll likely do more before the day is over, but, obviously, I have barely moved for the past eight hours (actually the last 18 hours). And I'm just now to the point where moving seems like a reasonable thing to consider.

Such small things. Locked doors. A pile of mail. A slightly faster pace while walking than the day before. Social interaction that tapped my energy while away from home in an unanticipated manner. A heavy car door to open and shut multiple times. I don't think it's so much that I overestimated my energy level as having so little reserve for unexpected drains. Thankfully, all activity is optional for today so I don't have to push.

Incentives to take a walk

2011-02-27T19:59:00.002-05:00

Before my surgery I had this wild idea that if I couldn't drive to work afterward, maybe I could work up to walking the two miles to get there. The idea made me laugh. Then I had the surgery and discovered that walking really is an option. Both my body and my doctor agree that there's no harm in it as long as I exercise some moderation.

Still, exercise for the sake of exercise is always less than compelling to me. I came home from the hospital to a promise of spring and was taking a couple of walks a day. When the weather went back to February dreary and cold and my temporary walking companions weren't exactly signing up for the long haul, it became more difficult to get myself out the door.

Tonight I walked a little less than two miles.

What drove me to it:

1. Someone said, "It is warm out there! You should open a window!" (Warm? That sounds good for a walk.)

2. A good nap that made me feel properly recovered from a couple of strenuous car outings in the past few days and ready to add an activity to my rest/move cycle.

3. Continued encouragement from my doctor for walking.

4. Seeing someone who consistently recovers from serious health issues more quickly and more fully than expected. He's an inspiration to me.

5. Telling someone I was walking less and hearing the "I knew it!" tone in her response as she noted that she had wondered about my initial burst of energy. Who wants to be identified as a "flash in the pan" with no ability to sustain what they start? I am NOT a "flash in the pan"! I'll prove it by grabbing my raincoat and walking stick and heading out the door into the warm misty weather.

6. My trusty ol' PDA and earbuds that make walking a musical encounter with some of my favorite music of all time. (Fortunately, traffic along my walking route is almost nonexistent and, even with the earbuds, cars have no excuse for running me down as long as I pay some modest level of attention to what's happening around me.)

Ah, a good combination. A medical professional giving me full permission to go walking, inviting temperatures outside, a good walking route, and a friend to tell me, "I knew you couldn't get back on your feet this quickly."

The Thrill of Accomplishment

2011-02-24T08:03:00.000-05:00

OK, I think I'm done with this sitting around stuff. There is huge satisfaction in accomplishment, and walking just a little further today than yesterday isn't quite doing it for me. Nor am I going to find any satisfaction in the "word search" puzzle book someone sent me. It's time to see what trouble I can get into around here.

I'm not even close to being a workaholic. Rather, I am fully capable of filling my hours with activity that looks like work but actually contributes almost nothing to the overall good of the world. Still, when I am able to accomplish worthwhile tasks, there is certainly great satisfaction in it. I'm thinking it's time to conjure up a "lite" to-do list and do it in the name of mental health.

Right after I take a nap.

The power of discontentment

2011-02-22T10:26:00.003-05:00

I had a cancerous kidney removed a week ago. When I posted to Facebook that I was taking a vacation, checking into a place with full service amenities -- breakfast in bed, uniformed staff available at the push of a button, etc. -- a friend said she was jealous. She was joking, of course. Still, it's amazing how discontentment with what we have can make another person's lot seem so very attractive. Even the idea of having major surgery can seem like a treat to someone who has to get up every morning and trudge off to another day of work.

I'm lounging at home right now, with a to-do list to die for. 1. Nap. 2. Heal. 3. Recover. That's it. Oh, I should probably take care of a few physical needs. Eat. Toddle off to the bathroom now and then. That sort of thing. But it's still a pretty short list. And I hear that people pay good money for the pills I have sitting beside me. Ah, mine is the life of luxury. And all it has cost me thus far is one kidney, some pain, and a pittance of copay for drugs and lab work. (I'm sure the bills will start showing up soon.)

There is huge power in both contentment and discontentment. I am truly blessed. I have no complaints with life. But I could if I chose discontentment. Contentment is definitely a choice. When I choose it, it's not difficult to count my blessings. When others choose discontentment, they discover they have drawn the short stick in terms of blessings. Then they see me and all my blessings and are truly envious, regardless of my actual lot in life. If I were homeless and living in rags but able to count enough blessings to be happy, there would be discontent people who would look at me with envy, wishing they could chuck all the burdens of responsible living and join me in my carefree lifestyle.

A number of years ago, I was serving time in my least favorite room in the house while others were lounging in the living room waiting for me to produce food for them. I was highly displeased with this arrangement and railing against it in my mind. After all, I was as tired as those people. I deserved to relax as much as they did.

The question that came to me was: Are you really so overworked?

Overworked? Well, compared to everyone else around here ...

NO! Not compared to everyone else. Compared to an absolute scale of exhausting physical demands.

Uhm... well, no, not really. Not when you include the physical demands that come with slavery or other types of servanthood on the scale. It has actually been a pretty easy day. And life. I could expend much, much more energy in a day if I worked up to it and kept myself at full physical capacity. And if the people in the other room were swinging pick-axes and carrying rocks, I would feel quite blessed here in the kitchen.

So why are you complaining?

Hmm... it's amazing how things look different when those lucky others are taken out of the picture. I am blessed to have discovered the secret to being content with the lot I am handed. I wish I could pass that secret on to others who are sure they could also be content with my lot but are not nearly to blessed by their own.

Agh! When was my last back-up?

2011-02-21T21:39:00.004-05:00

So I'm convalescing on the couch, laptop on lap. Life is good. But one can only spend so much time staring at a computer screen. I close the laptop. It heads into suspend mode as I lower it to the floor beside the couch. My arm doesn't quite extend far enough. One end of the computer is on the floor, but the other end drops a couple of inches. The hard drive heads are still engaged. End of hard drive. Gone. Dead. All my lovely files. I notice the drop and wince, but don't realize the significance until next time I open the computer, at which time it starts making little whimpering sounds.

I wait for the panic. This is far from my first hard drive crash. I have been through this before with all the classic steps of grief.

1. Denial -- it can't be. Maybe it's not really dead. Surely someone can bring it back for me.

2. Anger -- in this case, at myself. Why did I drop a valuable piece of electronic equipment on the floor? Why didn't I have a decent backup?

3. Bargaining -- HOW much does it cost for data retrieval on dead hard drives? Can I pay someone to bring back my lost files?

4. Depression -- The pictures I will never see again. The data lost. So devastating. So hopeless. So valuable and yet not worth the money to bring them back, even if it were possible.

5. Acceptance -- yes, my data is gone, but life will go on. I won't pay for resurrection. I will accept the loss and start a new collection of data on a new hard drive. I will survive.

So I wait for the panic. Arghh! My hard drive is dead. My data is lost. Let's see. What did I lose?

Uhm... well, I did a new blog post earlier today. Yes, and it's safely stored at blogspot.

Uhm ... mail files. I have lots of AOL mail files and this computer is the official storage spot for them. Yes, and the most recent ones are still on the AOL mail server. Is there really that much value in the old ones?

Data, surely I had valuable data on here. On a laptop? Why would you store your valuable data on a piece of equipment that can walk away in a moment? All the most essential files are stored other places, remember? Haven't you started storing most stuff in dropbox?

Pictures. I have pictures on here that may not exist anywhere else. Maybe, but aren't most of them pictures someone sent you via email? It's not as though you have the only copy in existence.

But always before I've missed most the little things, the files not worth backing up. The applications with no supporting media. What about those? Name one.

Hmm... so, still, I'm convalescing. I can't be expected to sit at a desktop during my time of need. So bring your work laptop home and use it.

That's it? No grief other than the value of the hard drive and the Windows license? This is certainly a change since the last hard drive tragedy.

(Placeholder for summary last line -- I'm still on my mental break.)

Taking a mental break

2011-02-18T20:09:00.001-05:00

My surgery is over. The growth on the kidney was a non-typical cancer. It's now gone -- the cancer (hopefully), the growth (for sure), and the kidney that was hosting it. I'm recovering quite nicely. The blessings are many. Despite my last post, I'm not listing them. That would require organizing my thoughts, lining things up, managing my thought processes, prioritizing my goals for the day. I'm taking a break from all that. This is a stand-alone post, not one of a series, not part of a plan.

I'm surprised. I arranged to take some time off from life while recovering from surgery. I have 22 staples holding things together northwest of my navel (if north is up and west is to the left). That's the part I can see. I have no clue what lies beneath the surface. There's some pain involved in all that. No surprise there. What surprises me is the message I'm getting from within and without that it's fine to stretch the limits on my physical activities. The only restrictions I have involve driving and lifting over ten pounds. Walking is fine. Climbing steps is fine. The way to return to full health is to be as active as possible physically while getting plenty of rest and not ignoring the messages my body is giving me.

It's the mental process that is surprising me. It was around 18 hours after I arrived home from the hospital and was settled comfortably on the couch with my laptop when someone suggested a little project I could take on while convalescing. It was a project that wouldn't require a lot of mental energy. Gather some information, make a phone call, or maybe just send an email. Nothing much. And it could result in a $50 refund for an event my husband and I will miss this next week. Little effort; tangible reward. What's not to like?

Except my brain declined the assignment. No, I'm taking some time off. I'm not doing research and gathering information. I'm not focusing on completing a task. Not this task. Not the thousand other tasks that would fit this same model.

Here's a short list of things I could do while convalescing:

1. Catch up on email for home and work. Read the new stuff, sort through and delete the old stuff. All from the comfort of my couch.

2. Organize files. Grab a couple of folders out of a drawer and take as long as I want to sort through them.

3. Make a list of topics to research in Google. Spend just one hour a day doing that research.

4. Make some progress on the pile of books and magazines waiting my attention.

5. Learn something new.

6. Write thank you notes for all the many kindnesses coming my way.

The pattern here is tasks that require almost no physical exertion, just mental exertion. After all, it's my body that has had surgery. Why would my mind need time off? It should probably be kept active so I stay sharp.

But no. I don't think so. Life is far from stress-free for me. My various to-do lists for work and home and outside activities regularly threaten to overwhelm the time available for doing them. I think I need a mental break. I can't afford to take a lot of time off, but I think I can afford another week of letting go of my mental focus and giving my mind a vacation. Then perhaps I can ease my way back into regular life while considering ways to perhaps settle at a slightly lower level of stress.

People hear about my surgery and encourage me to lie on the couch for as long as needed for recovery. Taking a mental break while recovering physically is a little more of a challenge, but I think it will be worth the effort.

I would wrap this post up with some summary thought, but that always requires significant mental energy. So I'll just quit.

Blessing in the Thorn

2011-02-13T15:40:00.002-05:00

Phillips, Craig, and Dean sing a song called "Blessing in the Thorn" that has been a blessing to me. (See title link.)

Having encountered a thorn in my life, I am once again seeing the beauty of the blessings in the thorn. To briefly state the "thorn" (so scholars won't have to spend centuries trying to figure it out), my left kidney has a lesion on it and is scheduled to be surgically removed the day after tomorrow.

I'm not sure I can even begin to catalog all the blessings I am encountering in this thorn, but thought I would record at least a few of them.

1. Symptoms. Thinking back, I wonder how many I ignored before some showed up that drove me to my doctor. What a blessing that they escalated to where I couldn't ignore them any longer. Yet, once I had appointments made and was committed to getting to the bottom of them, they subsided almost completely, allowing me to resume my normal schedule between doctor visits.

2. Modern medicine. I won't even try to be more specific than that. What amazing miracles of healing happen every day in medical facilities around the world.

3. Timing, both the big picture the small. On the big side, it looks like I'll be able to make it to my daughter's wedding in five weeks. It wouldn't have had to work out like that. On the small side, I do bookkeeping for two organizations. My surgery is on the 15th of the month at the start of the least intensive time for bills. In between there are multiple blessings in both the timing of the surgery and how that timing all came together.

4. Friends. It's great to know people care.

5. Prayer. What a gift it is to have people remember me in their prayers.

That's just a start. Maybe I'll find time to add more in the next days and weeks.

Missed Moments in Time

2010-12-03T12:35:00.002-05:00

Tuesday I joined the church ladies group at the local restaurant for lunch. I arrived a little early and stopped to chat with a man sitting by himself at a table that could have accommodated the entire ladies group. It was the first time I had seen him since he had taken a public tumble and become a topic of our small town news. His arm was in a sling. I stopped briefly to chat. He has medical tests scheduled for next week. I would have enjoyed learning more and catching up in general but wasn't sure he would appreciate being joined by a bunch of women so I moved on to claim an empty table. I was then sitting by myself for several minutes and he was still sitting by himself. As I gazed across the room, I pondered the options that would have allowed me to chat with him a little longer. He was a member of my church years ago before moving out of the area and then to a nearby town. It's always nice to catch up with him.

That was Tuesday. His 38-year-old daughter was pronounced dead of a heart attack on Wednesday morning. My husband and I are going to the funeral home for visitation tonight. It will be a tragic scene. No parent should ever have to bury their child. And for reasons I won't go into, this is, if possible, even worse than most cases of daughters dying too early. (Perhaps all cases are worse than most cases in one way or another.)

Ever since I heard, I have gone back over that scene from Tuesday. There he was, sitting alone, dealing with his own health issues, unaware of what lay in his immediate future. There I was in the same room, sitting alone, waiting for other companions. It could have been one of them who met with tragedy in the hours to follow. It's not that I made the wrong choice, the curtain was simply drawn on the future and I didn't know it was the last chat I would have with him before unfathomable grief moved in to become a permanent fixture in his life.

Still, it's a terrible reminder of how precious our moments with people are.

Life -- The Database

2010-09-30T21:02:00.002-04:00

I like databases. They're wonderful ways to organize things. My favorite example of something begging for a database is a baseball card collection. You can organize your actual cards by only one method. You might sort them by team, by date of acquisition, by value, by field position, or any number of ways, but they can have only one order. If you choose a different criteria for sorting them, you lose the order you already had.

A database, on the other hand, allows unlimited sorting options. And filtering options! You can make a list that includes only pitchers and sort them by their statistics. Or you can list only the cards above a certain value. Or only the rookie cards sorted by year. Oh, the fun you can have organizing your baseball cards once you have entered them into a database!

What I want is a database for life. I just got back from a library conference and am pumped up with new ideas for things to do in the library. Right now they're banging around in my head or on a couple of pages of notes and some handouts. I added a few of them to my standing to-do list for the library -- at the end.

What if a had a database for all these ideas? I could assign each task a value, estimate the time investment needed, put them in categories, give them a start and finish time. I could do the same for my home to-do list. When I got up in the morning, I could run a report ranking my priorities for the day. I would have a field for date of completion and run a report of completed tasks at the end of the week. New ideas would be entered in and given a place among existing obligations. Tasks that went beyond the time available could be reviewed to see if they could wait or needed to bump another task off the list. I could customize each day's list to reflect my schedule for the day -- work tasks for work hours, home tasks for evenings and weekends.

I could also use my database for memory assistance. I could record the news from someone today that he just had cataract surgery. Next time I see him, I could pull up the record of the surgery and ask if the operation on the second eye went well.

I could use my database for a diary and calendar, recording tidbits from all aspects of my life -- diet, exercise, menus, recipes to try, service contracts purchased, schedule for auto service, for health check-ups. Sure, I have ways to do these things now -- calendars, journals, reminders here and there -- but wouldn't it be wonderful to have them all in one place?

Of course, if I'm going to use my database for memories, I would need to add a "fade" factor similar to the one my brain uses. After all, I don't want the memory of the stupid thing I did today to be just as sharp and painful two years from now. It needs to be softened around the edges. Good memories need to sweeten with time. Bad memories need to blur. I would simply build this into the database.

Ah for such a database. How long would it take to develop it? How much maintenance time would it require? Would I have time for living with all the time investment needed for data entry and manipulation? Let's see -- get up (record rising time); check breakfast menu; eat breakfast (record food consumed, update household food inventory and shopping list to reflect food used); watch the news (record the days' news items and my reaction); etc., etc. Something tells me this isn't really going to work out too well. I need some sort of automatic data entry system.

I guess this is what my brain is for. If only it were better organized and let fewer things slip through the cracks.

Oh well, one can always dream.

Gratitude

2010-09-23T13:44:00.004-04:00

So ... a friend has a laptop that had slowed down to a crawl, to the point of being almost worthless, particularly if the wireless card were turned on. My husband had looked briefly at it and didn't want to mess with it any more. He figured it was a virus and recommended finding a good computer repair shop.

I was only vaguely aware of the problem until the discussion of repair shops came up. I volunteered that if our friend couldn't find anywhere to take it, I could take a look at it. He was leaving town without the laptop for a couple of days and took me up on the offer.

Several hours later, I had eliminated a bunch of background processes, cleaned up the registry, uninstalled some extraneous programs and had it running like a top. (No sign of a virus, just junk processes eating up the CPU resources.) Although it required a significant time investment and I had to reinstall the printer with driver software that wasn't quite a match for his printer, I was generally pleased with the outcome and returned it with the satisfaction of having done better than I expected with it. I figured I could tweak the printer driver later if he came up with software for it.

Next time I saw the laptop owner, I asked him if it was running all right. He didn't know yet, having not returned to it, but made a comment about me knowing all his secrets. Huh? I told him I knew he used to have a weather desktop utility, that I had simply been interested in the running processes on his computer, not his files.

A few days later, I happened to see him with the laptop and asked how it was doing.

Fine.

Just fine?

Yeah, it's doing all right, even starts up quickly.

Fine? That's it? If his car had been coughing and sputtering and would barely start and someone took it and tuned it up and returned it starting and running flawlessly would he say in an offhand tone it was running fine? Would he ask if the generous mechanic had rummaged through all the stuff he kept in his trunk?

I think I'm going to add up my time and send him a bill.

Nah, not really. I'll just make a note that the gratitude one receives for a gift is not necessarily going to reflect its worth in the general marketplace. And continue to give gifts as I am able.

Sometimes it goes the other way. A simple act of service requiring little time or effort will be received as a precious jewel. This wasn't one of those times.

Lessons from the garden

2010-08-09T09:41:00.003-04:00

Saturday evening I was out in my garden. As often happens, Charlie the cat inserted himself between me and my plants with a need for attention. I gave in to his demands for petting and ran my hand down his left side. With a snarl, he turned and bit me, just barely breaking the skin. He bit me! It was totally unexpected. Charlie is an old cat and not given to playful wrestling. Something was seriously up. After attacking me, he lay where he had fallen in my garden bed, claws extended, mouth open in a snarl. I walked away to bind up my wounds.

Sunday evening, I ran across someone at church wearing full body armor. I could find no cracks. When I tried to discuss some scheduling she informed me that anyone could work with the current calendar if they had sufficient desire, that participating was a choice that might take some sacrifice but could be done. No surrender, no quarter. Take it or leave it. Leaving it seemed like a pretty good choice in light of the hostility being displayed, but I saw no need to stir up any more defensiveness by saying so. I let it go, thinking it would be easier to work with the other parties involved.

Monday morning, back in the garden, along came Charlie the cat. I said, "I'm not petting you. You bite!" and continued with what I was doing. Not offended at all, Charlie rubbed his head against my elbow. When I ignored him, he moved a little closer and kept rubbing against me. I put my hand toward him and he rubbed against my fingers. I went ahead and petted the part of him that he offered to me. Rather than biting, he purred.

I think there's a lesson here. Apparently, Charlie has a sore spot on his side. If I touch it, he communicates his pain to me by causing me pain. If I play a more passive role, he will let me know what parts are all right to touch. I wonder . . . how can I apply that lesson as I interact with the wounded people around me?

Under lock and key

2010-02-25T10:19:00.011-05:00

I have been locked out. Somebody messed with the settings on the church sound board. Maybe it was children. Or maybe it was the musicians.

I am a musician.

The musicians come and practice during the week and insist on using the sound system during practice. Come Sunday the sound board is messed up. Knobs have been turned that should not be turned. Or maybe sliders have been slid. I'm not sure. No one has ever clearly pointed out to me which parts of the sound system are off limits.

In frustration, the sound man built a wood box, installed a lock, took one key for himself, and entrusted another to the pastor in case of emergency. Everything is set. All the musicians need to do is flip the switch on the outlet strip. No adjustments are needed. Thus, there is no need for the musicians to have access to a key. Problem solved.

Enter an additional musician needing an additional microphone. The sound system is locked. One microphone is available for one singer. If another singer is needed, the musicians are welcome to contact the sound man and he will come and turn on an additional microphone. After all, the musicians are prime suspects as the ones twisting the forbidden knobs. They are not to have access to a key.

Oh, brother.

With great effort against strong resistance, the musicians now know where one of the keys is stored. With greater knowledge comes greater responsibility. They will be held directly accountable for any knob-twisting that happens. The very fact that they insist on knowing where to find a key to the sound system implicates them as knob-twisters. People with respect for knobs that should not be twisted would not insist on having access to those knobs.

There are two people behind the lock-and-key decision. There are no more than a dozen people ever involved in music or sound for the services. Did the two people ever consider gathering together everyone who is ever in a position to need to adjust the sound and sharing the secrets of the sound board? How weak does a person have to be to deny access to responsible adults rather than communicate important issues to them? Are the musicians incapable of understanding even the most basic elements of the sound equipment?

I have a secret. The musicians also adjust the thermostat during their practice sessions. Sometimes the church is too cold for the musicians' delicate fingers. Sometimes it is too hot for their frenzied preparatory musical celebrations. The musicians have been known once or twice to forget to return the thermostat to the "unoccupied" setting. Thus far, these occasional lapses have been tolerated with a simple reminder that we need to be more responsible. But now that it has come out that the musicians are compulsive knob-twisters controllable only by blocking access to the knobs, I suspect the thermostat is in line for locking. A programmable thermostat can be installed and programmed to temporarily adjust the temperature for the regular practice schedule. Rescheduled or extra practices will need to be cleared with those holding the keys.

Long ago I figured out there are two rich sources for learning that can never be fully tapped. One source is those who provide positive examples to be incorporated into one's life. The even more prolific source is those who provide negative examples to be avoided. As I have been locked out of a system for which I have had almost no training and which I seldom touch, I am struck by the message behind the lock. It says I am a person who is unteachable and untrustworthy. Rather than insisting that I (and the other musicians) either learn to use the sound system properly or quit messing with it, those making the decision to lock us out swept us aside as hopeless knob-twisters. Not exactly the most edifying message I have ever encountered.

I wonder ... how many responsible adults (or children) am I locking out in mistrust rather than giving them the tools and opportunity to act in a trustworthy manner?

Thought to remember #7: "Life is reflective ... choose your source."

Only my commitment to Christian living prevents me from making a strong negative response to this message of mistrust. My baser self makes such helpful suggestions as locking up the musical instruments and walking away with the keys. Or maybe locking the door to the room where the music is stored so that only the "official" musicians have access to it. Or bringing in our own amps and bypassing the locked sound system.

In my experience, the pull to treat others the way they treat you never quite fades away. The thing to remember is how much better it is to treat others as you are treated by the most loving people in your life (and by a loving God) rather than as you are treated by those who are weak and have few resources for communicating and building relationships.

It's worth repeating and remembering. "Life is reflective ... choose your source." I refuse to reflect this attitude of mistrust and disrespect for the learning ability of others which could so easily spread through the entire church. I will acknowledge the weakness which the lock and key demonstrates and respond with compassion and grace.

How fortunate I am to have encountered grace in my life that operates at a level worth reflecting. O to be able to consistently reflect that grace to those who lock me out.

Competence Is a Heady Thing

2009-11-15T21:52:00.002-05:00

This week I fixed the laser printer at the library. I had googled for hints on fixing it and found a place that described the exact problems we were having and offered to sell me replacement parts that would cure those problems. Two problems, two parts, $50.

The first part came with written instructions. It was a quick and easy repair. I tackled it soon after the order arrived and the printer was then functional. The second part came with an instructional dvd. It was to fix a less essential function -- the bypass tray. I procrastinated on that one until Wednesday afternoon when I needed to print material for a workshop the next day and wanted to use both sides of the paper, something most easily done using the bypass tray. I decided the time had come and stuck the dvd in my laptop next to the printer.

An hour later, after removing and replacing five parts and two springs to get to the problem piece, the printer was working but I had one part left over -- a paper-clip type wire spiraled into a spring. I knew I was in trouble when it went boing as I removed the bypass tray. I didn't see where it came from and couldn't figure out how it was supposed to work. The video didn't show that spring at all and the tray worked fine without it. But it bothered me to have a part left over.

Mechanical devices are not my specialty. I have a terrible time remembering how things came apart so I can put them back together. I generally try to avoid taking them apart, particularly things that suddenly fall apart without warning, such as spring-loaded devices. I had spent significant time on that spring without success and everything else about the printer was working. Should I throw it away? Store it someplace until I received sudden inspiration to replace it? I sat and studied it a little longer. It needed to be happy when the tray was in an upright position and experience mild stress when the tray was open. Study, study, back to the printer to look for possibilities. Then - voila! -- I saw how it went. Success! The printer is now fully repaired and all of its parts back in their proper place.

Fixing the printer made me quite pleased with myself. It was a significant accomplishment.

Meanwhile, a coworker made a call to take care of a matter for her adult son. She said, "Someday he's going to have to stand on his own two feet." Obviously, that wasn't the day. I remembered that he was in the library recently and wanted me to figure out a website for him. I had no familiarity with the site and he was the one who needed to learn how to use it. I told him I would simply be poking around the same as he could do himself and walked away. Eventually, he figured it out. Did he have that same sense of accomplishment in handling something himself? He tends to ask me for help every time. Does "standing on his own two feet" have no appeal to him?

Later, that same coworker told me about a call she got from an inmate at the county jail wanting her to assist him in gaining release -- attend his bail-reduction hearing, maybe contribute something toward his bail. The man is 50 years old. What's he doing in jail in the first place? How many years does it take a person to assume responsibility for staying on the right side of the law or for dealing with the consequences of failing in that endeavor?

It made me feel good to fix the printer. Capable. Competent. I can get around most internet sites without assistance. I can live well enough within the law to avoid getting stuck in jail hoping for a bond reduction or someone who cares enough to bail me out. (I've at least managed to escape that fate for over 50 years.)

What is it like to depend on others to bail you out of the tight spots you stumble into? Does such a lifestyle feel right to people with a particular personality and history? Would the thrill of competent living leave them hooked on accomplishment if they could manage to live competently?

I wonder.

Adventures of a Domestic Rabbit

2009-10-23T08:11:00.002-04:00

This is a story with a happy ending. The rabbit is back. It's not the end I expected.

On the evening of October 8, I heard a squeal in the woods outside my bedroom window. It was the panic scream of a rodent. My first thought was that it sounded like a rabbit. I thought of the wire cage housing my "Easter bunny" and was comforted by the confidence that no predator could get to her. I decided it must have been a hapless chipmunk.

The next day, my daughter discovered the empty rabbit cage. The door was propped open. The rabbit was gone. I was somehow distracted the previous day and left the door open and the rabbit, naturally, went exploring.

As I remembered the previous night's squeal, my heart sank. What had discovered and attacked our domestic rabbit, so ill-trained for wilderness survival? I had intentionally fostered goodwill between the rabbit and the dogs and cat, trying to persuade our household predators that the rabbit was "family" rather than prey. Had those attempts resulted in disaster in the absence of healthy fear on the rabbit's part and my restraining hand on the dog?

The rabbit was a gift, a pedigreed 4H show bunny. How could I admit to my generous friends that I lost it by leaving the cage door open? Even though the empty cage was discovered as I was rushing out the door for a meeting, I took time for a brief and futile search -- no rabbit, dead or alive. It was gone. The dogs took a "no comment" position. I wanted to cancel the meeting, but, really, it was only a missing rabbit. It's not like rabbits are hard to replace. Male rabbit plus female rabbit and you have a whole litter to choose from in thirty days. And it's not as though the lost rabbit was particularly affectionate. Any time we let her loose in the house, she would lead us on a merry chase as she evaded capture. Still, the panic scream echoed in my head and my gut ached as I visualized the fate of our pet due to my carelessness.

As I waited for time to ease the initial shock of what I had done, I wondered... How many parents are haunted by a child's scream -- a child hit by a vehicle, maybe theirs; a child losing his or her grip and falling or being swept away by current or wave. How can they endure the endless echoes of that final scream of pain and panic? How do they ever go on with life? What would it be like to multiply the grief I felt for the rabbit by the huge value factor involved with a child. I can't begin to imagine the pain and suffering.

A week after the rabbit escaped, my husband captured her in pixel form sitting not far from her cage by the kitchen door. As soon as he touched the doorknob, she was gone. I wouldn't have believed it but the rabbit in the photo he printed was definitely ours. A few days later he found her by the woodpile. Three of us closed in on her. She let us get close and then disappeared under the wood. A flashlight revealed her at the end of a long hollow run, far beyond reach. The day after that, she let Dave touch her nose when he was out feeding the wood furnace. And a few hours later she sat still by the entrance to her woodpile "burrow" and let me catch her.

Was twelve days enough for the rabbit get her fill of life in the wild and decide to resign herself to being caged in exchange for protection from the dangers of the world along with daily food and water? Did the change of diet from pellets to greens leave her without enough energy to run? Who knows what goes on in the mind of a domestic rabbit? She seems lighter and more appreciative of being a pet, easier to catch in the house, less determined to get away when carried, more inclined to come close to fingers reaching through the cage wire. The failure to fight capture could be simply a lack of energy, but it doesn't take much energy to avoid fingers coming through the cage wire.

I'm pretty sure the scream I heard that first night was the rabbit. It must have escaped from whatever was after it and found a hiding place. What blessing there is in happy endings. Oh that all the endings could be happy endings. My heart still aches when I think of all the many tragedies for which there is no happy ending.

One more blog post

2009-09-26T14:09:00.002-04:00

Five months. Almost. That's how long it has been since I have added anything here. As I have mentioned before, it turns out a blog can continue to exist and attract visitors based on existing material rather than requiring constant updates. Still, I fear that blogspot may someday notice that I'm not writing on a regular basis and "weed" me out just as I weed books from the library shelves.

There's hope for more. My garden is winding down. I'm gradually emerging from the crushing to-do list that ate up the summer. I even went to Google reader today to see who else continues to blog and who has fallen silent. It turns out not everyone has wandered off to twitter.

I wonder how substantial additions need to be to stave off the weeding fork. I think I'm past 140 characters now. Is it enough?

Now I just need to come up with some things to publicly ponder before the holidays move in like an elephant in a small room and leave me crushed against the wall.

Fighting heresy

2009-04-30T09:27:00.004-04:00

I was reminded again this week that fighting 'heresy' is a delicate operation.

A number of years ago, I left the library at about the same time two days in a row and caught a few seconds of a radio preacher. The first day, he was ranting about the false teachings of "Sanders and Boyd." I turned the radio off. The second day, he was still going on about how wrong "Sanders and Boyd" were. Apparently, these two people were making some pretty big waves. I listened a little longer and came easily to the conclusion that I would find more to like about "Sanders and Boyd" than the one trying so hard to refute their views. A little research led to a more complete identification of John Sanders and Gregory Boyd, proponents of open theism. I bought and read The God Who Risks: A Theology of Divine Providence by John Sanders. Sanders' views fit well with my beliefs and the book was profitable. I wondered if I should write a thank you note to the radio preacher who introduced me to him.

A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a link to a website exposing the 'heresies' of the emerging church in America. Her son had the dubious honor of being noted as a student leader on this road to heresy. As I looked around the site, I found some of my favorite Christian writers highlighted, along with other names I had not previously encountered. I have left the site open in a browser tab and revisit it now and then. There is useful information there -- links to sites connected with the emerging church, spiritual formation, and contemplative prayer. I don't know of another place on the internet that does so well in pulling together such an attractive set of resources. Being well-practiced at overlooking offensive tirades from the established church, I'm not overly bothered by the negative words that surround these resources.

What is/are the person(s) behind the site thinking in presenting all of these open windows into the ways God is working in the 21st-century Church? Am I supposed to look at them and immediately agree that they must be of the devil? Is that an obvious conclusion to the site manager(s)? Is there any fear at all that visitors such as me will follow the links and embrace what they find rather than joining the "ain't-it-awful" crowd in rejecting them?

The book of Acts in the Bible contains the account of a zealous young Pharisee named Saul who witnessed the execution of Stephen, the first Christian martyr, and then went on to persecute the early church. In chapter 9, Saul is off to Damascus to round up followers of Jesus Christ in that city when he encounters a blinding light and a voice that says, "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the pricks." (KJV memory version) There's a short conversation and then Saul gets up and becomes just as zealous for Christianity as he has been in opposing it. It strikes me that such a complete turn-around didn't start when that light flashed, that at some level Saul (later to become the apostle Paul) was already beginning to wonder if he might have it all wrong and be working against God rather than for Him. Perhaps part of his zeal was designed to squelch the doubts that had begun to nag at him.

I wonder about the person(s) behind the Lighthouse Trails Research blog. Are they so blind to the appeal of what they are presenting that they are confident that no readers will be drawn to it? Are they struggling to maintain their position of disdain while nagging doubts erode away their convictions? Alternatively, is the site maintained by someone only pretending to oppose this stuff and banking on the theory that there is no such thing as bad publicity? (I would seriously entertain this idea if honesty and transparency weren't a strong value among people embracing spiritual formation.)

Perhaps we should all stick to supporting the stuff we love rather than risk spreading the word about the stuff that strikes us as wrong-headed in our attempt to fight against it.

Let me tell you how it is.

2009-04-22T19:12:00.002-04:00

(How's that for a subject with no keywords?)

This morning I was sitting in a hotel lobby using my laptop. A businessman settled into a nearby chair with his laptop, and he and his companion discussed the availability of internet access. When they couldn't get an immediate connection, the companion decided to go get a jump drive rather than waste time trying to get connected. As I continued with what I was doing, I thought I saw the man left behind with his laptop glance my way a couple of times as though he were curious about my success in obtaining internet access. It occurred to me that maybe I could help him get connected but I pushed aside the suggestion. After all, what was I really going to do?

The day before, I stood in a Metro station in Washington, D.C. waiting for a train. A family disembarked from another line and came up to study the map beside me. The mother said they needed 7th & C and thought they would emerge at that intersection if they walked to their left. They discussed it a while and then started that direction. But the mother turned around to check the map one more time to make sure. At that point, I said, "I just came from 7th & C. You were headed the right direction."

I've been taking some training for library software. It's sort of a learning together process. Those doing the teaching are only a little ahead of the students. Questions are welcome. Sometimes I have questions. More often, it seems, I have observations, maybe a helpful tip to offer. In other situations where I'm supposed to be a learner, such as in Bible studies, I might put my observation in the form of a question, such as, "Where in the Bible does it say what you just told us?" Interpreted that sometimes means, "I don't agree with what you said and am quite certain that there is no biblical support for it. I'll let it stand rather than challenge your authority, but I'll at least cast a shadow of doubt over it." It's not really a question.

Ah, the attraction of being an authority. Let me tell you how to get connected, where to go. Here's a tip for doing this computer process. This is what I know about the Bible.

Sometimes I'm the one on the receiving end when other people are eager to share their expertise and help me out well before I've indicated any interest in being helped. Sometimes it truly is helpful and I welcome their input. Other times, it can be quite annoying. In those times, I tend to quit responding while I wait for them to run out of words and go find someone more appreciative of their help. I figure no response beats a negative response.

So when is the right time to offer help to a family trying to find themselves on a map and when is it better to wait for them to look around and ask? Are there times and places in this world for offering unsolicited help? Is this urge to help those around me a character flaw or a gift to be honed and used to bless others?

Just pondering.

Note to self

2009-03-22T14:17:00.001-04:00

It may not be a good idea to link from a post here to a blogger update. The link gets listed below the update and attracts far more strangers wandering through than usual. Site traffic is up. A bunch of people who don't know me and aren't interested in knowing me now know what I think about linking my blog to my Facebook account.

As iron sharpens iron ...

2009-03-18T19:18:00.001-04:00

Iron sharpens iron, and one person sharpens the wits of another - Proverbs 27:17 (NRSV)

I have mentioned in recent posts some troubling things said to me about myself by friends. It might occur to someone that it's time to find new friends. And the truth is that some of my friendships are more challenging than others.

Some people are easy to get along with. They don't question my motives. If they don't understand what I say, they ask for clarification. They give me the benefit of the doubt. There are virtually no harsh words between us.

With other people, even my closest friends, I have occasional clashes. Something is taken the wrong way and brings a defensive response. Or I am labeled as selfish or insensitive. Or my friend speaks frankly about an annoying trait.

So why hang out with people who don't even like me part of the time? The verse from the Book of Proverbs at the top of this post might shed some light on this. Sometimes it takes sparks to sharpen a metal tool, honing it to a sharp edge.

If the people around me spoke well of me all the time, how would I become aware of character flaws? How would I work on my ability to handle criticism without falling apart emotionally? Who would challenge my thinking?

I like the comfortable times with comfortable friends. I also value friendships that have seen hard times and survived. Our friendship has been tested by the winds of adversity and we have chosen to hold on to it because the value we find in it outweighs the pain of the occasional conflicts between us.

A few years ago, some people walked out of my life by walking away from the church that provides most of my social life. I did an inventory around that time and realized that, with their departure, I was down to five people with whom I had occasional conflict, that I was getting along quite well with everyone else in my life. (The fact that the conflict prompting the departure of those people had absolutely nothing to do with me was encouraging -- apparently, I wasn't the only one with whom they had conflict.) A couple of years later, two more of those people walked away leaving me with just three friends with whom sparks sometimes fly, three very good friends whom I love. They make my life richer and challenge me in ways that are good for me. I am blessed.

Wounds from a friend can be trusted ... -Proverbs 27:6a (NIV)

Invisible People

2009-03-03T21:27:00.003-05:00

Classic literature has given us two books entitled The Invisible Man. From the pen of H. G. Wells comes the story of a man who discovers the path to true invisibility. In contrast, the main character in Ralph Ellison's book is quite visible -- people just don't see him.

A more recent addition on the subject of invisibility is Neal Shusterman's book for young adults The Schwa was Here. It is a humorous-yet-sad story of an 8th-grade boy who blends in so completely with his surroundings that people don't see him. The narrator of the story befriends him and relates the challenges and opportunities this feature provides.

I have felt invisible many times in my life. I even experimented once in high school to see how invisible I truly was. On the evening of a "Youth for Christ" meeting/party, I determined to speak to no one unless that person either spoke to me first or looked directly at me in a way that invited me to say something. The only person who came close to providing that minimal level of invitation was the mother of the host student. She didn't know me, but greeted everyone at the door, including me. The only words I spoke all evening were a response to her greeting and a word of thanks as I exited. The rest of the evening, I sat quietly in the shadows, and not one person appeared to notice I was there.

My own experience with invisibility is partly what motivates me to be deliberate in my effort to see people. It can be hard work. People move in and out of my line of vision. Sometimes I notice them; sometimes I don't. There are various factors that contribute to a person's invisibility to me. Perhaps the hardest to see are quiet, ordinary children whom I don't know in a group that includes more flamboyant personalities. Or maybe it's the people who appear to be so far outside my usual social circle that interaction with them doesn't strike me as worth the effort.

What has me pondering the idea of invisibility, however, is not the invisible child or the invisible stranger on whom I slap a label, but invisible friends. There are people in my life, people whom I see frequently and know relatively well, whose presence somehow doesn't stir up enough brain cells for me to remember that I have crossed paths with them. I can seldom remember if they were in this place or that. Was he part of that group? Was she in her usual place at church this week? Did I see him at a store sometime? Have I seen her in the library lately?

Working at seeing people prompts me to sort out those quiet children and learn their names. It prompts me to treat people as potential friends, even if I detect nothing about them that makes me think we have enough in common to sustain even a casual friendship. I keep working at seeing the invisible people. And generally, once I get to know someone, they are no longer invisible to me. Except a few, who continue to blend into the woodwork no matter how much effort I make.

I wonder ... Does invisibility go with the person, as in the books I mentioned? Are my invisible friends surprised when someone sees them? Or is their invisibility to me a flaw in my own vision? Maybe it's a little of both.

Blogger and Facebook

2009-03-01T21:44:00.004-05:00

I see that I can have my blog automatically post as a note on Facebook. (Click here if you want to know how.) On the face of it, this seems like a nice feature. But it didn't take long to figure out that I'm not going to do it.

For more than a decade, I have moved between two different worlds. First, there is my "real life" world. The people who populate this world have faces and voices and talk not only to me but to each other when I'm not around. They know me by what I say, by my body language, by what I look like, by what others think about me. They hear my voice and enter my life with a physical presence. Few of them focus much attention on me specifically. Few of them care what I think about either Blogger or Facebook.

My other world is an online world. In this world, there are no voices, only typed words on a page. I type posts such as this and people show up to read them. Many are strangers coming in off the search engines. Others, I know only from the internet. Only a few are part of my "real life" world.

Facebook is a place where my two worlds intersect. It's actually a place where many worlds intersect for many people. It specializes in one-liners. "Marsha is typing a blog post." Does someone trying to keep up with 100 friends really want to know more than that? If they do, it's not hard to find this blog.

I have often told people that the key to survival in a small town is to be so boring that no one cares to talk about you. "Marsha who? Who's that and why would I care what she did? Don't you have anything better than that to tell me?" I find blogging to fit into that same pattern. Most people don't care to read my ponderings. Even though this blog is easily picked up by the search engines, I'm counting on the fact that only people who are truly interested in reading it because they have some level of appreciation for what I write will bother to come by more than once. Thus, I can share things here that I wouldn't necessarily share with everyone I know. Force-feeding these posts to my Facebook friends, whether from "real life" or from other internet settings, seems way too "in your face" for me. It's a neat concept that I can see would work for other people and I hope my mindset doesn't discourage you if you're interested in doing it, but I myself am not ready to invite that level of exposure.

So if you're here from a search engine, you're just getting in on some thoughts. If you're a regular visitor, thanks for coming by. I appreciate your interest.

Self-centeredness

2009-02-20T21:26:00.004-05:00

I've been pondering the idea of self-centeredness. Selfishness. Self-focus. Whatever you want to call it. Being concerned primarily with me and mine.

Not too long ago, I suggested changing the schedule for something. Someone to whom I made the suggestion asked for supporting reasons. As I listed the advantages, she countered each with an objection. I was torn between doing rebuttals and arguing for each point versus continuing my list. Did she want to hear a brief summary of my reasoning or not? I became agitated and confused as my points were torn one-by-one to shreds and scattered to the wind. Then my friend uttered words that ended the exchange totally. She said, "I can see how you think this would be good for your group, but there are other people to consider. You're not thinking about others."

Whoa! That's a serious accusation. It's not that I'm thinking only of myself but that I have identified with a group of people and don't care about anyone outside that group. Group selfishness. I'm willing for everyone outside the group to suffer in order to accommodate the needs and desires of me and mine.

The reality was, I wasn't particularly sold on the idea I was presenting. I had picked it up from someone else for whom a similar change had proven beneficial. I was simply sharing that information and asking about the possibility of trying it in our setting. If the cons outweighed the pros for everyone involved, I was perfectly willing to drop the matter. I'm not sure how including factors that would benefit "my" group in my list of advantages revealed the proposal to be basically self-focused. I think I caught my friend at a bad time and should probably let the comment go.

As the scene described has impacted my thinking on selfishness, however, I've been thinking about the spectrum from pure and complete selfishness to pure and complete altruism. I'm not sure either extreme can exist in pure form. At the conference I attended recently, I heard the results of scientific research that support Jesus' words that "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Those who give reap significant benefits in terms of health, happiness, and longevity. Thus, there is no giving that doesn't involve receiving of some kind. Once someone experiences the pleasure of giving, would they continue to give if all the pleasure were removed or does self-benefit become a motivation?

At the other end of the spectrum, one might expect to find some purely selfish people who care for no one outside themselves. Maybe such people exist, but they aren't obvious to me. It seems that everyone has at least a "mine" outside of their "me" for whom they care. At what point does "me and mine" become something other than pure selfishness? How large does the "mine" need to be to no longer qualify as selfishness? Is it me and my family? Me and those who suffer as I suffer or once suffered? Me and my social circle? Me and my community? Me and my nation? Me and my world? Me and my universe?

In between the two extremes of pure selfishness and pure altruism, there is a whole spectrum of mixed motivations for actions -- good for me, good for you but not me except when doing good for you makes me feel good, good for us but not them, good for them but not us except when doing what's good for them turns out to be good for us. When giving up my life turns out to be the way to gain it, is it truly unselfish to give it up?

Mostly, it all makes my head spin, but eliminating the end points of totally selfish and totally altruistic does put a different perspective on being labeled as selfish when a proposal that I'm tossing around might be of more benefit for "me and mine" than for some larger group.

Facelift

2009-02-20T21:24:00.004-05:00

OK, you may not notice, but I finally moved over to one of the new Blogspot templates with block editing. Maybe this will inspire me to keep the sidebar more up-to-date.

Interpersonal relationships - hearing what is being said

2009-02-16T21:31:00.003-05:00

Recently, I used a word incorrectly. The misplaced word turned a simple observation of current events into a rather arrogant assertion about the future. The friend to whom I made the statement took it at face value and informed me that I was wrong.

As I have considered my friend's response, it interests me that she heard the misspoken statement, compared it to the realm of possible statements I might make, and didn't question whether she had heard and understood me correctly. A statement with that much arrogance apparently is not inconsistent with her view of my character.

Another friend taught me the value of forming a good opinion of someone and seeing words and actions that don't mesh with that good opinion as out of character for them. He encouraged me to say words such as, "That's not like you. You're better than that."

Another friend demonstrates to me the value of active listening. I can't know for sure, but I don't think that friend would have responded to my "arrogance" without first verifying that my words conveyed what I was trying to say. He might have said, "Huh? Are you saying ...?" or "Do you really think so?" I could have then reviewed my words and detected the problem.

The "you're wrong" response not only revealed a negative assessment of my character but also devalued my opinion. My friend accepted the misspoken words as something I would conceivably say and then brushed the assertion aside as invalid. Which it was, in its misspoken form. But it was still a statement of opinion rather than fact and could have possibly contained something worth hearing if I had actually intended to say what I said.

I wonder if I can figure out a way to put a filter into my listening, to measure what I hear against the range of statements someone is likely to make at their best, and ask for verification when the words don't fit into that range.

I decided long ago that negative examples are as valuable as and sometimes more valuable than positive examples. This example of a friend who has apparently developed a rather negative view of my character, judging both by this most recent exchange and previous misunderstandings, seems to be a good source for learning about relationships.

Flying under the radar

2009-02-12T10:07:00.000-05:00

Last week I traveled almost 2,000 miles to attend a theology conference. I disappeared from my world for a week and traveled to a far-off, distant land called Idaho. People noticed I was gone. They want to know why, tell me they missed me, and ask about my trip. But they show no interest in the conference itself, just in my absence. If I tell them about visiting my daughter for a couple of days and traveling with her that satisfies both their curiosity and their duty to take an interest in my life as a friend.

The conference itself has left me more aware of the need to "see" people, i.e., to focus on them and love them. One thing that distracts me in that area is when they show enough interest in me to get me talking at length about myself. I become more interested in what I am saying than in my long-suffering friend who is stuck listening. It's obvious when that happens. My own sad self becomes the star of the show, which is not particularly edifying to anyone involved in the exchange.

Thus far, no one has been either interested enough or duty-bound enough to actually ask me about the conference, what I learned, who I saw, the nature of the sessions, etc. A few people have asked about the theme. When I tell them it was about love, they look a little puzzled, but don't pursue the topic. A theological conference about love? What do love and theology have to do with each other? Curiosity is there, but not on a level worth pursuing.

I've told a couple of people more than they wanted to know about the logistics of the trip -- those who are most duty-bound to listen to my experiences. Someone else told me she wants to hear all about the conference -- another time. With only one friend in my everyday world, have I shared anything that came out of the conference itself. That person didn't know I had been gone. Our paths don't intersect enough for her to notice. But they did at one time and she's a good friend. She came into my world this week and asked a generic "how have you been" question. I responded by prompting her with a smile to ask about my trip to Idaho. And she did. I gave her a brief report along the same lines I have given others. The difference is that I could tell she was interested and open to hearing more. When the conversation took a direction that reminded me of something I had learned at the conference, I inserted a brief comment about it into the conversation. She listened and responded with interest.

The "flying under the radar" title to this comes out of the realization that I could have been hunting polar bear in Alaska last week rather than actually attending the theology conference with no particular discomfort when someone turned their radar on me and demanded a trip report. All I needed was a couple of days with my daughter on the way to Alaska to put on my official report and everything else could slide by undetected.

This is not a bad thing. It's not like I'm going to start lying about my outings. My accountability for doing what I say I'm doing and living honorably doesn't depend on people grilling me for details. The reason it interests me has more to do with the give-and-take nature of relationships. Friendships involve two-way communication. I talk to you. You talk to me. In some friendships, I spend more time on the receiving end; in others (or in the same friendships at other times), I do more talking than listening. It seems that people would be hesitant to share deeply with me if I don't respond with some type of vulnerability on my own part. However, I'm noticing that listening to other people often forms a bond that doesn't require more than surface information on my side. Many people never notice that they are sharing more of themselves and their thoughts with me than I am sharing in return. In fact, they seem quite satisfied with that arrangement.

Sometimes I have a need to talk about things as an aid in processing various happenings, but I don't often have a desire to tell everyone I know about it. I'm pleased to realize that there's no need to share more than surface details even when I disappear from my world for a week. People are easily satisfied by simplified, incomplete explanations for such absences. It doesn't take much to satisfy them that whatever happened isn't worth their effort to probe into it.

The nature of relationships is a subject with limitless fascination to me.

I'm back! (Well, at least in this moment)

2008-12-13T09:24:00.002-05:00

As of this week, some of the craziness is gone from my life. I successfully completed a library science class and embraced a new "integrated library system." Finishing the class puts at least five hours a week back into my available hours, not counting the hours the homework required. Completing the migration to the new library system moves me from prep work for that transition to exploring the possibilities in the new system. I am reminded once again of my personal geekiness as learning the system becomes my new candy.

Ah... the horizon broadens. So many opportunities, so many choices.

And then I realize that Christmas is looming on that horizon. Not even on the horizon, actually. It is bearing down on me with alarming speed. Last time I counted, the town Christmas tree lot had nine trees left. That was a few days ago. How far will I have to go to get a live tree for my children to enjoy when they come home?

Have I mentioned that Christmas is not "the most wonderful time of the year" for me? Maybe someday I'll figure out how to enjoy it instead of being ambushed by it. I wonder if thirteen days is enough time to learn that skill.

So maybe I'll be back soon or maybe it will be later. Maybe I'm just out of topics for public ponderings.

To anyone who happens across this post in a timely fashion: "Have yourself a merry little Christmas!"

Day 3

2008-08-22T08:49:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was my third day of meetings this week. It was a different venue with different motivation for gathering, but there was overlap among the participants from earlier in the week. I waited to see if one person on whom I had inflicted my company in those earlier meetings would acknowledge our acquaintance. He did not. Sigh.

Lost in the crowd again. It was another "Day 1." Only this time, there was no "Day 2." Once again, I inflicted too many words on people who don't know me and don't care to know me or be known by me. Why can't I be content to shut my mouth and go into an observation mode, slipping in and out as someone unknown in such settings? What prompts me to talk at length to people who have no interest in hearing my words? Why can't I bottle those words up and pour them out later on my long-suffering blog readers? Oh, wait, maybe that's what this is. Maybe I didn't use up as many words as it seemed. The quantity may have been magnified by their failure to find receptive places to land.

I decided I didn't like the look of my chosen accommodations for the night and realized that I was more awake at the end of the day than the beginning and might be able to drive the three hours it would take to get home if I skipped out just a little early. So I cancelled my reservation, relieved to not have to spend another night on the road.

With an hour before I planned to leave, someone suddenly appeared at my side and announced that she was sharing my table at dinner because we needed to talk about a project of which we are both a part. What a pleasant surprise! We did eat together and had a very profitable exchange. Then I left. I hadn't registered for the optional second day of this event because the topics being discussed weren't pertinent to my situation. So I left my new-found friend behind until our paths cross again another day in another place.

I'm ready to stay home in my small town for a while before heading back out for further days of obscurity.

Day 2

2008-08-19T22:33:00.002-04:00

OK, so I headed out this morning prepared to resist the urge to inflict myself on my companions in training. But as I walked into the building, I received a friendly greeting from one of the hosts for the event. I returned her greeting and headed to the training room. I chose a seat in the back corner and pulled out some documentation to read. A couple of people filled in the seats next to me. One of them greeted me and introduced herself -- also from the host location. A couple of other people I remembered from a previous meeting but hadn't seen yesterday also acknowledged our previous encounter with a friendly greeting.

All this friendliness messed up my resolve to sit in my little corner with my mouth shut. After all, I hadn't resolved to be standoffish, only to avoid annoying people who were otherwise occupied.

I have been here before. Two days of meetings. The first day I sink further and further into loneliness as I fail to find companionship among the crowd. The second day, the sea of faces resolves into individuals, some of whom are actually quite friendly.

I wonder if there's a way to go only for the second day of these type of sessions.

Obscurity

2008-08-19T07:24:00.003-04:00

In a few moments I will head out for a day of anonymity. I'm taking some training on new software with my library peers. Only 17 libraries are represented but mine must be unique in having only one representative. The rest of the group seems to have arrived in clusters.

It's odd to me to spend hour after hour in a group where no one knows me or cares to know me, where speaking serves only to annoy people by detracting from the business at hand and interfering with the dynamics of their group.

This is an interesting contrast to my regular life. Last Friday I walked into a local business. I'm in there several times a year to pick up hardware items but not enough to know the younger employees who cycle through the clerking positions of this large family-owned business. For this visit, I needed a billing statement to replace one that somehow disappeared into the clutter at home. When I stated my business, the young man behind the counter verified my husband's name. I was thoroughly impressed. It has been years since I have bought anything there on credit. (I was actually seeking the balance on the church account.) My infrequent visits generally involve anonymous cash transactions. I can't imagine how he put me together with my husband's name. As someone who has to come up with names to match faces at the library in the absence of library cards, I know how difficult that is. I'm curious as to what past encounter fixed my identity in the mind of this young man. Should I know him? How is he related to the patriarch of the business who wandered out a few minutes later and chatted with me.

To know and be known. That is inherent to small town living. But today I will be unknown and uninteresting to a group of 60 people. It messes with my self-esteem to be so easily dismissed as not worth knowing. And not simply not worth knowing, but also not worth being known by. Any interest I show in my peers today is unlikely to generate their favor. I spent the entire day with them yesterday and never moved beyond polite responses.

I often pray that I may be a blessing to those around me. It's a little disturbing to think that the best way to accomplish that today may be to stay out of the way and keep my mouth shut.

Oh well, I'll be back in my small town tomorrow where there is no lack of opportunity to be a blessing by actually getting involved in people's lives rather than simply by staying out of their way. Life is good on Main Street, USA.

Response to a book challenge

2008-08-12T09:15:00.003-04:00

By day, I am a librarian. I don't get into that too much here. However, I read a letter this morning and want to be able to find it again. This is basically a way of bookmarking it. It is a rather lengthy response to someone who protested the presence in the library of a picture book involving gay marriage.

It's interesting to me that the social grouping with which I most identify myself - the church - would tend to be on the side of the protest in this case rather than the measured response. Sometimes I wonder why I associate myself with organized religion. (For some ideas in that area, you can look here.) But I also wonder what percentage of people who radically follow the teachings of Jesus Christ are truly committed to the position of homophobia so often encountered in the church and "Christian" media. Some of the "ain't it awful" statistics such people share with us about the decay of moral absolutes in the church seem to indicate that it might not be so ubiquitous as it may sometimes appear.

Don't get me wrong here. I'm not an activist in favor of gay rights. I'm more in favor of people, of dealing with people as wondrous creations rather than putting labels on them and discarding them as not fit for society because they don't fit the standard definition of "normal." I ache for those who have been told through various means that God hates something so integral to who and what they are as their sexuality. And, having substantial exposure to the Bible itself rather than simply those who would tell me what it says, I suspect that many from the gay community are entering the kingdom of God ahead of the religious people who are heading up the fight for "family values." (If you want some background for this suspicion, check out the gospel according to Matthew: chapter 21, verse 31 and context.)

Lord, save us from the hopeless quest of making the world inoffensive to the self-righteous.

My Political Career

2008-07-26T08:22:00.002-04:00

I am an also-ran. On the ballot but not elected. My political career is going nowhere fast.

But what a wonder! I was on the ballot!

For what? you might ask. To be among the approximately 500 lay delegates to the general assembly of the International Church of the Nazarene in June 2009 in Orlando, Florida. It's not a large denomination, only 1.7 million members worldwide. Still, that gives many other choices of people to nominate as delegate other than me. There were 18 names on the ballot for lay delegate from southwest Indiana. My name was among them. Out of 280 ballots cast, 70 people voted for me to be one of three elected. That's one less than did so four years ago. Like I said, my political career isn't exactly rocketing me to prominence.

It's interesting to consider the steps to actual election. First, I need to develop a ministry that gives me name recognition beyond my local church and community. People need to know who I am. Then I need to polish a persona of wisdom and loyalty to the church. A bunch of conservative people with little interest in change have to be convinced that I will represent their interests to the general assembly. Yet, I must not give any hint that I might be campaigning for the position. Undisguised ambition doesn't set well for this sort of thing.

One might think that formal training in doctrine and church polity would be halpful, or maybe familiarity with the history and values of the denomination, but that would be the case only if people actually studied the qualifications of the nominees and valued that sort of thing. Networking is actually a much greater factor. I suspect that my piano skills are a greater asset for this sort of thing than any insights I might have into the direction and future of the Church of the Nazarene. If only I could get some piano gigs around the district, my chances of being elected would go up considerably. Especially if I kept my mouth shut and didn't let it slip that I am perhaps not fully committed to maintaining the status quo.

Still, I was nominated! What a great honor it has been to be chosen twice as a nominee for delegate to the general assembly. I am blessed.

By one measure, I had a better showing this year than four years ago when there were 24 nominees for four positions. Although I received fewer votes, there were also fewer people who received more votes than I did. Who knows what could happen in four years if it weren't that the puddle in which I do my piggy thing is perhaps on the path to expansion, sinking me even further into obscurity.

Even though I'm not a delegate, I am planning to be part of the Orlando event next summer as a "friend" of the assembly. I have missed only two of the last ten assemblies. And without delegate responsibilities, I can focus on the fun and fellowship. Life is good.

Plenty of room in heaven?

2008-07-03T15:07:00.003-04:00

This op-ed piece was in our newspaper this week. It alerts readers to the fact that Barack Obama doesn't subscribe to the basic tenets of Christianity. The authors write:

A basic tenet of Christianity is that profession of faith in Jesus Christ is necessary to gain the reward of eternal life in heaven. Christians do not believe the door of heaven is open to every “kind” and “generous person.” Christians do not believe that adherence to Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism or other religions opens the door to eternal life in heaven with God. That is why Christians send missionaries seeking the conversion of these religions’ practitioners to Christian beliefs.

There's a comment that

Obama has repeatedly said belief in Jesus is only one of many paths to salvation."

One of the underlying proofs of this heresy is that

Obama said that his mother was in heaven despite her atheism and outright rejection of Christ. While speaking at a town hall forum in North Carolina on March 26, 2008 he said his late mother was 'not a believer.' He continued, 'But she was the kindest, most decent, generous person that I have ever known,' Obama said. 'I'm sure she is in heaven, even though she may not have subscribed to everything that I subscribe to.'

From this we know the truth that no one will make it into heaven unless they accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. We also know that those who would allow any exceptions to that truth are not real Christians and won't make it into heaven. That leaves the pearly gates open only to those who accept Jesus as Christ and believe that everyone who doesn't do so will burn in hell.

I'm a little distressed by this position. How many Christians have I heard at funeral homes speak the comforting words: "Well, at least you know that your loved one is in a better place" without regard to any Christian witness on the part of the deceased? I presume that all of those people, like Obama, are guilty of heresy and deny the basic tenets of Christianity. I'm thinking that banning all who say such things might substantially thin out the population in that blessed place. How many genuine Christians do I know by those standards?

I hope John McCain's mother was a Christian. Otherwise, he might have to submit to the same test of being required to prove his belief in the "basic tenets of Christianity" by confirming that his mother is now being subjected to the fires of hell. Because that's what true Christians say when their loved ones die without a clear Christian witness.

I'm a little comforted by two verses:

Matthew 21:31 reads: Jesus said to them, "I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you." (He was speaking to the Pharisees at the time.) Tax collectors and prostitutes in the kingdom?! Doesn't Jesus know the basic tenets of Christianity? How are people who flaunt the ten commandments entering the kingdom at all, let alone ahead of the religious leaders?

A little later, in Matthew 23:13, Jesus told the Pharisees: "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men's faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to.

As one who is fully committed to a local manifestation of Christianity and, thus, in no small danger of slipping into the mindset of the Pharisees, I'm thinking that I probably need to be more intentional about casting my lot in with the "tax collectors and prostitutes" as far as finding the path to heaven and make sure that I'm opening doors for people rather than closing them.

Sometimes I'm more than a little sympathetic when people look at Christians and opine that if that is who will populate heaven, they might not want to go there.

Loaves and fish and multiplication

2008-04-10T14:14:00.005-04:00

I am a student of Andrew Murray (1828-1917). In his book With Christ in the School of Prayer, Murray sets intercessory prayer into the parable of The Friend at Midnight (Luke 11:5-8). In the parable, you have an unexpected guest show up at midnight and you go to another friend and ask for bread to serve your guest. Murray equates the guest to someone in need. God is the friend with bread. In intercessory prayer, we realize our lack of resources and seek out the One who has bread on behalf of our needy friend. I like that thought. It's not necessary for me to have resources to meet my friend's needs. I simply need to turn to the One who has resources and ask for bounty on behalf of my friend.

This morning, however, I realized that sometimes I'm less in the parable of the Friend at Midnight than in another story which Jesus showed rather than told. It's not that I have no bread in my cupboard at all. It's more that I'm holding on to five loaves of bread and two fish and see what seems to be five thousand hungry people looking expectantly at me (Luke 9:12-17).

I can't truthfully say to my needy friends, "I have absolutely nothing to offer you." The truth is, I am blessed and do indeed have a little extra to share. However, my meager resources aren't enough to satisfy the appetite of even one hungry person, let alone five thousand. I could give up my own supper and join the hungry crowd, but the little I have to offer is just a drop in the bucket in comparison to the need.

I wonder if God is still in the multiplication business. How many times do I refuse to share my resources in light of the enormity of the need and miss the blessing of seeing that multiplication factor at work?

I see enormous needs; I have limited resources for investing time, money, prayer, and emotional energy into those needs. I wonder what the process is for starting to pass out those loaves and fish. How much do I give to the first person among the five thousand who crosses my path today? How much do I save back for the second? How much will I give out before I see the multiplication start to happen?

"Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?" (John 6:9)

Is God still in the multiplication business? It's an interesting question to ponder.

Experience - coming out the other side

2008-03-16T21:01:00.003-04:00

Some recent discussions have brought to mind some of the darkest moments of my 50 years. One such discussion prompted me to pull out a prayer journal from over fourteen years ago, something I rarely do. Oh my! Such pain is on those pages as I went reeling emotionally from having the rug abruptly pulled out from under me in terms of ministry. Page after page after long, tedious page of journaling through the pain, trying to sort out what had happened and get my feet back under me so that I could face those involved without splattering them with emotional fallout. What I had condensed to a week or so in my memory actually dragged out much longer than that on paper. (I had to return to the attic for the next notebook before finding some resolution.)

I enjoy books written in first-person narrative where the narrator is focused on her own feelings and thoughts but gives the reader glimpses of what's happening in her world that she herself doesn't necessarily catch. (Recent examples are the Miss Julia series by Ann Ross for adults and the Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot for teens.) I was rather amused to find that in my own writing. In between the self-focused anguish and tears, there were glimpses of a friend who was caught completely by surprise by my meltdown in response to what seemed like a minor decision on his part. At one point he explained to me that I had a mental block and was immature. Even at the time I believed him, but it didn't particularly help anything. I was already working hard at overcoming both the mental block and the immaturity, but neither seemed to be dissolving away easily.

In those dark, dark days, I was walking carefully, aware that the phrase "this too shall pass" was still in effect. I expected to come out the other side and was committed to not sabotaging any relationships along the way -- either my own or the relationships between the people who cared about me and saw my pain and those who had knocked me off my feet. I expected to retain my friendship with everyone involved and didn't want to be responsible for rifts between those around me.

Fourteen years. That time, along with many other times of crisis and emotional duress, is now a part of my history. Sure enough, I came out the other side. My emotions stabilized, my spirits lifted, I mended my fences, and added each time of difficulty to my reservoir of experience upon which I can draw when I hit another difficult place or when I want to encourage others who are going through dark days.

Does anyone ever reach the point where they can weather the dark days with full assurance that what is happening to them will prove to be an invaluable experience in the days ahead? I can't say that my reaction to setbacks and perceived attacks is any less emotional than in days past. Maybe the most I can say is that I am more aware than ever that there is experience to be gained from the pain itself if I can simply survive long enough to get to the other side.

It has been more than twenty-one years since my third and last experience with natural childbirth. Going into that last time, I was aware that my previous labor experiences had been blessedly short. I prepared myself with the assurance that I could endure anything for eight hours, which experience told me was a reasonable expectation for the maximum duration of labor. However, when the labor pains were upon me, my confidence slipped away. Instead of saying, "I can endure anything for eight hours," I was reduced to saying, "I can handle this one contraction. I don't know about the next one, but I think I can make it through this one as long as it doesn't last more than two minutes."

One painful crisis at a time. And when added together they equal that great treasury called experience. Yet, each new crisis looms large and makes me wonder if this will be the pain that does me in. I'm still looking for a quicker path to the positive benefits of perspective.

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Book review - Organic Community by Joseph R. Myers

2008-03-03T09:01:00.003-05:00

The full title of this book is Organic Community: Creating a Place Where People Naturally Connect. It is Myer's second book. The first is The Search to Belong: Rethinking Intimacy, Community, and Small Groups. I wrote about it here. Both books have given me much to consider.

In this second entry, Myers contrasts a "Master Plan" approach to leadership with a more natural, "organic" order. He focuses on nine areas of contrast. I won't pretend to have a full grasp of those nine areas, but I found much in his words to appreciate. I hope to do a re-read in the near future.

The first "aha" encounter for me was the contrast between representative and individual participation. He calls this "responsible anarchy." As one who tends to lead by consensus, I appreciated the value he placed on individual members of the organism. They shape the organism. They give form to it. Rather than leadership forming a master plan and looking for people to plug into the roles needed to accomplish that plan, individuals within the organization offer their unique abilities and passions and everyone works together to reach the goal. This fits well with my rejection of the statement oft heard in the church that "It's not about you." It IS about people, about individuals. All the individuals. Communities are comprised of individuals and individuals matter.

Another chapter is titled "Coordination" and expands further on the idea of involving individuals in creating the narrative for the organization. The contrast here is between cooperation and collaboration. In the former model, leadership creates the plan and looks to "team members" for cooperation in implementing it. In collaboration, the team works together. There is less structure. Things may look rather messy and out of control along the way. Individuals are valued for their potential contribution and empowered to find their own role.

Other chapters deal with such issues as creating an ongoing story rather than focusing on a bottom line, incorporating new resources by adjusting the form of the organism, making helpful suggestions concerning the contribution of others rather than watching for failure ("edit-ability" rather than accountability), having an attitude of "abundancy" rather than one of scarcity, rotating leadership roles to capitalize on the strengths of various individuals, and focusing on the verb nature of relationships. This final topic depicts language as a requirement and basis for thought in a manner that takes me back to another book I have enjoyed -- Live to Tell: Evangelism in a Postmodern Age by Brad J. Kallenberg.

Myers looks to nature for examples of the idea of organic community. Flocks of birds have no designated leader, yet they move together. Geese rotate the responsibility of being at the head of the "V." Organisms in nature move together without formal, permanent assignment of leadership roles.

This book comes at a good time in my life as I am finding new opportunities for leadership that don't necessarily include formal structure. It opens doors to a sort of "sloppy" leadership that keeps a general destination before the organization without dictating the route to be taken to get there.

Like a said earlier, this is a book I need to revisit.

The Difference Between a Christian and a Nice Person

2008-01-13T20:59:00.001-05:00

Someone ran across an exchange I once started on a message board and asked me for further words on the subject.

The topic is: What is the difference between a Christian and a "normal" nice person? First, we need to define the terms. For this discussion, I will define a Christian as someone who studies and chooses to live by the teachings of Jesus Christ. That is a different definition than one which simply involves self-identification with the Christian religion. And it is different from one that defines a Christian as one who has been "born again".

There are many people who call themselves Christians who aren't very pleasant to be around. However, Jesus said that the greatest commandments are to love God and to love others. And it's a personal conviction of mine that loving people should lead to being generally kind and gentle in our interactions with them, an opinion which I could support with multiple Bible references.

Those who self-identify with the Christian religion but exhibit no evidence of love for others in terms of being nice to the people around them aren't part of my comparison here. The difference between that type of person and a "normal" nice person is obvious -- they aren't nice. However, there's a chance that they might still be genuine disciples of Jesus Christ who have yet to develop a consistent level of kindness in their lives. Although, my definition of being a Christian requires a desire to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, it doesn't necessarily include great success at doing so. That's where grace comes in - from God and from those who have to deal with "rude Christians" (which oughtta be an oxymoron).

Jesus said that people would recognize his followers by their love. The question is, How is love that traces back to Jesus' teachings distinguishable from ordinary social skills that include being kind to those around us. My answer is that there's often no obvious difference in a civil setting. After all, Jesus said that anyone can love people who love them back. (Matthew 5:46) I think that includes being nice to people who are nice to us. As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I don't have to rely on my commitment to his teachings to be pleasant to pleasant people. Things simply go smoother for all of us when we practice social graces.

In my observation, the difference a commitment to Christ makes involves how we treat 1) those who are not nice to us; 2) those whose opinion doesn't matter to us.

So how do Christians treat such people when they are "at the top of their game"? The second group actually goes away. In loving others, Christians care about what they think, not because they are concerned about being liked but because they want what's best for others. Everyone becomes important to them, from the street beggar to the company owner. They care about people's opinions because they care about the people themselves. This is the first place that we begin to see the difference between a person demonstrating the love of Jesus and a "normal" nice person. In putting the teachings of Jesus into practice, the Christian is more genuinely concerned about more people.

That leaves the people who don't deserve our kindness. Will a commitment to following the teachings of Jesus Christ enable us to be consistently kind to people who, to put it mildly, aren't very nice? Again, it goes back to loving people, seeing them, caring about them, striving to understand them. The "normal" nice person starts to lose ground here. They may continue to be nice in hopes that it will bring good their way but it's often because they lack a better coping mechanism. Their "niceness" begins to look weak, as though they're unable to stand up to people who need someone to put limits on their behavior. In contrast, there is strength in the kindness exhibited by one who is kind because he or she is a Christian rather than out of weakness.

What started this thought process for me was the people who have told me that no one will ever know that I'm a Christian if I don't spell it out for them, e.g. "I am being nice to you because I am a follower of Jesus and not because you deserve it." That may be true for those who could reasonably expect kindness from me. It's when I treat people kindly for no reason at all other than that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ that there may be a noticeable difference.

What do you think?

The Value of Calculus

2007-12-23T15:54:00.000-05:00

I took three semesters of calculus in college. As a librarian, I don't have a strong need for advanced math education. Most of what I learned so many years ago has long since faded from memory. Still, calculus has some small enduring value to me. Or maybe it's “pre-calculus” where most people meet the concept of limits.

Perhaps the easiest way to understand limits is to look at what happens if one divides by zero. What is the result for dividing 1 by 0 on a standard calculator? The answer is that it gives an error. Dividing by zero is not an allowed math operation. So no one knows what 1/0 equals, right? Well, sort of. Here is where limits come in handy. What if I calculate the value of 1/x and don't actually make x equal to zero but make it very small? I see that 1/1 = 1; 1/0.1 = 10; 1/0.01 = 100; 1/0.001 = 1,000; 1/0.0001 = 10,000; etc. Although I can never make x equal to zero, I can figure out that the smaller x becomes, the larger result I will get. If I could divide by zero, the smallest possible number, I would get the largest possible number, which is infinitely large. Thus, although I can't divide by zero, I know what the result would be if I could because I know where my answer is headed for progressively smaller values of x: infinity.

At the other end of the scale, I could ask myself what 1/x would be if x were equal to infinity. Again, I can't actually put infinity into the calculator and get an answer. However, if I calculate the results for increasing values of x, I discover that the answer becomes progressively smaller. If I could take x all the way to infinity, I would end up with a result of zero. 1/0 = infinity. 1/infinity = 0. Both those answers are determined by letting x come as close as possible to either zero or infinity and watching where the result is heading. The result of dividing 1 by any number between 0 and infinity will fall somewhere between infinity and zero. Thus, 1/x+1 will approach 1 as x approaches infinity and will approach infinity as x approaches zero. For every positive value of x, 1/x+1 will lie somewhere between 1 and infinity.

I find this process of determining the boundaries of an equation's result useful for answering certain philosophical questions. For example, in my last post I pondered the question of whether it is possible for one person to make another person happy. To find my answer, I assigned the person responsible for creating happiness in the life of another person to provide the maximum service possible to that other person. I made that responsible person into a slave. Attentiveness from this person approaches the maximum humanly possible. I then mentally assessed the happiness of the person receiving the full attention of that slave. My conclusion was that humans have no lack of ability to be dissatisfied even in the face of total attentiveness by the person they have made responsible for their happiness. A slave can't read the mind of the master. A slave can only work so fast and so hard and can be only one place at a time. A slave requires food and sleep. My conclusion was that, because of these limitations and others, an unhappy person will continue to be unhappy even with a fully dedicated slave. Therefore, if even dedicated slave-level service doesn't satisfy an unhappy person, I can conclude that no lesser level of service and attentiveness will make an unhappy person happy. There needs to be another source for happiness. Can a person affect the happiness of another person? Yes. But the other person will always have the capability of being completely unhappy regardless of the level of service rendered.

This is the value of calculus to me. It helps me solve certain mental puzzles by giving me endpoints to the possible range of answers as the unknowns move across their full spectrum of possible values.

x approaches infinity questions:

What if everybody did it?
What if I did it perfectly?
What is the worst that could happen (maximum unpleasantness)?

x approaches zero questions:

What if I did nothing?
What if nobody did it?
What is the best that could happen (minimal unpleasantness)?

After I find the limits, it is then easier to figure out the range of answers for likely values of the unknowns in life's equations, e.g. the level of friendship and service I have to offer to an unhappy person in my life will never be sufficient to make that person happy.

Three semesters of calculus for that. Or at least I haven't noticed any other residual effect of those classes. Does anyone have any other practical uses for higher math?

I Could Be Happy If Only You Were a Better Person

2007-12-09T20:31:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get the impression that I'm the sole obstacle to another person's happiness. Unhappy people tell me how unhappy they are and either blame their unhappiness directly on me, citing something I did (or didn't do) that robbed them of their joy, or tell me what would make them happy without mentioning my own ability to provide that missing ingredient. In the latter case, I'm never quite sure whether or not I'm supposed to take the hint and provide them with what they need in order to be happy.

This is a lot of responsibility. I already take responsibility for my own happiness. And much of my happiness traces back to being available for service to other people, to many people. The happy people in my life accept what I give them with gratitude. Their happiness doesn't depend on me but I can add to it. Most of the unhappy people in my life are independently unhappy and don't particularly notice me. There are just a few who seem certain that they could be happier if only I focused more of my time and energy on pleasing them.

I wonder. Has anyone ever found happiness in being served? Are people with devoted slaves to anticipate their every need happy people? I'm thinking not. Even the most devoted slave can't read the mind of his master and must sometimes fail to be fully pleasing. I can think of few more certain roads to frustration and anger than depending on someone else for one's contentment and joy.

So what do I do about the unhappy people who latch onto me as holding the key to their happiness? I can try to explain to them that joy comes through acts of service, but I don't think that is a concept that sells well.

In her book A Theology of Love, Mildred Bangs Wynkoop defined love as “impartial goodwill”. I think the best I can do for people looking to me to fix what's wrong with their world is to offer them the same level of service I offer to others. Sometimes it's easy to do less for those who show so little appreciation for small acts of service and consistently demand more. Other times, I find myself doing more -- service I don't want to provide and can't sustain.

Jesus Christ said that there will always be poor people among us. I suspect that's true not only in terms of financial poverty but in terms of emotional poverty. Serving those people with the same effort I invest in happy people might be the best I can do. If nothing else, doing so adds to my own sense of well-being. There is a certain satisfaction in neither walking away from a manipulator entirely nor giving into their demands but simply serving them as though they appreciated small acts of kindness.

Agree or Disagree: Prayer works

2007-12-05T21:37:00.000-05:00

Just over a year ago, I wrote a post on the idea that "prayer works". You can read those thoughts here if you'd like, but it's not really necessary. Basically, I questioned what it means to say "prayer works". I have racked up a lot of unanswered prayers in my life and have watched people who are more optimistic than I am rack up even more.

One of my favorite people in the world is now on hospice care, dying of cancer at age 51. If prayer consistently worked for healing cancer patients, he would not be in this situation. I am far from the only one who values his friendship. The prayer that has bombarded heaven on his behalf is quite impressive by any measure. Hundreds of people spread across at least three continents are praying desperately for his healing. His mother has a history of seeing miraculous healings in response to her prayers. She is praying. Many of those praying have devoted their entire lives to God and the church, some serving in high levels of our denomination. Yet, he's dying. If "working" means always granting long life to those we love and for whom we pray, then, no, prayer does not work.

My experiments have revealed also that prayer doesn't work for getting signs from heaven. If you want God to prove His existence to you by giving you some sort of sign, you will likely be disappointed. Or at least it hasn't worked for me. In spite of my prayers, I have no proof of God's existence beyond what is available to all. My faith is at its core simply that -- faith.

So prayer doesn't work for keeping alive and healthy those we hold dear. And prayer doesn't work for giving us hard evidence concerning God. There's some disappointment there. What good is prayer if not for miracles of healing and signs of divine power at work among us?

This post was actually prompted not by disappointment with prayer but by a fresh realization of what a blessing prayer has been in my life. It takes perspective to see it, though.

Fifteen years ago, I prayed for people with whom to share my spiritual journey. After a while, one of the few people who filled that role in my life moved away. My prayers weren't working very well. However, from this perspective I can see that I was about to meet several people who have become dear friends. And the internet was about to open up a wealth of opportunities to communicate with like-minded people. Was it simply coincidence that my prayers back then were for the things that were about to happen?

Not quite so long ago, I started regularly practicing prayer and fasting for my church in response to a call by an internet friend to do so. After a year or two of praying that way, things were going so badly that I stopped the fasting part, suspecting that anyone involved would ask me to do so if they thought my prayers were behind the storm beating against the church. The results of those prayers were disastrous. However, from this perspective, I can see that we were about to enter a new era as a church. Some people aren't pleased with this new place where we've found ourselves, but I'm certainly not complaining.

One of my favorite verses from the Bible is Psalm 37:4 "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" (NIV).

Does prayer work? No, it doesn't. At least not like a working, well-stocked vending machine where you can expect a particular item to fall out if you put in the correct amount of change.

Does prayer work? I don't know, but sometimes when I pray terrible and unexpected things happen which precipitate delightful and unexpected blessings.

Does prayer work? It must! I pray and I am blessed at every turn.

On the other hand, a dear friend is dying too soon and all of the prayer in the world seems unable to prevent that from happening.

Does prayer work? On the survey I took that asked me that question, my response (blank) was tabulated as "not sure/no opinion". Maybe "I don't know" is the best answer I have. However, it bothers me a little that my response will show up in some set of ain't-it-awful statistics that will say, "___% of evangelical Christians responded that they don't know if prayer works."

Maybe what we need is a different question. Agree or disagree: Prayer is essential to my spiritual well-being. For that one I can confidently mark: Strongly agree.

Book Review - The Irresistible Revolution by Shaine Claiborne

2007-11-28T08:11:00.000-05:00

If anyone pays any attention to my reading list, they must think I am a slow reader. It takes me a long time to get through the books I list here. I read fiction now and then and actually manage to return books to the library in a reasonable amount of time, but the "morning books" are a slow go. Too many of my mornings allow no time to make progress in anything beyond the Bible.

This morning I finished a book I have been working on for several months -- The Irresistible Revolution: Living As an Ordinary Radical by Shaine Claiborne. The author is a self-described radical. He does ministry in the inner city of Philadelphia. When the U.S. declared war on Iraq, he went to Iraq to minister to the people there. He has sneaked into an event where the President of the United States was speaking, passing himself off as a journalist and then removing his outer business attire to expose a t-shirt with words of protest. He has been arrested multiple times for civil disobedience.

This book was not a waste of my time. It is readable and thought-provoking. It gave me a nudge to nurture my natural pacifism. It challenged me to find ways to minister to people living in poverty. It encouraged me by presenting a snapshot of one person's take on what it looks like to take the teachings of Jesus Christ seriously.

This is a book that makes me feel like I've been listening to the author speak of his personal experience rather than reading about it. Every word is written in the voice of the author. I can imagine myself in a crowd of people listening to him speak. And in my imagined picture, I imagine myself interacting with him. Only, that part doesn't work. When I approach him, he doesn't see me. He looks past me for someone more interesting. Ordinary, law-abiding citizens bore him. He's looking for people living more obviously radical lifestyles than mine.

Now, I may be very wrong about Mr. Claiborne. He may actually enjoy exploring ministry possibilities with ordinary people trying to invest their lives in ways that bless those around them, particularly in the needy people in their world. But his book is written in a tone that leaves me feeling hopelessly dull and lacking in spiritual fervor. I'm not ready to give up my current community to seek out a more exotic setting in the inner city. If everyone who cares about needy people went to the inner city, who would care about those trapped in destructive lifestyles in less populated areas? I'm also not quite willing to accept his underlying message that says real Christians live in ways that stir up the government to oppose them. I suppose that if I looked hard enough I could find some form of local injustice that requires fighting the government to correct. But I don't have to look nearly so hard to find ways to minister to people in ways that please governing authorities by addressing community needs that aren't easily addressed by government -- e.g., literacy, adult education, and spiritual needs.

I think I may be too old for this book. I've long outgrown any desire I might have had in my younger years to stir up trouble for myself by bringing the negative attention of authority figures my direction. Actually, I get along quite well with authority figures. Maybe I'm just fortunate to live in a place where the government is more interested in building community than in oppressing needy people. Or maybe I'm blind and my blindness survived this attempt to open my eyes.

This book wasn't a waste of my time to read. It gave me a view of an alternative approach to Christian living. It's good for me to see how other people are living out the teachings of Jesus Christ. Reading it reminded me that ministry happens outside the four walls of the church. But it gave me no ideas for law-abiding ministry in my rural community. Mr. Claiborne wouldn't find nearly enough excitement and challenge in my world. While people were struggling with drunk-driving citations and literacy and economic issues, the most likely action I can imagine for him would be to move into a tepee set up outside the gates of the local Navy base in protest against the war, inconveniencing the civilian employees there by forcing the base to go on high danger alert. (This scenario doesn't take all that much imagination on my part. It has already been done in protest of some other military action.)

In summary, I'm not unhappy about the time I invested in reading the book, but it won't get a permanent spot on my bookshelves. If someone wants to read it, I'll mail it to the first person who asks.

Funerals and universalism

2007-11-24T21:20:00.000-05:00

We had a death in the family this week, temporarily stopping our world in order to deal with all that comes at such times. As a family member only by marriage, my role was observatory in nature as much as anything. It's interesting to listen to people at such times.

I spend a lot of time immersed in the evangelical subculture, where the world is neatly divided into "saved" and "unsaved", Christian and nonbeliever. The strongest mission of evangelicals is to evangelize - identify the unsaved and persuade them to get saved. We are warned often of the importance of warning the unsaved that they are hellbound if they don't become saved. Death ends all chances of salvation.

So then someone dies. And out come the platitudes.

"He's in a better place now."
"At least she's not suffering any longer."
"He'll be waiting over yonder for you."

Even if the deceased was the target of evangelism before death, one must be kind.

"May God have mercy on his soul."
"We never know what change of heart she may have had before she breathed her last breath."

In the end, we seem to vote for universalism, for all to be given a heavenly reward, regardless of the life they lived. Who wants to tell the grieving family, "Well, I guess that's it. Life is over. We'll just have to accept that she's gone forever"? Even worse would be to say, "You know, I'm not sure he was a proper Christian. I'm guessing that eternal punishment awaits him."

Death seems to prompt people to express some interesting beliefs about death and heaven. Someone told me that people refuse to die in the presence of those who love them deeply, that they will linger through endless days of round-the-clock vigilance and die when the one who loves them steps away for just a moment. It was the first I heard of this pattern. The message behind it seemed to be one of comfort for those who went to great lengths to stay close and then somehow missed the actual moment of death.

From what I hear, people believe that those who die are immediately escorted into heaven, that they can observe those who are left behind, that they experience instant healing, and that they are waiting anxiously for us to join them. When push comes to shove, they don't seem to have a very firm belief that anyone they loved would be in any danger of experiencing eternal punishment. Or maybe it's the ones who have such optimistic beliefs who do the most talking, while those who fear for the soul of the dearly departed, speak more of comfort for those left behind.

I don't have a problem with any of these beliefs. I don't know what happens after death. As I wrote in my last post, I'm "betting the farm" on some type of hereafter for those who are followers of Jesus Christ, a life with more than enough joys to compensate for any loss we might experience in this life. By which I mean that I'm not making choices as though this life is all there is. However, I'm not betting anything at all on the literal reality of some sort of eternal punishment. Universalism, the belief that all will be "saved" in the end, doesn't particularly bother me. It simply interests me that it seems to be so firmly rejected by many in regard to those who are living and so much more acceptable in the face of death and grieving. When kindness and compassion are in great need, people tend to view God as more forgiving than at other times. Or maybe those with more orthodox beliefs concerning heaven and hell stand silent while those who aren't afraid to express universalistic views speak up.

In this case, it doesn't really matter because the deceased had made a statement of faith before he died. Everyone present who believes in heaven in any form could rejoice that he had passed from suffering to his eternal reward. And mourn the loss of the good days when he was healthy and active in this life. Death is sad even with a strong belief in a blessed afterlife, simply because of the grief of those who are left behind.

It has been a difficult week and there will be difficult days to come. Belief in an afterlife never quite succeeds in eliminating grief in the face of death.

Postmodernism and Absolute Truth

2007-11-21T22:28:00.000-05:00

In his book The Church in Transition: The Journey of Existing Churches into the Emerging Culture Tim Conder lists "seven deadly fears" concerning the emerging forms of worship. The first "deadly fear" is: Postmodernism and the loss of 'truth'. My observation is that Conder was spot on in putting this fear at the top of his list. I have encountered more hand-wringing over this one perceived aspect of postmodernism than any other.

I am postmodern enough to be quite resistant to those who insist that there is absolute truth and that they know what it is. It's not that I don't believe in absolute truth. I actually do. For example, I believe that there is either a divine Creator or there is not. Absolutely. The choices are existence or non-existence, and whichever is true is absolutely true.

So I'm right in there with all the people telling me there is absolute truth. Right up to the point where they present an example of an absolute truth. At that point, they've lost me. How can they be certain that they have discovered the truth? What is their absolutely reliable source for that discovery? Why does their version of absolute truth differ from another person's? Which version is the absolute truth about absolute truth?

In other words, as a postmodern thinker, I (a) absolutely believe in absolute truth; (b) doubt that it's humanly possible to absolutely determine the absolute truth about anything.

The reason so many people involved in organized religion are so afraid of that position is because to accept it would leave them in the position of possibly discovering that there is no truth behind their faith. If there is no God/Allah/Great Spirit/Creator, then all religion is a waste of devotion. If Jesus Christ was not God in flesh, Christianity has no validity.

Many people believe in Jesus Christ as the conveyor of absolute truth about God and man. So do I. Where we differ is that I am aware that I may be completely mistaken. And I'm all right with that. I have looked hard at the possibility and choose to risk being wrong. I'm not the first to figure out that there's less risk in mistakenly believing in a God and in life after death than in mistakenly denying the existence of more than I can see. I choose to believe because I'm capable of believing and have found that believing brings great reward even here and now in terms of joy and peace.

What intrigues me is how the absolute truth advocates sometimes stop short in their faith. They are positive there is a God. They are positive that "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16 KJV)" But I sometimes wonder if they truly believe that God loves them and me and the lesbian couple next door. I wonder if they truly believe that the joys of heaven will overwhelmingly make up for the sorrows of this life. It seems that they are reluctant to step beyond what they "know" and make a choice to believe what seems less obvious to them.

Several "watershed moments" in my life have involved decisions to "bet the farm" on a particular aspect of the Christian faith. For example, there was a moment when I decided to "bet the farm" on "heaven" (or a new earth to be more scripturally accurate). That's not just a head decision, it's a radical lifestyle decision. It allows me to accept less from life with less grief. I do not seek to grab all the gusto in this life as though this is all there is. I may never do the things I have dreamed of doing in my lifetime, but I choose to believe that, in the life to come, I will not regret the things left undone on this earth.

Another "watershed moment" was when I decided to "sign up" for 'Sermon on the Mount' living. You know, turning the other cheek, going the second mile, forgiving those who trespass against me, that sort of thing. The absolute truth people warn me that one mustn't take such teachings too literally, that Christians have to fight for their rights, that we can't just lie down and be doormats. However, I decided to try it. I'm still trying. It turns out that I'm not a very good doormat. I keep finding myself back up on my feet. So I dig in a little deeper, try to lie a little flatter. And it seems to be a quite satisfying way to live in those times when I manage to pull it off.

Yes, I believe in absolute truth. Either (a) believing the teachings of Jesus Christ and incorporating those teachings into one's lifestyle brings abundant and eternal life or (b) it doesn't. Or maybe those teachings have limited value. There's absolute truth somewhere in the spectrum of possibilities. I'm sure that it's there, I just don't know what it is. But -- to bring in one more metaphor -- I'm putting all my eggs into one basket. And things are looking better and better all the time. At this point in my life (49 years and 10 months), I'm ready to say that even if the eternal life part doesn't pan out, the joys of living here and now have more than made up for anything I've sacrificed thus far in the name of Christianity.

Those looking in at postmodernity from the outside seem quite certain that one must be absolutely convinced that Jesus Christ is the only path to God in order to be a committed Christian. But doesn't faith by definition involve choosing to believe what has not been proven? Why would we insist on knowing for sure that our "faith" is not in vain?

My Internal Timekeeper

2007-11-08T11:01:00.000-05:00

For 16 years, I was out of the job market, a stay-at-home mom, no employment, no time-cards, no pay. Now I have a part-time job, no immediate supervisor, no time-card, modest pay. I'm finding it difficult to adjust to being employed. At first it was just a few hours a week and I was paid for what I worked. However, a couple of years ago, I moved to a salary and have been trying to raise my total hours per week since then. I'm only aiming for 23 hours a week. It shouldn't be that hard. But it is.

I think I have zeroed in on at least part of the problem: my internal timekeeper. It was developed during all of those busy years of being a full-time mother plus juggling multiple volunteer jobs plus trying to carve out time for personal interests. It operates somewhere below my conscious cognitive processes and has this capability of figuring out exactly how long any particular task will take under pressure.

The "under pressure" part is a key to this. Suppose that I need to prepare for a monthly library board meeting. I could spend hours doing so. I could review past board minutes for outstanding issues. I could work up a fancy agenda. I could send out reminders of the meeting to all of the members. I could write up a detailed report of my activities since the last meeting. I could analyze the statistics to report trends in the library. I could study the financial picture for the library and create charts and graphs. However, my internal timekeeper considers what must absolutely be done in preparation for the meeting and decides that it will take me no longer than an hour of working at maximum efficiency to prepare at some minimum level of adequacy. It then suggests to some subconscious part of my decision-making process that there's no need to start my preparations more than an hour before the meeting.

While all this is going on, the conscious part of my daily planner has decided to start early on my board meeting preparations and get them out of the way. However, other options for investing my time, some important, some not, some urgent, some not, step in and vie for my time. And my internal timekeeper says, "Sure, go ahead and do that. You really only need an hour to get ready for the meeting."

This creates some serious problems for me. That internal timekeeper is concerned only with checking off the most pressing tasks on my to-do list. It has no regard for investing time today in tasks that could be put off until tomorrow or next week or forever. It doesn't care about the whole 23 hours per week goal. It releases me to do actual work "on the clock" only if it determines the tasks I will be doing will be either interesting, important, or urgent. It likes to work under pressure. After all, I'm a much more efficient worker when I have only one hour to do what can be done in an hour but could be stretched to three. If I have three hours before the deadline for that project, I can either take three hours to do it or ignore the approaching deadline until only one hour is left. I find it impossible to do the one hour of work needed three hours ahead of the deadline and then fill those other two hours efficiently.

Something has to change. Now that I have become aware of how my internal timekeeper is undermining my conscious planning efforts, I need to find a way to control it.

Meanwhile, however, I find it fascinating that this ability exists below my conscious level to make a quite accurate assessment of exactly how long a task will take to accomplish at maximum efficiency. Packing for a trip? Three hours without pressure, 20 minutes with. Preparing a Sunday School lesson? Three hours to do dynamically, one hour to do adequately. And at some level, I have determined that the difference between adequate and dynamic is not worth the extra two hours.

Right now I need to be using my one day off this week to accomplish multiple goals. And right now my internal timekeeper is sorting through the deadlines for and importance of those goals and discarding most of them as less interesting, important, or urgent than making this post. It's reducing my to-do list to the bare minimum that must be done today and calculating how much time it will take to do only the bare essentials. While I was counting on accomplishing much in this day at one level, it was looking at my true interests and condensing everything else down to make room for the things that give me the most pleasure right now.

Self-control. I need to take responsibility for my schedule, for my priorities, for how I invest my time. Because what gives me the most pleasure right now is seldom the same thing that will make me feel good about a day at its close. Which means I need to reach down into the realm of my internal timekeeper and break it to my conscious will. I need to get a harness on it and use its surprising skills consciously rather than allowing it to derail my schedule by authorizing procrastination.

I wonder how that is done.

Banned books

2007-10-22T18:52:00.000-04:00

We recently came through "Banned Book Week". Did you have the traditional celebration where you are? The proper way to observe "Banned Book Week," of course, is to display a collection of banned books and encourage people to read them, as demonstrated by this blog entry from the Office for Intellectual Freedom. You may ask, If the books are banned, how will my local library be able to display them? This would be a very good question in my opinion. However, it seems to be a question that never occurs to anyone at the American Library Association. I subscribe to an active listserv for librarians and in all the discussion leading up to the big week, not a single person raised that most obvious question. I was tempted to give up my lurker status to address the question, but decided I had better things to do in life than deal with the flood of heated responses that would likely result from such a post on a library listserv. I'll stick to posting here and take my chances with the search engines.

Of course, the way that libraries can display "banned" books is because they aren't banned. There are no banned books in the U.S. The week's title is a misnomer. The lists used for "Banned Books Week" trace back to challenges from people who would like to see a particular book taken off the library shelf. There is no requirement that even one of those challenges be successful and result in the book being made inaccessible to anyone. The proper name for the list is "most frequently challenged books". One would think that people who worship the god of intellectual freedom would also go in for honesty, but, unfortunately, honesty has never fared well in the world of marketing and there's much marketing involved in "Banned Books Week".

We have few book challenges at the public library where I work. However, we did have one recently. A parent returned a book with the comment that it was not at all appropriate for children and did not belong in the children's area. When the report of the protest reached my desk, I was curious and decided to read the book. The title? The Fox and the Hound by Daniel P. Mannix, first published in 1967. Wikipedia says of it: "The novel's plot is extremely different from the Disney film's. It should be noted that the novel is much more complex than the Disney version and was originally intended for an adult audience." Well, yes, this book is not a happy-ending Disney story. It's a glimpse into the life of a fox and the efforts of a hound to track it down, told from the point of view of both animals in turn. There's much fox lore within its pages and I found it quite interesting. I've been compulsively sharing little tidbits from it the way other people seem compelled to tell me about television documentaries in which I have no interest.

Was it offensive and inappropriate for children? Well, that depends on your setting. Is it offensive for animals to walk around naked? Is it offensive to introduce children to the mating habits of animals and teach them correct terminology for animal anatomy? Is it offensive to include death in a story about a wild animal? I'm not sure children were sheltered from such subjects and vocabulary in 1967 like they are today. How has our society become so much less open about the sexual activities of animals and the life-and-death reality of wild animals while becoming so much more open about human sexuality in movies and television shows? I guess those shows aren't shelved in the children's section of the library.

I decided to move the book to the adult shelves even before I read the Wikipedia article saying it was intended for adults. I think it would be an excellent book for anyone wanting to learn about the life of foxes, but the reading level is better suited to teenagers or adults than the 8- to 12-year-olds who generally browse the shelves where it has sat for at least the thirteen years since the card catalog was automated.

It's too bad that people of any age have been allowed to read this book over the years. It's rather the worse for wear. I see that copies in good condition sell for $50 to $150 at Abebooks. That's unusually high for used books. Maybe we should lock it up to protect both the value of the book and the innocent minds of children who might discover it over in the adult section of the library and learn the raw truth behind such cliches as "sly as an old fox".

Things can get pretty dangerous in the public library.

Talking vs. Listening

2007-10-10T11:33:00.000-04:00

I’m not getting around very fast this morning - as usual. Thus far, I have spoken to five people – one in person, four by phone. I initiated two of the phone calls, a high count for any day. If it were up to me, our telephones would all have like-new keypads. Two calls (one received, one initiated) were strictly business-related information exchanges. The other two were less formal.

Meanwhile, I’m mulling over a meeting I sat in on last night. During the two less formal phone calls, I alluded to that meeting. However, neither party was interested in hearing my thoughts on it. In fact, neither one seemed particularly interested in hearing my thoughts on much of anything. The one who called me was more interested in talking – and had interesting tales to tell me, so that was all right. The one I called was more interested in responding to whatever it was I needed and then getting off the phone and back to other things. That was all right, too.

So I sit here alone with my thoughts and can’t think of a single person who wants to hear them. And maybe there would be no value in sharing them, at least not outside of my ‘prayer closet’, where I share them with the One who truly cares for me.

Yet, here you are at the bottom of my post. You now know more about what’s going on in my life this morning than any of those five people with whom I have interacted in real life.

I wonder. Am I more interesting in print than in person? Would you like to hear my thoughts about last night’s meeting?

Are you still looking for something new here?

2007-10-03T09:49:00.000-04:00

It turns out the blogs have a life of their own. This morning I noticed an e-mail from Bravenet (the people running my hit counter). It was a rather cryptic message saying that someone had used my e-mail address to access my account. They wanted to know if this was really my e-mail address and if I had "initiated this action". Huh? Yes, it is my e-mail address but I haven't accessed my account lately. Anyway, I followed the link and ended up signed onto Bravenet where I discovered that my blog is still getting a steady flow of 'hits' - an average of five per day in the last week. Most of them are people coming off the search engines, generally looking for information about "front porches". I've never figured out why they follow the link to my ponderings on the subject but if I were getting paid for every hit, that one entry would account for most of my income to date. MSN picked it up first. Now it's usually Yahoo that sends them here.

So, anyway, since the e-mail from Bravenet enticed me to first visit my counter stats and then wander over here, I figured I may as well update my reading list. I finished a book this morning. That's a rare event that calls for some sort of celebration. The book was Prayer by Philip Yancey. As usual with his books, it was written exactly where I live and I enjoyed it very much. I'm tempted to add a study of the book at a local church to my already crammed schedule. It started last evening and I already had three other events competing for my time. Next week is out, too. Why am I even considering this idea?

As to the book, there are many types of writing that are far beyond me, that I don't have the imagination or creativity or even desire to emulate. There are other types of writing that I'm arrogant enough to think I could produce on my own but wouldn't bother -- using flowery language to state the obvious. When I read books by Philip Yancey, I see the gap between his writing ability and mine as having more to do with experience and effort (research and diligence in writing) and the editorial process than anything else. His writing is the type I think I could do when I grow up if I would put my mind to it. He puts into words the wordless concepts that float around in my head simply waiting for release and gives me a goal for my writing aspirations.

I once saw a collection of book titles by Christian authors. There were two lists. I'm going by memory here, but I think the first list was of classic works about Christianity. Alongside it was a list of bestselling present-day writing in the Christian market. Philip Yancey was the only author who made both lists. Classic Christian writing that is enjoyed by today's consumers. What a talent!

Anyway, writing that requires initiative on my part (as opposed to responding to someone else's thoughts) isn't fitting into my life well. The three-month gap between this post and the last might lend credence to that statement, if anyone is inclined to doubt it. But my reading list is now updated and here's something for you to read if you happen to come here to see what's new rather than to read about front porches. Thank you for persisting!

Basic appliance requirements

2007-07-08T21:35:00.000-04:00

So we're getting a new dishwasher. The old dishwasher has at long last given up the ghost. Instead of pumping water, it makes a terrible noise that we have interpreted to mean that there will be no more dishes washed until a repairman shows up. There will be no repairman. Rather, there will be a delivery and the old dishwasher will be added to some mountain of trash somewhere.

This is a bit of a relief. The dishwasher is 11 years old. I'm not sure of the ratio of kitchen appliance years to human years, but I would say that it would be eligible for the senior discount on Cascade if such a thing existed. However, that's not why we're relieved by it's refusal to wash dishes. You see, three years ago, we did call the appliance repairman. The dishwasher was leaking water on the floor. And the timer sometimes stuck partway through the cycle and would run indefinitely if not manually moved on to the next stage of the cycle.

When the repairman walked through the door, I realized that I had already incurred some sort of financial obligation whether the appliance was repaired or not. After an examination, the diagnosis was given -- $275 to fix the water on the floor, another couple of hundred to fix the timer. I considered the matter. The repairman was standing there. I owed him money already. Life was crazy and did not include time to shop for a new dishwasher. However, fixing the old one completely would cost more than buying a new one. I compromised and had him fix the leak but not the timer. My husband was not thrilled with that decision but we were back in the dishwashing business with less pain than any alternative fix.

Time passed. As my husband and I headed out to shop for a new dishwasher a couple of weeks ago, we were discussing what features we wanted on the new one. As we considered shelf arrangement and noise and number of cycles, I decided to throw in a dream feature. Would it, could it, be possible that we could find a dishwasher that would wash the dishes completely unattended? Would we be able to find one that required only a push of the button and no further attention? Could we start a load of dishes on our way out the door or to bed? If it had a delay start, could we use it?

For just short of three years, the routine has been: 1)start the dishwasher; 2)set the stove timer to 20 minutes; 3)arrange to be within hearing range of the kitchen in 20 minutes. 4)at the sound of the buzzer, return to the kitchen to turn off the stove timer and nudge the dial on the dishwasher to move on in the cycle.

In the days before the dishwasher quit working, the stove timer seemed to tire of this constant babysitting of the dishwasher and was going off less reliably. It looked like we would need to recruit the microwave timer to take over. The dishwasher had become a burden to the entire kitchen. Only the refrigerator was spared. (It has its own issues.)

We're still washing dishes by hand at this point, but the order is in and the new unit should show up this week. The report is that it does indeed require no human intervention once the button is pushed.

Life is good.

New vistas

2007-06-26T09:49:00.000-04:00

During the winter, I started riding our stationary bike during daily morning phone calls from my daughter in Denver as she commuted to work. The distraction of the phone call kept me from being distracted by other things and wandering off after a few rotations of the pedals.

Now it’s summer and phone calls from Denver come much less frequently. And riding a bicycle inside is less attractive when the mornings are so nice outside. We have several bikes sitting around, left over from the days when our household population was greater, however, only one of them has been kept functional. I started taking a morning ride on it.

I’ve been riding in a bowl. Every morning I turn right at the end of the driveway onto our gravel road. Down a little hill, up a bigger hill, down the other side on a gentle slope to where it tees onto a paved county road. Then I turn left and start to tackle a long uphill slope. I can’t make it to the top. I go as far as I can up the north rim of my bowl and then turn around. At that point I don’t have to touch the pedals for maybe a third of a mile until I reach the base of the steepest hill on my route. I can’t make it up that hill. I go as far as I can up the south rim of my bowl and then turn around and coast down the hill and start the arduous process of repaying all of the energy I saved while coasting the other direction. It’s not at all a steep slope back to our gravel road, just long and mostly uphill. Once back on the gravel, everything comes easily and I’m soon back home, albeit with legs of rubber in my current state of unfitness. The whole process takes between 10 and 15 minutes.

Over the weekend, my husband looked into getting another bike on the road so we could both ride. First he tried the big one. It needed new tires that would cost almost as much as a replacement for the bike. He donated it to the bike repair shop and turned to one of the smaller ones. One tire wouldn’t hold air. Last night, he pulled out another bike and got it going. That’s the one I took this morning.

It’s nice. Big tires. 21 speeds! (Up from 15.) Smooth shifts. I like it. (Thanks, Sondra.) I still didn’t make it to the top of the north rim of my bowl but I topped the south rim. I stood on the top of the steep hill looking at the uncharted territory ahead. Now what happens? Dare I venture outside my familiar little bowl?

Not this morning. I’ve been around long enough to figure out that adding another downhill segment to my outbound route means adding another uphill segment to my return route. (I’m sure there’s some profound lesson to ponder in that, but not today.) There are certainly new possibilities now, however. Civilization lies over that south rim – church, town, the library. Who knows where future outings might take me!

First draft

2007-06-10T22:57:00.000-04:00

I am a habitual reader of the Christian scriptures. I start nearly every day with four short passages from the Bible and have done so for quite a few years. I was also a “Bible quizzer” as a teen, spending an entire year studying and memorizing passages from either one long book or a couple of shorter books from the New Testament.

In the world of theology, I am part of the Wesleyan/Arminian camp as opposed to being a Calvinist. Among other things, that affects my view of scripture. We believe that scripture is “given by divine inspiration, inerrantly revealing the will of God concerning us in all things necessary to our salvation”.* This is not the view that says God dictated every word nor that every word concerning every subject is factually true in a scientific way. It is a confidence that everything we need to know in order to form a relationship with God can be discovered in the Christian scriptures. They were written by ordinary people as the story of how God has revealed himself to mankind. Those who wrote were not aware that they were writing the Bible.

Those who believe that the Bible was dictated by God and is inerrant in all things, that those who wrote were simply scribes recording exactly what God told them to say, see scripture as miraculously given. Although I don’t hold to that view, I am still amazed by the process by which the Bible has come to us: Someone had to write the words; someone had to see value in those words and preserve them; people had to carefully copy the words and distribute them widely enough that not all the copies were destroyed by fire or flood or other disasters; someone had to gather them up and decide which ones were worthy of being called scripture and which ones were not. I know that the writings of the Greek philosophers were preserved from the same time period, that it didn’t take divine inspiration for ancient literature to survive, but I am still impressed by what has come to us, not only the richness of the collection we have, but the coherency that runs through it.

The other thing that impresses me is the quality of the writing. I not only read, I also do some writing. And I am a compulsive editor of my own words. Even now as I type, I keep going back to tweak a word here and one there, strike an entire sentence or even a paragraph. If I were writing with pen and ink, there would be strikeouts all over the page. And for what? A blog entry! How many will even read it?

I think of the apostle Paul writing letters to churches he can’t visit because he is imprisoned. Perhaps he is dictating to a scribe. He is concerned about the churches and has some points to make. Does he start with an outline? Does he realize that people will be outlining what he is about to dictate for hundreds and thousands of years? Does he know that they will build entire sermons and even doctrine around his choice of Greek words? How much thought did he put into those word choices? Is this where inspiration comes in?

I have written difficult letters. Sometimes, for the most difficult, I have typed out what I wanted to say, edited it, let it simmer for a while, gone back to it and done more editing and then transcribed it onto paper so that it would have the personal touch of being handwritten rather than coming off my computer printer. Did Paul do any editing at all? Were there scratch-outs on his paper? Did he have an edited version copied onto fresh parchment before sending it out? Or are we looking at first drafts in the New Testament?

Even with a good word processor and plenty of opportunity for revision, I can’t imagine writing something that would stand up to the type of scrutiny the Bible gets. And on scrolls of parchment?

I have read that some parts of the New Testament are written in less elegant Greek than others, that one task of the translator is to decide whether to reflect the coarseness of the Greek manuscripts in the translation. Still, there in not a book among the 27 that doesn’t have an inspirational message.

I guess I just need more inspiration. Or more editing.

*from Article IV from the statements of faith, Church of the Nazarene Manual.

Taking time to be sick

2007-04-09T10:22:00.000-04:00

One morning last week I woke up with the type of sore throat that generally signals the onset of something more. Sometimes I can shake these things off if I take it easy for a few days -- sleep a little more, relax, eat right, etc. Alas, this was not one of those times. Maybe if I had slept in on Saturday morning. But somebody had to open the library and the lot fell to me on this Saturday before Easter. Maybe if I had taken Sunday off. But it was Easter! I had a Sunday School lesson to teach and multiple songs to accompany on the piano. Sure, church could have happened without me, but it certainly wouldn't have gone off as planned. So I took cold medicine and headed to church. I did take a nap for an hour or so on Sunday afternoon, but there was a party at our house in the evening. That took some serious energy even with lots of help from my husband and daughter.

Now it's Monday morning. I'm sick. My nothe ith all clogged up. My voice is scratchy. I cough and sneeze. I had a headache all night and didn't sleep well. If you don't mind, it would be really nice to stop the world for a day or so and let me get off. Or if the world must go on, maybe I won't be missed too much if I opt out of today.

I sometimes think of Jim Henson (creator of the muppets) at times like this. He didn't have time to be sick. He was too busy for sickness. But he had time to die of pneumonia at age 53.

I don't think I'm anywhere close to a fatal case of pneumonia, but it makes for good justification to take a day off now and then and just be sick.

Would someone please pass the tissues and aspirin?

The power of the clock

2007-03-31T18:21:00.000-04:00

OK, I give up. The clock has won.

For 35 years or so, Indiana did not participate in the illusion known as Daylight Savings Time. Now we do. The county where I live managed to put it off an extra year by strategically changing time zones, but we eventually were forced to change our clocks last fall. As you know if you’re a faithful reader, I declined to do so. I have had my clock radio set to get the 6:30 a.m. (EST) local news and weather for years. I had no desire to get up at a different time. So when we went on Daylight Squandering Time (aka Central Standard Time) in October, I refused to get up an hour later just so we could have sunset at 4:30 pm in the winter. For a couple of months, I didn’t change my clock at all, but when it became clear that the request to return to Eastern time would not be granted any time soon, I finally gave in. However, I set my alarm for 5:30 am CST. That’s 6:30 am EST. I would still wake up at the same time as always and not sleep through precious winter daylight.

So along comes March 11 and the big move to Central Daylight Savings Time. CDT is actually the same as EST, which is what we were on year round until our governor decided that we should change time like everyone else. (I hope everyone else doesn’t start jumping off cliffs.) Finally, we’re back on “normal” time. I can change my alarm to 6:30 and everything will be back to normal.

Except I’ve grown used to waking up when the clock reads 5:30 am. And I’m an aging morning person. I don’t need as much sleep as when I was younger and I tend to get less by waking up earlier. (Even when I was young, “sleeping in” for me meant not getting up until 8:00 am.) My internal alarm clock simply noticed the new time on the clock and started going off an hour early. The radio comes on at 6:30 but I generally wake up by 5:30.

I actually find the internal alarm rather amusing. Usually, I simply drift into wakefulness in the morning. Occasionally -- usually because I’ve been up late -- the radio wakes me up. But every once in a while I’m sound asleep at 5:30 or 6:30 or whenever my inner clock is set for and the internal alarm goes off. A silent nudge will intrude into my dreams and say, “Hey, it’s time to wake up!” I then experience the same irresistible surfacing as when an external alarm yanks me out of sleep. This consistently happens at my usual waking time. Some part of me knows what time it is even when I'm sleeping.

The internal alarm would be quite handy if the part of me that fears oversleeping were confident that it could be trusted. It doesn’t work that way. If I need to wake up at a definite time before daylight without an alarm clock, that worrywart part of me handles it by waking me up every hour on the hour starting around 3 am, a rather annoying solution. So I set a real alarm when it’s important that I wake up before daylight. The internal alarm mainly gets exercised on Saturdays when I have no reason to get up early and there’s no 6:30 news on the radio so I have the alarm turned off. I’m all set to sleep until, oh, 7:30, or even 8:00, and actually managing to ignore dawn creeping in until here comes that nudge dragging me out of sleep. And now it is set an hour earlier! Thanks a lot, Benjamin Franklin and Mitch “not my man” Daniels.

Now if only I would start going to sleep at the appropriate time for this new hour of rising. I’m not saving electricity. I’m just burning the candle at both ends.

Poor, neglected blog

2007-03-11T21:54:00.000-04:00

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I forget that I have a blog. Maybe you're not surprised to hear that.

Anyway, it's not like nothing has been happening. I just haven't been writing about it here. I've been busy. I've even finished some books and started others. Maybe I'll check out this new easier template stuff on the new blogger and see if I can update my reading list.

My husband and I went to a conference in Kansas City a couple of weeks ago. That was fun. We even got to eat pizza with Andrew, Terry, and Josh, our favorite KC residents.

The conference was called M7 (short for Mission 2007) and was sponsored by the USA/Canada division of the International Church of the Nazarene. There were around 4,000 people there, a much smaller venue than the General Assemblies that happen every four years. There were 240 workshops being offered in six time slots. It was difficult to choose six out of the 240, but I was pleased with the workshops I attended. The key words in their descriptions were either "spiritual formation" or "emergent".

I shared my four points for worship from my last entry with someone. That person noted that I am on my way to having an outline for a bestselling book.

Worship
Orchestrated
Responsive
S
H
I
Participatory.

I'm three points short of a full acronym. Maybe I'll conduct a contest to come up with the other three points. Tell you what. I'll give the winner 5% of my take off the bestseller when it comes out. Of course, if you have the other three points, you can simply add my four points to them and write the book yourself and keep 100% of the profit -- after tithe and taxes. (I presume that one of the points might have to do with giving and that tithing the proceeds of the book would be sort of a given.)

I'll pass on the notes I brought away from one of the workshops. They actually had nothing at all to do with the workshop. I copied them off the back of a t-shirt worn by a college student sitting a few rows in front of me.

Top Ten Reasons Why Dr. Martin Is the "New" Chuck Norris

10. He can watch 60 minutes in 20 seconds.

9. He knows the exact location of Carmen Sandiego.

8. He counted to infinity. Twice.

7. He doesn't wear a watch. He decides what time it is.

6. He knows the last digit of pi.

5. He can divide by zero.

4. He doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.

3. He can win a game of Connect Four in three moves.

2. He can judge a book by its cover.

1. If at first you don't succeed you're not Dr. Dan Martin.

I do not know the identity of Dr. Dan Martin. Actually, I only know the identity of Chuck Norris because someone told me. I'm not sure I've ever seen him. I do know who Carmen Sandiego is but don't know her current location.

Anyway, I'm quite impressed by this list. Counting to infinity -- twice. Now THAT is an accomplishment.

Cheerio.

On Worship

2007-02-13T12:41:00.000-05:00

With increasing involvement in local worship services, I’ve been giving some thought to what I see as prime values for a worship program. One factor going into my thinking is the ‘perfect’ worship service I visited last fall. I’m sure it wasn’t truly perfect, but from my point of view as a visitor, it appeared that everything was done with excellence. The musicians were top-notch; the service had good flow; everything was planned and the execution of that plan was impressively smooth.

Excellence. That has been a buzzword pulled from the business world into the church. I find it to be a word of pure discouragement. If ‘excellence’ is the standard for all church work, then I need to step aside in my bumbling and let someone with greater skill take over. I work very hard at what I do but I realize that I have many areas of weakness (as those who know me best will readily confirm) and would not easily find a place of service in an ‘excellent’ church which was closing in on ‘perfect’. As I left that ‘perfect’ worship service, I realized that if I lived near that church, I would not be a member there. Not only because I myself am not perfect, but because I care deeply about other people who aren’t perfect. I would want to be part of a church where imperfect people would feel comfortable and have opportunities for involvement in the worship program.

All that to say that ‘perfect’ or even ‘excellent’ is not my primary concern when thinking about corporate worship.

So, if not excellence, what are my top values for worship? That has been the question on my mind. I’ve come up with four aspects to my answer.

1. Worship needs to be about worship. It seems like this would be intuitively obvious, but I am from a generation where worship became so overshadowed by personal testimony in what was called "worship services" that it took me years to define worship in my own mind. Worship needs to conduct those present into the presence of God Almighty and remind us of who He is – our God – and of who we are - His worshippers. If we have not humbled our hearts in the presence of God during the time we are together, we have not worshipped.

2. Worship needs to be orchestrated. We come together to worship. The task of the worship leaders is to conduct worship in a way that brings those present into the presence of God. This takes planning and practice.

3. Worship needs to be participatory. Leaving everything in the hands of professionals is too exclusionary for my tastes. Sure, there are those who prefer to sit in their pews and worship with high-quality music. However, there are others who prefer to participate in the worship service, even though they may not have the skills to be part of a program of ‘excellence’. Those who crave high-quality programming can join the audience at the ‘major league’ program down the street. I want to be invest my time on the farm teams where professionals get their start. I see a continuing need for training camps for those who haven't made the big-time yet. It seems that God often looks past the acknowledged frontrunners when choosing servants to do His work. I want to be where God is working.

4. Worship needs to be responsive. I’ve written previously about my aversion to the phrase, “It’s not about you.” The truth is, worship requires worshippers. We need to listen to those who are interested in being part of our worship services in order to discover the path to the throne of God for them. Is it music? Is it silence? Is it scripture reading? Is it corporate prayer? If music, what style of music? We need to hear what they say regardless of age, gender, culture, and personal baggage and incorporate what we hear into our programming, not to allow any one voice to control the whole program but to let every voice count.

Responsive, participatory, orchestrated worship. If we approach excellence now and then, that would be wonderful. But let’s not make excellence our primary aim. There are many more 2nd-string than top-notch worship participants. Perhaps a better aim would be to develop the full potential of those who choose to be involved in the worship program, both those who take up instruments or voice to lead music and those who respond with humbled hearts to the felt presence of God.

That’s what I’ve been thinking. Any thoughts on the subject?

Those pesky lines at the post office

2007-02-01T00:39:00.000-05:00

I live in a small town - but it's big enough to have a post office. Having local offices is a wonderful thing. I hope the postal system doesn’t decide to streamline like the state of Indiana did in closing our license branch.

So ... today I need to mail an oversize envelope and don’t know how much it will cost. I head to the post office. And what do I find there but a line! Right there in the post office in the middle of the day. Can you believe such a thing?

There is one postal worker taking care of two customers. There is a woman standing to the side whose conversation with the postal worker has apparently been interrupted by the intrusion of customers. There are two more customers waiting their turn. I join them. That makes seven of us all together. I can name three of my six companions, including the employee. The loiterer has a familiar face but I can’t come up with a name.

As we wait, the postal worker pauses to look us over and says, “I sit here for an hour with no one and then you all come at once. I swear that people get on their phones and plan these things.” We all pleasantly agree that such a thing is not beyond us. I mention that I sometimes tell the checkout people at the grocery store that we customers conspire back in the frozen food aisle so that we can all head to the registers at the same time.

By this time, the two front customers are leaving and the next person steps forward. The lady now at the counter comments that the parking lot at the grocery store is typically full when she arrives and empty when she comes back out. The postal worker reports that she went to the store for a dozen eggs yesterday and they cost $24.95. Yep, I can identify with that. That’s about what it costs me to go in for a gallon of milk.

It was the chocolate milk that was on sale that was part of the problem, she says. Hmm... milk is on sale this week? I make a mental note.

The door opens and closes, admitting a local businessman and a woman I presume to be his wife - an Old Order Amish couple. (How is it that in 28 years of dealing with this family business, I don’t remember ever seeing his wife before?) He looks at the crowd and expresses the opinion that such a line can only be caused by a lack of efficiency. I look at the busy postal worker and say, “It’s a good thing she didn’t hear that.” His response is quick. “I’d say it to her face.” As a twinkle comes into his eyes, the image of another younger face comes into my mind. His grandson! I had never noticed a resemblance between them. But there it is, that same little smirk. I consider commenting on what I have just noticed but my slow wit combines with remembering the report that the grandson and his young family have been “shunned” for nonconformance to the Amish lifestyle to shut my mouth. His wife fills the silence, reminding him that he has a business and that she has sometimes seen lines there.

The door opens and closes. One customer leaves, another comes in. The loiterer gives up on whatever conversation she had been having before the pace quickened and tells the postal worker she'll catch her later. I am now on deck for service but still part of the stand-by group.

I say to the newcomer: “If I’d known I’d see you here, I would have brought your pictures from the library.”

She responds: “I almost stopped by after you closed to see if anyone was still there.”

We then discuss the charming old photos of her parents as children which she left at the library this morning to have copied.

Meanwhile, another postal worker comes in, perhaps returning from a late lunch. The customer ahead of me has been served but is still gathering her paperwork. Both workers now offer me service. I hesitate and choose the new line. As I hand over my envelope, I hear an argument behind me about who should be next. The businessman insists that he has more business to transact and should give up his place. The newcomer insists that she is in no hurry and will wait her turn. She wins and the businessman takes his place beside me and lays down his parcel.

“I need you to clear up a little point of contention," he says. “Aren’t I always nice in here?”

“Oh, yes. Always,” the workers respond with maybe a hint of sarcasm. As he turns in triumph to his wife, one of the workers tells her, “You must be a saint!” The other points out that he is completely outnumbered by the five women present and should be careful what he says about women. (Is there maybe some history between these people?)

My envelope is weighed and the postage computed. As I walk out the door, there is no longer a line at the post office. Man, it can really ruin a day to have to stand in a long line like that. I can see why people complain so much about it.

Or not. A nice warm break on a cold day with friendly, smiling people and light banter in a nice little post office in a nice little town. What’s not to like? These are "the good old days".

Blogged out?

2007-01-28T23:54:00.000-05:00

This blog will be two years in existence next month. I’ve contemplated here such subjects as writing and gardening and empty nests and front porches. I’ve vented my pent-up frustrations concerning daylight savings time, various church-related issues, and Christmas. Such therapy I have experienced here, publishing all these thoughts for the world to see. My soul is cleansed. Peace has come. Ahhhh...

I’ve heard of writers who fear that there are only so many books or articles within their souls and that they will run out things to write. And I’ve read books by people who show evidence that this may be true in their case. They keep on writing but it’s just the same story in different words. Comic strip writers are perhaps the ultimate example. My understanding is that Calvin and Hobbes rode off into the sunset on their sled because the cartoonist wanted to quit before he ran out of fresh ideas. (That last sled ride was a great disappointment to many of us.)

So will I quit writing? Will I lose interest? Will I quit blogging rather than sign up for a Google account and make the switch to the new ‘blogger’? (And on a side note, will I teach my wordprocessor words like “Google,” “blog,” and “blogger” so it doesn’t keep underlining them when I compose my initial drafts in the more stable environment of WordPerfect?)

I won’t quit writing. The therapy is too valuable. Writing takes the tangled thoughts in my head and spins them out into the orderly world of words. Sometimes there’s some loss in the process. I read somewhere that people can’t conceive of notions for which their language has no words. I’m not sure I totally agree (which is sort of silly since the person who published the statement has presumably invested much more thought and research into the matter than I have). It seems that my head and heart sometimes contain feelings and nagging impressions that go beyond my ability to line up words to express them. But maybe the problem lies less in a mismatch between what’s in my head and what can be captured by the English language and more in a simple lack of writing skills.

Writing is good therapy. Writing appropriate/useful/interesting thoughts for anyone and everyone who stumbles across this blog presents a different challenge. Many of the thoughts fighting for expression in my head are not particularly appropriate for public consumption. Deciding what to share with the world and what to keep to oneself can be complicated. Some are much more brave than others in that area. How does one find a balance between a) protecting the privacy of one’s own heart and that of others whose words and actions factor into one’s thoughts and b) allowing others to catch glimpses into one’s heart and soul?

You may be thinking that this is a “good-bye blog” post. It is not. I’m simply thinking out loud in light of the fact that it is time for a new post but there are no current topics in my head begging for public consideration.

So ... how many posts can I make about having nothing to post before you quit reading?

Best books ever?

2007-01-14T22:30:00.000-05:00

Oops! I fell out of “active blog” status by letting more than a month elapse between posts. The holidays sprang upon me and I was sidelined for a while. But that’s all over now. We’re on to a thus-far-snowless January while Colorado hoards the entire country’s snow quota. OK, we’ve had a few flurries, but it has been mostly unseasonably warm with plenty of rain.

I’ve picked up my reading rate a little. Since my last post, I’ve read (or finished):

The Story of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum
The Last Word and the Word After That by Brian McLaren
Growing Spiritual Redwoods by William M. Easom & Thomas G. Bandy
Gutsy Faith by Jeff Edmondson
Leota’s Garden by Francine Rivers
Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson, & Greg Call
The Gauntlet by James Street
Two books about Nazarene missions.

Plus, I’ve been working on the magazine backlog. I subscribe to too many magazines to keep up on reading them but I like them all so I keep renewing and they keep coming.

I’m not necessarily recommending the books on that list, by the way. I read them for various reasons. None were “the best book I’ve ever read”. Nor were they anywhere in competition for the worst.

Let’s see. What IS the best book I’ve ever read? (Of course, I need a disclaimer for not including the Bible in the competition since including it would immediately end the discussion and my ramblings.) How would one judge such a thing? Christianity Today recently made an interesting list of The Top 50 Books That Have Shaped Evangelicals. Is influence a good criterium for judging the value of a book? Should I pick the book that most changed my life? Would that speak to the overall value of the book or would timing be a factor? Was it the best book ever or simply the best book for me at a particular point in my life?

I suppose that for overall shift in direction prompted by a book other than the Bible, I would have to stretch back over 20 years to when I first read A Christian’s Secret to a Happy Life by Hannah Whithall Smith. But then I’m delving into ancient history. A copy of that Christian classic still occupies a spot on my bookshelf, but I don’t know as I’d call it the best book in my collection. It simply came at a good time for me.

Oswald Chambers’ daily devotional classic My Utmost for His Highest (put together by his wife after his death) would be another nominee for a “best book I’ve ever read” award based on influence. I’ve been through it several times and it has shaped my beliefs and left quotes in my head. It’s also still sitting on my shelves. I don’t know when I’ll read it again. Not this year.

Spiritual Leadership by J. Oswald Sanders is a more recent entry into the competition. I need to read it again. I keep trying to find the original edition but that has proved difficult. Apparently, it was a book that begged for revision and commentary in its original form.

I suppose I ought to branch out beyond Christian nonfiction in my competition for “best book I’ve ever read”. In fiction, I’d head right to the classics - Dickens, Hugo, Twain. But which would be the very best? I’d need to review them all to pick one. Every time I pick one up, I am reminded that there’s a reason why the classics are still in publication. They truly have enduring value. I haven’t read any modern fiction that can compete with them, but maybe I’m just missing the good stuff. And in spite of a market flooded with new entries, George MacDonald who wrote in the late 19th century is still my favorite Christian romance writer.

Still, I keep reading new books, looking for another one that will open my eyes to new visions of truth. And I am changed by them. They tug on me and move me in this direction or that. Sometimes the move is almost imperceptible. Sometimes it’s more obvious, at least to me. Because I’m moved by them, I try to be quite selective in my reading diet.

Many have moved from print sources to film for their major influences. That’s not for me. The publishing world may be quite restrictive in whose words get into print and whose don’t, but it’s not nearly so limited as the world of film. How many movies come out each year that are worth watching compared to the number of books worth reading? Maybe I’ll investigate the answer to that question sometime. Meanwhile, I have a few more books to read. (I even updated my list of current reads on the sidebar.)

On Blogging

2006-12-10T22:38:00.000-05:00

So I lead an adult discussion group on Sunday mornings. We are currently discussing current issues. The material I have is dated so I'm supplementing it with internet research. Since I'm looking for opinions and viewpoints as much as facts and figures, I'm following blog links.

There are a lot of good blogs out there. Published authors have blogs. Celebrities have blogs. Editors have blogs. And millions of ordinary people have blogs. There are around 55 million blogs by one count.

I've seen a definition of 'active' for blogs as having been updated in the past month. I guess that makes this an active blog.

55 million. That's an astounding number of blogs. Many of them are inactive, however. How many people read the average active blog? This blog gets around 7 hits a day, down from 13 when my post on front porches was sometimes the #2 hit on an MSN search for that phrase. About half the hits are still on that one post, mostly coming off Yahoo searches. That still leaves a few of you every day who come here intentionally rather than off the search engines.

Have you heard of the 'long tail'. It traces back to statistical graphs and generally refers to the impact of the internet. Say that you graph the sale of all books in print from the most popular to the least. The bestsellers would start the graph with high sales. Then would come books with fewer sales, gradually moving into the area of books that interest only a few people. The internet has made it more possible and profitable to market to the niche interest groups out on the 'tail'.

Graphing blogs by popularity would give a long tail indeed. The most popular blogs get thousands of hits every day. Others get hundred of hits. Way out on the tail are the millions of blogs that get only a few daily hits. That's where this blog falls. Welcome to the long tail.

How many blogs do you follow? I have around 30 bookmarked. I probably most often check the ones with the least amount of traffic because those are the ones belonging to people I actually know.

It's an interesting world.

Still on the Lam

2006-11-28T22:58:00.000-05:00

It has been 30 days since the federal government’s mandate, prompted by the Indiana state legislature and county officials, that I change my clocks to Central Standard Time. I have not done so. I keep an eye out for the clock police, but thus far they have not found me. I’ve carefully checked the distance from my home to the demarcation line between the Central and Eastern time zones - three miles. If government officials start to close in on me I may have to make a run for it.

Our household is divided. The clock on my nightstand is on Eastern time; that on my husband’s side of the bed is on Central. When my radio alarm comes on at 6:28 a.m., his clock reads 5:28 a.m. As does the clock in the livingroom, the bathroom, and the stove and microwave clocks in the kitchen. However, the vehicles and computers, as well as my watch, remain on Eastern time. Since he flies out of an airport in the Eastern time zone more weeks than not, he doesn’t complain.

When I announced that I was refusing to change from Eastern Standard Time after over 30 years of not changing my clocks, I didn’t think I would last this long. How confusing it would be to look at my watch and have it consistently read an hour later than that of my neighbors. I would show up early for appointments and be in a constant state of confusion. It actually has worked out better than I expected. In fact, I rather like it.

Morning is my best time of the day. It’s when I do my serious reading. It’s when I’m most motivated to do housework. I don’t like events that compete for my mornings. Being on “fast time” moves my entire schedule later in the morning. Instead of 9:00 tomorrow morning, it will be 10:00 when the library opens. I like that. Instead of 9:30 on Sunday morning, Sunday School now starts at 10:30. Of course, this carries through the entire day, making evening activities also start an hour later. 7:00 meetings are now at 8:00, well past dark. Which is the problem in the first place. We should not be in the Central time zone. Sunset today was at 4:27 Central time. Every evening activity occurs well after dark. When our government leaders decided we should move to the Central time zone for political reasons, they did not take the additional step of delaying the rising and setting of the sun so that daylight would begin and end at the proper time.

This is why I’m still on Eastern time. There’s not a lot of daylight this time of the year. Less than 10 hours a day. I’d like to enjoy all we get. The way to do that is to start my day before the sun does. Sunrise was at 6:43 Central time this morning. My alarm goes off at 6:28. By making it 6:28 Eastern time (5:28 Central), I’m awake at least an hour before sunrise rather than just a few minutes.

Of course, I could always change my clock to Central time and simply set my alarm for 5:28 instead of 6:28 in order to wake up at the same time. Ah, but then we get to the power of the clock. If our clocks didn’t have power, daylight savings time would have never lasted as long as it has. After all, we could all simply rise an hour earlier in the summer and adjust our bedtime accordingly in order to take advantage of the early sunrise. But the only way we’ll actually do that is if the government makes us change our clocks so that we think we’re still getting up at the same time while actually rising an hour earlier.

My radio comes on at 6:28 but it seldom wakes me. I typically wake up at 6:00 or even earlier. Out of consideration for my husband I try not to turn on the light on my side of the bed before 6:30, but am not adverse to using a little book light to start my morning reading any time after 5:00. I consider 5:00 to be the beginning of the new day. Any time before that is part of the night. If I put my clock on Central time, I wouldn’t feel the same about starting my day at 4:00 a.m., even though it would be at the same place in the sun cycle as 5:00 Eastern. Likewise, I wouldn’t feel the same about going to sleep at 9:30 Central as I do about calling it quits at 10:30 Eastern.

A petition is on file with the Department of Transportation asking that five counties in Indiana be returned to the Eastern time zone. No official action has been taken on that request as of yet. It’s looking like it might be spring before the final decision is made and put into effect. Will I be able to hold out? Maybe. Maybe not.

Yesterday afternoon I ventured across the county line into the Eastern time zone. It was a bit of a shock to realize when I entered a city at 5:00 that it truly was 5:00 there, that everyone else’s watches read the same as mine as they headed home from work. That could take some adjustment. Being out of step does have advantages.

Holocaust

2006-11-18T15:23:00.000-05:00

I am a librarian. There are many facets to library work. One job that I don't do well is shelving books. That's because I get distracted by books that are not in their proper place on the shelf and end up sorting books rather than finishing the shelving job. That's not generally a problem because a high school student comes in twice a week to do the reshelving job. However, a couple of weeks ago, as part of another project, I had taken "new" stickers off books that were no longer new and decided to make sure there was room for them on the regular shelves. I discovered another reason why I don't do well at shelving books. I ended up checking two of them out.

The first book I checked out was Night by Elie Wiesel. I hadn't read it and didn't know what it was about; he won the Nobel Peace Prize; it was a thin paperback; it seemed like one of those books that a librarian oughtta read. Preferring to let an author deliver his/her material to me without prior prejudice from reviews or descriptions, I didn't read the cover to find out what I would encounter within the pages.

The second book was Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, another thin paperback. This one grabbed my eye because of Stephen Covey's reference to Frankl's writings in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I knew that Frankl had based his theories on self-observation in WWII concentration camps.

Of course, if you keep up on Nobel Peace prize winners or good literature or Oprah's book choices, you will know that I took home not one but two books about life in the concentration camps. I finished Wiesel's book in a week and finished the narrative part of Frankl's book last evening and started in on the conclusions he drew from his experience.

Two weeks of ending most days by reading about one of the most terrible demonstrations in all of history of the cruelty of mankind. Not exactly what I had in mind when I put those two books in my bag instead of on the shelf, but certainly a worthy addition to my "books I've read" list.

Meanwhile, I also completed Organic Church by Neil Cole. It didn't come from the library, but off my recommendations list at Amazon because it fits in with my typical book selections. In this book, Cole told the story of "Schindler's List". Being hypersensitive to film drama and disenamored with television and movies in general, watching a movie such as "Schindler's List" isn't in the competition at all as something I'd enjoy doing. However, I think it may finally be time. I've been slogging through the Holocaust anyway. If I'm ever going to watch this powerful film, now is probably the time. I think. Maybe. But not yet. I'll finish the Frankl book first and then think about it.

Research

2006-11-10T12:52:00.000-05:00

The internet has had a huge impact on research. I have an incredible collection of facts and figures and information of all kinds at my fingertips. If I want to mention the world population, I can get an instantaneous estimate. If I want to share a song that is special to me, I can find the lyrics and copy them here. If I want to comment on last week’s news, I can pull up countless reports and related trivia. If I’m not sure I’m spelling or using a word correctly, I can go digging for it in either my word processor or in an online dictionary.

Having information so accessible doesn’t make gathering it instantaneous. Nor does the internet contain the resources to make certain everything I want to say is factual. For example, a couple of weeks ago I wrote a short news release for the local newspaper about the historical collection of that newspaper at the library. I wanted to include the dates of the collection. As far as I know I was the first to publish those dates. Thus, I had to make a trip to the library and check and record the dates before I could finish the article.

Sometimes one can write around missing facts. “The library has an extensive collection of this newspaper on microfilm.” “The more than 6 billion people in the world ...” Other times, doing the required research is the only way to produce good writing. This can be quite annoying when one has time to either write or do the research but not both. When is it better to write around missing facts and when is it better to gather the information now and schedule another time to finish the writing project? If that project is part of an ongoing discussion, will what I want to write still be relevant when I return to the project?

We have an incredible amount of information at our fingertips, which makes tossing around unverified information and ignoring readily-available standards less excusable than ever before. I’m sure that’s a good thing. It is also rather annoying.

Reading report

2006-10-29T19:27:00.000-05:00

Anyone paying attention to the list of "What’s in My Bookbag" to the left of this post would think that either a) I am a very slow reader or b) I’m too lazy to update the list on a regular basis. Either option contains some truth. It’s not so much that I read individual pages slowly, but I do tend to read individual books slowly because I don’t read enough pages on any given day to make good progress in all of the books (and magazines) vying for my attention. And I don’t take time to update the list.

Nevertheless, I have actually read two books in the past two weeks. One was on loan from a library and needed to be completed and returned – Embracing Grace: A Gospel for All of Us by Scot McKnight; the other one I found abandoned in my daughter’s room – Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli.

These books have similarities. In fact, McKnight references Yaconelli’s book in his, along with several other of my favorite authors. Much of my reading is in books from the "emergent church" community, placing Christianity in a postmodern setting.

So why do I keep reading authors who are quoting each other and saying similar things? Why saturate myself with such writing? The answer is "balance".

Many of my core beliefs are out of step with those of the community in which I live and worship. When I choke on theology that is being fed to me by people around me, there are few if any who comprehend the difficulty I have in swallowing what is being said. I’m left feeling isolated and lonely. That’s where the books come in. They give me another faith community where voices of authority affirm what I discover in the Word of God and those discoveries are fleshed out with articulate words. It’s not the same as having a local church, however.

On one side, I have people who truly care about me and will come see me in the hospital and show me love but who teach and preach Christianity in ways that offend me. On the other side, I have people who write books that speak to where I am theologically, but who don’t know that I exist and certainly don’t want to hear about my hospital stay.

In the natural balance of things, the people who care about me and with whom I interact face to face have more influence in what they say. Their words easily get under my skin and stir up my defenses. It takes frequent, almost daily, exposure to the writing of people who never enter my world to offset half an hour a couple of times a week of listening to a flesh-and-blood person speak words that drive me crazy.

If I can dig in deep enough, I can fully identify with people like McKnight and Yaconelli and view local voices as merely providing a quaint glimpse into a fading religious culture. Reading the Bible helps. That’s primarily what put me out of step with the fading culture in the first place.

How grateful I am for those who write the books I read. And for those who discover those books and recommend them to me, including the people at amazon.com. And for the resources to get them off my recommended reading list and into my bookbag. I am blessed.

High School Class Reunion

2006-10-15T22:19:00.000-04:00

I settled in an area 260 miles from my home town when I graduated from college. That’s far enough to not get back often but close enough to be able to make it to special events such as a high school class reunion every five years. Saturday was our sixth such reunion.

I always look forward to the reunions. I want to go back to the dynamics that left me so intimidated and insecure as a teenager and show off the superior social skills I’ve developed over the years. No longer will I be an awkward outsider looking in, longing to be part of the 'in' group. I’m not that socially inept teenager my classmates once knew and dismissed as not worth their notice. I’ve made many friends over the years and am generally comfortable in group settings.

Saturday brought an interesting revelation to me. I’m still on the outside in that group. So much has changed and yet nothing has changed. Those who were obviously developing good social skills all those years ago have continued to develop them. They make the effort required to interact with me for a few moments, chatting with someone whom they’ve never known well and haven’t missed over the years. I wasn’t part of their world then; I’m still not part of their world. They didn’t notice me then; we have few shared memories to discuss now. But they demonstrate their own social skills by taking time to chat with me.

Those who didn’t bother to interact with people they didn’t find interesting all those years ago still find me dull and uninteresting today. They know almost nothing about me as a person and have no interest in getting to know me. They’re not sure why I’m there. After all, I have no part in their favorite memories. They characterize me as a person with little depth. I was 'smart', always messing up the 'curve'. They remember having my father as their 8th-grade math teacher. They don’t remember if I was in a particular class with them. I was just the smart teacher’s kid.

There are exceptions. I have two friends from high school who have gone to extraordinary lengths to keep in touch with me through the years. We get together every year or two. They interact much more often with each other and could easily give up on including me in their activities. What a blessing that they make the effort to contact me. They were at the reunion and it’s always wonderful to see them.

Then there are those whom I don’t remember well who have turned out to be people I could get to know and like given the opportunity. They seem content to interact outside the 'in' group.

How does that group so easily take me back to the old dynamics? I want to talk about myself rather than about them, to prove that I’m a person of value, that there’s more to who and what I am than 'smart', that 'smart' doesn’t even come close to capturing the essence of my being. That compulsion to prove myself worthy of their notice, of course, only makes things worse. I’m back to being the kid who knows all the answers on the test but has no social skills and isn’t worthy of their time.

Back home today, reentering the central time zone allowed us to be only a little late for an afternoon church picnic. I was back on home territory: catching up on the weekend’s events, reporting on our trip, making a note of an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, agreeing to drop off something for someone, hearing good news, greeting people and being greeted, balancing listening with talking, enjoying the group dynamics, My group. People I value and by whom I am valued.

It turns out that being 'in' or 'out' isn’t simply a matter of having good social skills. My classmates decided long ago who was interesting and who was not. The 'not' group is made up of people very much like those with whom I spend all my days. An Amish man whose name I didn’t recognize despite having gone to school with him for eight years found a point of connection with me and provided one of the most interesting exchanges of the day. And, of course, I never tire of interacting with the two friends who keep pulling me back into their company. They are true friends. (They also happen to be 'smart'.)

It’s time to change my expectations for class reunions and focus on those outside the inner circle, the interesting people I never knew who share some of my earliest memories. Even if they never see me as anything beyond 'smart', I can enjoy getting to know them and catching up on their lives every five years as we grow old together. The 'in' crowd always could party quite well without me and still can. It’s time to get to know the rest of the group.

Or maybe it’s time to put the past behind me and enjoy the many interesting people whose paths cross mine every day without having to drive 260 miles.

On prayer

2006-10-04T17:44:00.000-04:00

It turns out that a lot of Americans pray. People who never step into a church or practice intentional religion admit to praying. (I don’t have statistics to support these statements. You’ll have to take my word for it that someone has done the research and the results do indeed reveal widespread prayer.) People believe in the power of prayer.

So if I reveal to you that I’m a closet pray-er* will you want to hang around with me and tell me about your problems so I can pray for you? Will you be part of my church if we tell you that we’ll pray for you and your friends and family?

I participated in a church survey a while back. We were given a series of statements and asked to indicate our level of agreement with each statement, ranging from “strongly disagree” to “strongly agree”. One of the statements was, “Prayer works.”

I left it blank. Works for what? If prayer is speaking to God (the dictionary definition), how do we decide whether it works or not? Does speaking to your boss work? To your parents? To your friends? Does talking, in general, work? If we were asked any of those questions, we would seek clarification. Or at least I would. Speaking to my boss doesn’t generally work for getting my dog fed. Nor does speaking to my friends get me an appointment with my dentist. However, speaking to my boss can help me prioritize my work, and speaking the right kinds of words to my friends helps maintain my relationship with them. Speaking is part of communication (along with listening), and communication does accomplish much. Does that mean that “talking works”?

What was the thinking behind the survey question? What were they really asking? What does it look like when “prayer works”? Were the surveyors assuming that our speaking to God consists primarily of a series of petitions? In that case, I guess that prayer works when our petitions are granted. So does prayer work? If every petition voiced in prayer were granted, there would be much less sickness and pain and death around us. Is there anyone who hasn’t prayed for someone to live and been disappointed when death came? Or that the diagnosis not show cancer and it did? If success in prayer means getting whatever we ask for and being able to create a smooth path for ourselves and everyone we care about, I would have to say that I strongly disagree with the statement “prayer works”.

Does that mean that I don’t believe in the power of prayer? You might decide that based on the above statement. And I wouldn’t debate with you. Although there may be rare exceptions, I’m pretty sure that most of the time, prayer won’t help you win the lottery. Prayer doesn’t work for that.

Still, I pray. Does prayer work? Yes. It works for what I hope to accomplish by praying, which has nothing to do with physical healing, smooth paths, and winning numbers. I pray because I’m changed by prayer and it’s my only hope for making a difference in the lives of those around me. I pray because I have more questions than answers and asking God those questions gives me insights that I would never have on my own. (Which generally lead to more questions.)

You may not want me to pray for you (although if you’re someone I know, there’s a good chance you’ve been in my prayers already). I’m not likely to ask God to give you smooth sailing and to remove every obstacle in your path. After all, it’s the tough times that help us to grow.** I’m as likely to ask God to grant you strength to endure the pain that has come your way as to ask that He take away the pain. I will pray that you find blessing in the thorns, that you reach the point where you can look back on the tough times and say, “It was intended as evil, but it all worked out for good.”*** I will pray that God will draw up close to you and allow you to sense His calming presence in the midst of the storms you face. I might even mention to our heavenly Father that it seems that you could use some clear skies now and then, although I would probably stop short of actually requesting a break in the storm.

I wonder. Would you be disappointed if I prayed for you that way?

-----------------
Loose Bible connections for anyone who is interested.
* Matthew 6:6
** Romans 5:3-4
*** Genesis 50:20

Church – homogenous or diverse

2006-10-01T23:56:00.000-04:00

I read an interesting report in the October issue of Christianity Today. (I’m far, far behind on my reading and CT shows up with 154 pages for their 50th anniversary issue!) It seems Willow Creek Community Church has discontinued their “church-within-a-church” for 20-somethings. Attendance had dropped from 2,000 to around 350. Apparently, a program that attracts so few people is considered non-sustainable by Willow Creek standards. Ironically, there are few congregations around here with that many in their entire congregation and most have far less, but that’s not what I want to talk about.

The problem, according to the report, was that the group was isolated from the rest of the congregation. Among other results of this isolation, when young adults outgrew that group they found it difficult to make the transition into the larger congregation. Also, some of the elements that were distinctive to the young adult ministry were adopted by the church as a whole, lessening the need for having a separate group.

I find it depressing to imagine being part of a large church group that includes no one outside a 10-year age span – no children to amuse me, no one from my parents’ generation to put an arm around my shoulders, no teenagers with their boundless enthusiasm and energy. I think I can understand why this format didn’t last at Willow Creek.

I’m reminded of my “It’s not about you” post from a few months ago. I commented that the church is ALL about the people of whom it is composed. Tightening the age-span of those people enables the church to make it all about that one demographic rather than finding ways to minister to a more diverse group. I’m not sure that’s a positive thing. Rather, when we plan for and accommodate diversity, including age diversity, it broadens the horizons of all involved. Young people can find mentors and positive examples among the older adults. They can find places of service using the skills that they have at a particular time and place in their lives. I much prefer the picture of the church as family - children, teens, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins from Duluth, etc - to that of a college dormitory.

I’m glad that Willow Creek tried this “church-within-a-church” concept and someone reported the results. It increases my commitment to championing ministry designed for people of all ages. It’s all about the children and the senior adults and the young adults and the teenagers. It’s all about the old-timers and the newbies, those who know the ropes and those who don’t. They’re all part of the family and each needs to be given full consideration. There’s a place for activities that appeal to one grouping within the church more than others, but there’s also great value in making sure there’s something for everyone in the large family gatherings and that those gatherings occur frequently. Family is not just for those fortunate enough to be born into one that stays together for a lifetime.

Going to church without getting angry -- revisited

2006-09-20T23:57:00.000-04:00

Just some thoughts for a certain someone who is struggling with anger in relationship to the church. (And, no, C., none of this is about you.)

I think I've actually made some progress in this area over the past year. One thing I pondered was why I go to church in the first place. None of my primary reasons for being part of a church (fellowship, accountability, and ministry) require that everyone (or even anyone) have the precise same beliefs that I have. As long as I'm finding common ground with the official theologians of the denomination, I figure there's room for diversity in the local congregation. I also pondered some specific strategies for going to church without getting angry. But I think the thing that has helped the most is realizing that it really is God's church, not mine. He hasn't commissioned me to fix the church. The leadership of the church isn't looking to me for advice or guidance. I will not be held responsible when the doors close at the church where I'm a member.

There are almost unlimited ministry opportunities in the church. There are hurting people there who are searching for healing. There are discouraged people looking for hope. There are lonely people looking for friendship. There are hungry people looking for spiritual nurture. Every week these people gather in the church. How many go away disappointed by what happens there? Some of them may even go away angry and wonder if they can keep coming week after week for no more than they're getting out of it. They need someone who will listen to them and offer them words of encouragement. In Exodus chapter 4 the Lord asked Moses what he had in his hand. The answer was a staff. Moses did great things with that staff. Even when it seems I have far too little influence, there's always something in my hand that can be used to minister to hurting people.

The church is full of imperfect people with various goals and purposes, noble and not-so-noble. Some of those not-so-noble goals cause pain. Which translates into more ministry opportunities.

The humbling part is that I am one of the imperfect people. My goals and purposes are not always so noble as I wish they were. I cause pain, sometimes without even realizing it, other times knowing it's happening but powerless to stop it. It's in the rough-and-tumble of church life that I can find both good examples to emulate and bad examples that help me know what to seek to eliminate from my own life. At my best, I'm a missionary bringing the culture of the kingdom of God into a place that claims to know it well but barely recognizes the real thing. At my worst, I need to hear the message of grace and forgiveness and an invitation to do better. The church may not speak that message so clearly as it ought, but there are always at least a few who demonstrate the truth of that message. I'd like to more often be among those few and be yeast permeating the entire batch of dough. What better place to find dough to permeate than the church? The message of grace is as wanted and needed there as anywhere. When I extend grace to the imperfect people running the church in imperfect ways without inviting me to share my wisdom with them and focus on the many needs of those around me, I find that I can go to church without getting angry.

Most of the time.

On being a layperson

2006-09-13T23:44:00.000-04:00

A conjunction of various discussions has given me a new awareness of how theologically freeing it is to be a layperson in the church. That’s assuming that you choose to be part of organized religion. If you do, I recommend lay ministry over vocational ministry.

Some have pointed out to me that those who are called to vocational ministry assume a higher level of responsibility when they accept the ordination of the church. As a member of a denomination which encourages every member to dedicate their entire being to being a disciple of Jesus Christ, this puzzles me. Aren’t we all responsible to devote our whole selves to ministry whether it’s our vocation or not? Am I any less responsible to demonstrate and promote the values of the kingdom of God in a secular job than within the church walls?

As I’ve considered this and observed those in full-time ministry, it has occurred to me that the extra responsibility is not so much to God as it is to the church. The minister is the face of the church. Ordination charges a person to represent the church at all times.

Not only does this sometimes result in significant pressure to meet higher ethical and behavioral standards, it also draws a box around a person’s theology. Here is what the church believes. Thus, this is what you will believe – and teach and preach. To question the beliefs of the church would be to cause schism within the organization.

As a layperson in the church, my level of commitment to doing the will of God 24/7 is no less, but my level of commitment to the church itself is whatever I choose to make it. Anyone who looks to me as a spokesperson for the church is looking in the wrong place. If my pastor’s theology is weird, there’s a problem in my church. If my theology is weird, I’m just a confused layperson with no authority to speak for the church.

I participate in a forum that often has discussions of theological issues. I find it interesting that people often post theological questions and address them to the many pastors who participate on the forum. However, it’s usually laypeople who compose the bulk of the responses. Perhaps that’s because pastors are busy people and don’t have time to discuss silly theological questions being asked on the internet. Or perhaps it’s because the discussion involves accepted beliefs of the denomination and pastors feel obligated to stick to the “company line”. If there’s only one acceptable answer to a question, it doesn’t make for a very interesting discussion. It takes a brave person to think independently while depending for his or her livelihood on an organization that likes to draw boxes around people's thinking.

As a layperson, I can set my faith aside entirely and impact only those who have mistakenly allowed me to represent God and the church to them and whom I tell about my faith crisis. If it is a prolonged crisis, I may need to set aside formal ministry for a while. I may question basic beliefs of the congregation of which I am a part. Doing so will endanger neither my livelihood nor the integrity of the church. If it’s a mild crisis, I can simply keep my mouth shut when discussions in the area of doubt arise.

I don’t have to know the answers. I don’t have to toe the line. I don’t have to be right. I simply need to love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength – and my neighbor as myself. And act on that love.

You see? This faith stuff is as simple as 1-2-3 so long as you stay out of vocational ministry.

What I'm reading

2006-09-06T16:15:00.000-04:00

I started reading at an early age and jumped quickly into voracious reading. I remember reading all the Oz books in the bookmobile because the editions found there fit into a scarce category of books long enough to last me for a while but with the large print needed for my immature eyes. I couldn't handle the small print that was generally used for books at my reading level.

I don't know when I moved on to small print, but I think it was still in my early years that I discovered the Lone Ranger -- not more than 3rd grade, I imagine. I don't know what it was about the Lone Ranger that attracted me but I devoured that row of books in the bookmobile. They were old even then. Many had little "treasure hunts" scribbled onto their pages, i.e. "go to page 45" and on page 45, "go to page 110" and so on until one would finally arrive at a "you are here" message. There were a smattering of black marks where someone had thoughtfully crossed out bad words to protect innocent young eyes like mine.

As far as I can remember, no one ever told me that the Lone Ranger was a radio character before riding into the series of books about him. I thought the books contained everything there was to know about him and Tonto.

As I matured and became more discerning in my reading, I discovered that one can often tell when a book is based on a television show or movie. The storyline depends more on dialog and action than inner observations and the characters, having lost the body language they could convey on screen without picking up a well-developed thought life, tend to be rather flat.

I've sometimes wondered about the Lone Ranger books. Did they fall into that category? Would I laugh at my childish attraction to them if I went back to them as an adult? But alas, whatever else was true about them, the Lone Ranger books did not survive the test of time to become classics. They faded out of print and off library shelves. I moved away from my beloved bookmobile, which has likewise disappeared off the streets of my hometown, and there were no more Lone Ranger books in my life. Nor large-print Oz books, for that matter.

A couple of weeks ago someone clearing out their personal library in preparation for a move donated several boxes of books to the public library. I glanced through them to see if there was anything that should be added to the library collection rather than being set aside for the next book sale. And there it was -- The Lone Ranger by Fran Striker, copyright 1936.

So that's what I'm reading. It's not bad, although quite musty - definitely not for the asthmatic. There's nothing grand about it, just an old western that is now completely politically incorrect, but at least I haven't noticed that "made for television" feel to it. I'm fairly pleased with the taste of the young reader I used to be. I've been dawdling my way through it, but I may have to push to the end tonight and see if they ever got that east-to-west railroad completed.

Hi-yo, Silver, away!

On church fundraising

2006-08-25T12:26:00.000-04:00

A story:

There once was a small town by the name of Podunk with a small Church of the Nazarene. Two men named Jason and Fred were members of the Podunk Church of the Nazarene. There were also other members, but not many. The church was small. The offerings were small. The building was old.

And it came to pass that one bright and sunny day, the pastor of the Podunk Church of the Nazarene saw water where no water ought to have been. He looked at the old copper pipes and sent for a professional. The owner of Podunk Heating & Plumbing walked around saying, "Hmm..." and "Ahh..." and "Interesting ..." for a short while which seemed long and then handed the pastor an estimate for $500. The pastor looked in the treasury box. There were only a few coins in the bottom of the box. The pastor reluctantly cranked the water valve shut and waited for Sunday.

Fred and Jason were in church the following Sunday as was their weekly habit. They heard the pastor announce that the water valve was closed until $500 could be collected for repairs. The regular tithes and offerings were barely sufficient for regular expenses. The extra $500 would need to be gained in a way that would not reduce the regular giving. Jason and Fred were sad because they each had only $40 to contribute toward the $500 plumbing repair leaving $420 for their fellow church members, a daunting figure. How could they do more?

And behold, Jason and Fred were friends and had together attended a birdhouse-building workshop at a craft store in Nabrington, a nearby town. They both discovered hidden talents in this area. They talked together and decided that they would make and sell birdhouses and give the money to the fund for the plumbing repair. And so, they each took their $40 on Monday and purchased supplies for 10 birdhouses. With quick yet careful work, they constructed and painted 20 beautiful birdhouses.

"Fred," said Jason. "I propose that we put up a table in the town square with a sign announcing that the proceeds from the birdhouses will be used to repair the plumbing at the Podunk Church of the Nazarene and thus sell them to our friends and neighbors." However, Fred was not in agreement with this proposal and the discussion became so sharp that they parted ways, Jason to put together a birdhouse display on the town square and Fred to take his birdhouses to the craft store in Nabrington where he proposed to the storeowner that the birdhouses be sold for $10 each, with a $1 commission. The storeowner was pleased, for the birdhouses were beautiful. They were thus put on display.

Five customers came to the store on the first day. The first customer looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! But, alas, there is no room in my garden to display such a marvelous creation. I must pass these by."

The second customer looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! But, alas, there is no money in my pocket. I must pass them by."

The third customer looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! However, the $10 in my pocket is for the offering plate at my church. I must pass them by."

The fourth customer looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! I will buy one for my garden." And he did.

The fifth customer looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! I have no place for one but I will buy one for a friend." And he did.

On the second day, the same occurred and on each day thereafter until the last birdhouse was sold. On Saturday afternoon Fred returned to the shop and the shopkeeper placed in his hands $90 for the birdhouses, keeping $10 for commission. He offered space in his store for 10 birdhouses per week if Fred decided to build and sell more.

Meanwhile, Jason set up his display on the Podunk town square with a sign reading, "Please support the plumbing repair at the Podunk Church of the Nazarene."

And people came past. The first passerby said, "What marvelous birdhouses! But, alas, there is no room in my garden to display such a marvelous creation. Still, the Podunk Church of the Nazarene needs repairs and Jason is my friend and neighbor. I will buy one anyway." And he did and put it in storage in his garage where it gathers dust to this day.

The second passerby looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! But, alas, there is no money in my pocket. I am unable to contribute to the plumbing project at the Podunk Church of the Nazarene or to purchase a birdhouse. I must pass them by." And he went away sad because he could not purchase a birdhouse and participate in the fund-raising project.

The third passerby looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! The money in my pocket is for the offering plate at my church. However, I see that the Podunk Church of the Nazarene has a great need. I will buy a birdhouse with the money. It will still go to the work of the Lord and I will be able to carry home one of these marvelous birdhouses."

The fourth passerby looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! I will buy one for my garden." And he did.

The fifth passerby looked at the birdhouses and said, "What marvelous birdhouses! I have no place for one but I will buy one for a friend." And he did.

And in this way, Jason was able to sell birdhouses to 80% of passersby and quickly liquidated his inventory and packed up and went home with $100.

On Sunday, Jason and Fred brought their money and laid it at the feet of the elders. Fred said, "Behold, I took $40 and built 10 birdhouses and sold them on their own merit at the craftshop in Nabrington for a commission. The Lord has blessed me and I am overjoyed that I can now give $90 instead of $40.

Jason said, "Behold, I took $40 and built 10 birdhouses and sold them in the town square to our friends and neighbors whom I asked to help us fix our plumbing problems. By investing only $40, I can now contribute $100 collected from the community.
-------------------------------

Which of these men most blessed his church and community?

To many, there may be no difference. To me, there's a big difference. Fred received the joy of giving his own money multiplied by labor invested. All his profits came from uncoerced, willing buyers in a free market. Jason gave other people's money and collected it by using the church name to persuade community members to take on the needs of the Church of the Nazarene in addition to their own churches. The church became a charity project for the community.

I can see that sometimes having the church name attached to a fund-raiser is less to persuade people to give where they otherwise would not than to give name-recognition to the church in the community. I'm still not comfortable with it, however. It reduces the joy of bringing our tithes and offerings into the storehouse as a personal sacrifice and an act of corporate worship. And some who might have given will be content to let the community meet the needs of the church, rather than the church meeting the needs of the community, thus losing the blessing of giving to both the church and community.

I'm not ever comfortable with fund-raising for the church, but find it less offensive if it is limited to children and youth who have no marketable skills to use to earn money to give to the Lord and who, thus, must depend on the charity of adults either in the church or in the larger community to fund their activities. In those cases, fundraisers can help the child with less financial support at home participate in activities from which he or she would otherwise be excluded. As for the adults:

When a group of Christians come together for worship, fellowship, discipleship, and ministry they are blessed in the pooling of their resources to support the activities of their fellowship. Asking the community to support the needs of that fellowship group poses a significant threat to the health of the church they have formed together – in my opinion.

Since this is my blog, I suppose I'm allowed to express that opinion here. But if you're ever in Podunk, be kind to Jason, all right? He's really a good guy doing his best to support the church. We just have different ideas as to the best approach to doing that.

What do you think? (Feel free to add a comment expressing your own opinion.)

On Brevity

2006-08-23T16:40:00.000-04:00

I was looking around at some blogs by writers this week and noticed that most of them contain frequent, short posts.

How do they say anything?

Melancholy evening

2006-08-14T22:14:00.000-04:00

What makes for melancholy days? Hormones or lack thereof? A chemical imbalance? Is it more a product of physical forces or psychological? Is it entirely caused by internal disturbances? Do external disturbances have anything to do with it?

I tend to hover not far short of euphoria. I enjoy my life. I enjoy knowing that I am loved and have love to give to others. I love being competent for at least some percentage of the tasks I face. I love being self-determinate to some extent. I enjoy thinking that I am in relationship with the God of the universe. Even if my faith someday turns out to be totally in error, for right now it seems that following the law of God as recorded in the Bible produces blessings not rivaled by any other path. I have no complaints about where life has brought me. Most days.

Then there are days like today. Chris Rice has a song that speaks of the good days and asks, “Why should any day be like today?” Then it speaks of the bad days and asks the same question: “Why should any day be like today?” Both are good questions. I certainly don’t deserve the good days. But given that most days are good, what is the source of a melancholy day?

Today didn’t start off blue. I think it was late afternoon when it started to go downhill. Ironically enough, the initial trigger might have been someone asking how I was with genuine interest. “Are you okay? You seem ...uhmm...”

I don’t know what word would have come next. Rather than waiting for however long the search for it might have taken, I stepped in after a brief pause to affirm that I was fine. And I was. But the question went with me as I moved on to my next interaction. I felt that my assertion that I was fine rang empty. Isn’t that what people say when they simply choose not to share their grief? Wouldn’t it have been more considerate to share whatever was bothering me? But what was it that made me seem ... uhmm ...? I couldn’t imagine. Particularly since I have no clue as to nature of the elusive adjective.

A while later, I found that two communiques I had written had been misunderstood by two different people. When I pointed out one misunderstanding and took credit for not communicating clearly, the response was “You probably think you write well.” Well, yes, I must admit that I have sometimes entertained the idea that I might communicate better in print than verbally, not because of my own evaluation but because of unsolicited positive feedback from independent sources. But today all those positive words seem empty against the evidence of my failure to communicate and the mockery I thought I detected in the assessment that I only think I can write effectively.

How many positive words does it take to balance negative words? The positive words could be spoken out of kindness or pity or someone’s desire that I like them. Negative words seem so much more honest and substantial. Perhaps they represent what the majority of people are thinking but are too nice to say. It takes independent thought to speak the negative when others are voting together in a positive manner. Isn’t it likely that it’s the unkind people in my life who are most willing to speak the truth to me, since they are obviously the least concerned about whether I like them or not?

Time to sing the blues. I didn’t actually sing, but I did dig out some old piano music. Neil Diamond had a point in “Song Sung Blue” about how blues music can sometimes make you feel better. I distinctly dislike Neil Diamond music so I didn’t play that one, but there are plenty of others. It was nice, but didn’t last. As the chords faded away, the cloud of melancholy crept back in again.

Writing. Sometimes that’s a good antidote for the blues. Even if my communication skills are lagging, I know for myself what I’m trying to say and enjoy wrapping words around my thoughts. So here you are – a melancholy post for a melancholy evening. I had to do it quickly. The borderline euphoria is already threatening to disperse the clouds and by morning light is likely to have sent the blues packing.

I'm glad that there are sad songs and empty lines waiting for print when the blues come along. I may as well enjoy being melancholy while it lasts, which is seldom long.

Seasonal amnesia

2006-08-13T22:51:00.000-04:00

After long days of stinking hot weather, the window air conditioner is turned off tonight and the whole-house fan on with windows open. The night noises coming from the woods outside my bedroom window are those of late summer -- the loud and incessant songs of crickets, locusts, and whatever.

If you asked me in March about the characteristics of August in southern Indiana, I would tell you it tends to be hot and humid without a lot of rain. The rivers are low, the garden overrun with weeds and overripe cucumbers. I would not mention the crickets. That’s because I forget about them when it’s not late summer. I don’t even know when they start their season of singing or when it ends. In fact, I don’t know during which hours of the day and night they perform their serenade. It’s 9:15 pm (Central) right now and they’ve been singing for several hours.

The seasons come and go and bring me surprises. I forget how loud the morning birds are in the spring. When I long for warm weather in the winter, I forget about the bugs that are part of summer. I also forget how difficult it is to keep up with housecleaning during summer break. When I long for cooler weather in the summer, I forget about having to keep the fire going and dealing with outerwear and mud. When I look ahead to spring, I forget about the capriciousness of March and the tornado warnings that come with April showers. My focus is on the flowers and those rare days of perfect spring weather.

Every season brings pleasant moments. And unpleasant. I tend to remember the pleasant part of each and forget the unpleasant aspects. Sometimes. Other times I focus in on the unpleasant and forget some of the pleasant side effects, such as the smell of summer rain after a dry spell.

Perfect days are rare enough in southern Indiana to be treasured. A week ago I spent half a day in a canoe on a river that was just the right depth and the right width, with a pleasant mix of sun and shade and a good sampling of wildlife on a perfect sunny day with temperatures in the high 80s and a pleasant partner in a pleasant group. A sudden dip in the river when the canoe hung up on a rock and tipped us over, was not at all unpleasant. (At least not the first time.) It had been many years since past canoe experiences. My memories of those times are fringed with frustration and maybe even some tears in connection with a canoe that refused to respond the way I wanted it to. Is my memory focused in on the unpleasant side of those times? Were there pleasant moments that I’ve forgotten? Those past experiences could not have been nearly so satisfying overall as this recent one or I think I would have remembered more about the good parts.

School starts this week in the local public school systems. My college kids will be heading back in the next couple of weeks. The nest will be empty again. There will be opportunity to reestablish daily routines. Household chores can be scheduled with less likelihood of interruption. I might even be able to post blog entries on a more regular basis and finish up some books and update my reading list. This seems like a very good thing to me. I think I like fall. I think I like it a lot. But I’m probably forgetting something.

Confessions of a Geek

2006-07-16T22:16:00.000-04:00

A little over three years ago, for our 25th wedding anniversary, my husband gave me a Dell Axim PDA. After 25 years he’s well trained in the rules of buying me gifts – no clothes; NO kitchen appliances! Garden tools are all right as long as they don't come with small gasoline engines. (The "Weedeater" for our 15th anniversary was a bit of a bust but still better than a blender.) Technology is good. I loved the PDA. It’s even appropriately silver.

The point of a PDA was to have easy access to the library holdings while shopping. Most of the videos for the library come from Wal-Mart. With a Pocket Excel file of all the videos in the library, I can stand in the store and make sure that the video in my hand is not already on the shelf at the library. Or if I see bargain books in a bookstore, I can check to see which titles we don’t have. Very nice.

It turns out that getting the list of holdings out of the library database and into manageable Excel spreadsheets on the PDA is not as trivial as one might hope and it’s past time to update my files again, but it has been useful. And, besides, PDAs do more than spreadsheets. My Dell has calendars, notes, contacts, and task lists that sync with Microsoft Outlook. This means that in one small silver box I keep my address book with phone numbers, my datebook, my grocery list, my to-do list, and miscellaneous notes such as the estimate for a car repair, the hours of the recycling center, the part number for buying vacuum cleaner bags from Sears, and how to update the cell phone. That’s nice. It’s not perfect. I’ve totally missed meetings and appointments because I forgot to check the calendar and didn’t notice the reminder message, but it’s still nice.

Back a year or so, someone mentioned on an internet message board that they used their PDA to play midi files for church services, plugging it into the sound system. This caught my attention. I knew that my PDA would play .mp3 files but the sound quality is certainly nothing to write home about with its chintzy little speaker. I seldom messed with music on it. What was this about plugging it into a sound system? I examined it and discovered something I had completely overlooked – a headphone jack! Voila! I have an mp3 player! It does playlists and shuffles between songs and works with the tape adapters we already had in our cars for portable CD players. This opened up a whole new career for my PDA. Except I needed more memory. I could only squeeze 16 songs onto the SD memory card I had for it. I put a bigger card on my Christmas list. I also found a small CF memory card for the other slot that would hold four songs.

Last week I attended the “Women of Faith” conference in Chicago. During a break, the bag I was carrying somehow became inverted and the velcro pocket holding my PDA wasn’t fastened shut. The PDA hit the floor and the stylus fell out. I gathered it up and was relieved to discover that it still worked. It wasn’t until the following day on my way home that I discovered my music selection was drastically reduced. Closer examination revealed that the SD card slot was empty. All my nice music was in a little memory card left on the floor of a restroom in the United Center in Chicago. I felt such loss. Which is ridiculous. I still had the PDA and it still worked. I still had all of the songs on my laptop at home. I had actually lost nothing except the memory card. But it was gone. Forever gone. (OK, I could contact the United Center and ask them to check lost-and-found and mail it back to me, but short of making that effort it’s gone.) I was sad.

Less than a week later, my husband and I took our daughter to the airport and had time to shop on the way home. At the first store, we headed to “Electronics”. And there it was! The purchase of my dreams. A 512 MB SD card packaged with a translucent reader which converts it into a USB jump drive. I excitedly made the purchase and started the arduous process of extracting it from its plastic armored packaging. So much memory. I wondered about adding more software to my PDA. The one thing it hadn’t become was a portable Bible for when I found myself facing a sermon without the proper resources. I started looking around stores for software and discovered it’s rather pricey.

As we made our way home, my husband spotted a Verizon dealer and decided to take care of a family cell phone crisis. I asked to be dropped off at a nearby K-Mart while he did that. I thought I’d look at clothes. Or maybe luggage. But where did I end up? “Electronics,” of course. This time I found a 64 MB CF card – four times as big as the one I had – marked down to $7. How could I pass up such a bargain?

I came home and, with a greater awareness of the value of software for the device, downloaded a couple of demo programs, including a $14 Bible reader and one free Bible translation. Now, along with the address book, notebook, library card catalog, and .mp3 player, my little silver box contains a portable Bible for life’s little emergencies. And there are yet untapped capabilities. It would happily serve as an alarm clock if I found myself in a Motel 6 and had forgotten to bring my clock radio. I have map software that I need to find a way to load onto it.

I was so excited about my buys I wanted to tell all my friends. But who really cares about memory cards and software for my geeky PDA? I didn’t have a single sensible “girl purchase” to show for my day.

It’s true. I’m a geek. I love my technological toys. Did I mention the GPS I thought I was buying for my husband a few years back? Oh well, maybe another time.

Celebrating God and Country

2006-07-03T00:17:00.000-04:00

Being a critical thinker can be a pain sometimes. For one thing, it tends to make one critical, which is not exactly the way to win friends and influence people. Who could ever love a critic?

This morning I found myself participating in a church service designed to celebrate the independence of the United States of America. It was nicely done and attracted a good crowd. There was a color guard with several World War II veterans. All former service personnel present were given Bibles. The songs that were sung spoke of God and country. The speaker spoke of maintaining his Christian faith while serving in the military. The congregation pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

Wait. They did what?! They pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the country for which it stands. In the sanctuary of a Christian church on Sunday morning. They did not pledge allegiance to the Christian faith or to the God they gathered to worship. They pledged allegiance to a particular flag representing a particular citizenship.

Now, granted, every single person present in the service was born in the U.S.A. and learned the pledge to the American flag at an early age. This is in the center of the U.S., hundreds of miles from the closest border. While there are many non-citizens in the county, there are few in the immediate community and none of those have ever stepped foot into this particular church. Everyone present was a red-blooded American and glad to pledge allegiance to the flag. Well, almost everyone.

It’s the internet that has ruined me for this type of service! Where else would I have had personal conversations with Europeans who are shocked by the way Americans mix up God and country? Where else would I have learned to cringe when Americans cite our country’s great wealth and power as indicative of God’s special favor? Where else would I have encountered the crazy assertion that God is not a Republican? Worse, that He’s not even an American? Certainly not in this community where almost all local officials are selected in the Republican primary.

I’m torn. Even before the internet I was bothered by secular holiday traditions being brought into the church. Santa Claus. The Easter Bunny. There’s nothing evil about those symbols but they are irrelevant to the mystery of the Incarnation and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. The secular side of the holidays can be found anywhere. Only in the church is the holy lifted out of the holiday and the mystery of God in flesh dying on behalf of mankind and being resurrected from the dead made known. Why would we invite Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny into the church when we have the real deal! Our entire faith rests on the events behind Christmas and Easter. Shouldn’t we focus on those awe-inspiring events and provide a sanctuary away from what they become in the hands of retailers?

I noticed on my own how shabby Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny look when set up against the Incarnation and Resurrection. It took the internet to show me how shabby the worship of the most powerful country on earth looks when set up against the least powerful aspect of the kingdom of heaven. This world is not our home. Why are we pledging allegiance to a civil government during the one time of the week set aside for the express purpose of renewing our commitment to living as aliens in a country not our own?

Like I said, I’m torn. There was an unusual air of excitement this morning. Something was happening. We weren’t gathered simply to pay homage to a God who declines to send fire to ignite the sacrifice on the altar. There’s so much more substance to the worship of country than of God. The color guard was lined up on the platform stirring our hearts to patriotism. The sanctuary was much fuller than usual. The singing was more enthusiastic than usual. We finally found something that will bring people through the doors so that we can teach them to appreciate how special it is to worship God. By making the worship of God secondary in importance for just one morning. How could anyone be critical of something that gets people into the church who would not come for an ordinary service where all we’re doing is ordinary worship of the "immortal, invisible, God only wise, in light inaccessible hid from our eyes"?

How, indeed?

Politics

2006-06-26T11:11:00.000-04:00

Thus far, I have failed to introduce any thematic cohesiveness to this blog. Subjects have ranged from gardening to writing to religion. The overwhelming majority of out-of-town (off the search engines) visitors come by to read my front porches entry from last September. It doesn’t appear from the counter stats that they bother to wander around once they get here, just pop in for that one entry and leave. I’ve done a couple of follow-up posts but Yahoo is happy with the one from September and after a brief moment of fame as the #2 hit for a search for "front porches" on the MSN search engine, I'm no longer getting traffic from that direction. I guess I could make the entire blog about front porches in response to obvious interest among the general public but there are too many other interesting topics.

One subject I don’t think I’ve tried is politics. For the most part, I don’t get too excited about the subject. It took me a while after I was hired by the public library board to figure out that I work for a local government unit. My small salary is underwritten by the taxpayers of the township in which I reside. The library is governed by state law and I’ve become acquainted with such agencies as the Library Development Office which is part of the Indiana State Library, the State Board of Accounts, and the Department of Local Government Finance. I’ve been favorably impressed with the "bureaucrats" I’ve met in these agencies.

I’ve also become better acquainted with the state legislative process. I’ve discovered that the quest to impress the voting public often outstrips the grasp state politicians have of the true nature of the issues they address. It turns out that being a politician at the state level doesn’t require a degree in rocket science. (Not that such a degree would qualify one for governing.) Rather, it requires the ability to sound good and argue persuasively even when you don’t know what you’re talking about. This may sound cynical but I write it not in derision but simply as an observation. It's a skill I can admire from a distance but which I have little desire to learn.

This week I attended a town meeting. I’m not sure I really belonged there. I live one mile outside the city limits of the town I call home. I don’t vote for town officials. I don’t pay town taxes. I don’t have town services. However, the library is inside the city limits and the topic of discussion was the future of the town, a subject in which I have a stake both as a resident of the larger community and as the town librarian. So I went. I like meetings. I like people and there are almost always people at meetings. Plus, meetings tend to be held in those elusive, neutral "front porch" settings.

This particular meeting was on Thursday evening. Sometime over the past week or so, the three members of the town council met and ended up in conflict with the town park board. By the time the weekly local newspaper went to press on Tuesday afternoon, three of five park board members had resigned, as well as the entire seven-member board of the annual town fair to be held in less than two months, throwing the local political scene into chaos. I was a little leery of the Thursday meeting but headed out into a stormy night to catch the action firsthand rather than relying on the newspaper report.

The meeting itself didn’t strike me as being particularly tense, but I did notice a lack of professionalism and competency for the task at hand. I wasn’t sure the facilitators were collecting anything of value or that they’d know what to do with it if they did. However, I could be surprised. Perhaps there was more going on there than I observed.

The meeting was adjourned as another storm moved through the area and the rain was falling in sheets. I found no conversational opportunities in the building and moved out to the covered front porch to wait for a break in the rain. The group that followed me out the door didn’t appear to notice me as I edged towards the back of the porch. One attendee, the most offended in the blow-up with the town council, treated us all to a colorful report of the ongoing conflict. The contrast between his generally positive contribution to the meeting itself and his bitterly negative attitude on the porch startled me. I later heard a second-hand report from the other side of the conflict that only two of the attendees were truly interested in the meeting and the rest were there simply to agitate.

I take back all I’ve written about community groups being easier to work with than church groups. It may be generally true for community groups that aren’t caught up in politics but right now I’m deeply grateful that I don’t have to be involved in local politics beyond working with the library board, the seven members of which are appointed by five different elected bodies in the county.

I have seldom heard such bitterness and lack of Christian charity as I’ve heard this week. The conflict involves some of the most concerned citizens of this small, struggling town. It will be interesting to see how they manage to resolve their differences so that they can live and work together.

I think I’m glad for the one mile between my home and the city limits and the two miles to the town hall. It's nice to live outside the war zone.

God's church. My community.

2006-06-16T11:01:00.000-04:00

I hear a lot of sermons. The cumulative effect keeps me grounded within the Christian community but most of them pass over me with little impact on an individual basis. Each is one person’s attempt to interpret the message of the Bible and apply it to my life. It’s the time I spend actually reading the Bible with openness to being changed by it that has greater impact on my life, along with carefully-selected books.

Sermons, however, leave echoes in my mind. One of those ehoes has been reinforced multiple times: “It’s not your church; it’s God’s church.” This is used as a rebuke to those saying this or that about “my church” and is said by the same people who remind us, “It’s not about you.” The idea is to discourage power struggles in the church by lessening the sense of ownership.

I recently wrote something about my community and the echo popped up with a slight modification. Is it my community? I tried to think of how that phrase could denote an unhealthy sense of ownership. I couldn’t quite get there. Who could ever claim to own a community in the sense of having authority over it? A mayor? A police chief? Anyone less than a liege lord? Obviously, I’m none of those and I’m not claiming blanket authority when I refer to “my community”. Rather, I am identifying myself with the people living around me, primarily those in the local public school district. I have chosen to make my home among them and to be part of the common life they represent. It’s not simply the community in which my family lives as outsiders, keeping some separate identity. It’s part of who we are. It’s the community my husband and I have chosen to embrace as home for the past 27 years and for which we take some sense of responsibility, not because we own it but because it has taken us in and we owe it loyalty and generosity. It’s my community, and building it up by every means available to me is to my own benefit.

Those same sorts of things could be said about the local church of which I have been an active member for the entire 27 years I’ve been part of the local community. It’s “my church” in that I have chosen to identify myself with it and to take some measure of responsibility for its welfare. I owe it loyalty and generous support. I work to make it better. Building up the church is mutually beneficial to all involved.

When I talk about my community and look for ways to make it a better place to live, doors open wide with opportunities for me. I am the director of the only public library district within the school district. I represent the community on the county adult literacy council. I could do much more if I had more time. No one ever says to me, “It’s not your community. We don’t need your interference here.”

In contrast, if I mention “my church” and look for ways to make it a better center for Christian worship, the echoes pop up and remind me that it’s not my church. There are service opportunities there but no roles equivalent to those offered to me by the broader community. It’s God’s church and He hasn’t chosen me for His leadership team.

I’m finding that I’m slowly adjusting my viewpoint to accept this message that the church I attend and of which I am an official member is not my church. The challenges facing leadership are daunting and, if there is a way out of the wilderness in which we’re wandering, finding it will require significant wisdom and insight. I would gladly accept an invitation to be part of a team effort to find that elusive path. That invitation has not been issued, either formally or informally. My views are too radical by local standards to make me a good candidate for the leadership team of a rural, conservative, evangelical (dying) church.

Combining the message that it’s not my church with that lack of invitation to be a part of the leadership team leaves me with little choice other than to let it go and drop all sense of responsibility for the future of the church. It’s not my church. I’m not responsible for what happens there.

On the other hand, the church-of-which-I-am-an-active-member-but-which-is-not-mine is part of my community. One way to serve the community is to serve within the church as I am able and to share the good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ that is at the core of the church. I believe that the best thing I can do for my community is to take the good news from the church out of its stale, musty housing and offer it to those outside its walls. The church may be dying but the good news of reconciliation with the God of the universe through Jesus Christ and the resulting life of grace and peace is as fresh and welcome and vital in the 21st century as ever.

God’s church. My community. I think it’s time for me to leave the church in God’s hands and focus on the people who are willing to be part of my community.

Comments, anyone?

The influence of books

2006-06-04T23:57:00.000-04:00

The subject of this entry comes from two different stimuli: 1) A suggestion that for Memorial Day, we honor someone who has been a great blessing in our lives. (I’m slow in getting around to responding.) 2) A sermon series based on a book I’ve been through twice, once as a personal encounter ten or more years ago and once as a teacher.

I dug out the book behind the sermon series, thinking it would be of value to go through it again. There are eight chapters. As I scanned the titles of the chapters, I realized that the lessons in the book have already been incorporated into my life as much as they probably will be. They’re fairly good lessons. If I find the time and my shared internet connection is available enough I will listen to the sermons, but I think I’ve pretty much mined the book.

I mentioned in an earlier entry that I was surprised by how many of my current habits find their roots in Stephen Covey’s The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. I don’t know that I’ve incorporated enough to be even moderately effective, but that book has made a difference in my life.

Obviously, my life (and everyone else’s) is a conglomeration of influences. Most of those influences are people. Yet, I can’t point to any one person who has played a “larger than life” role. Each has their place in sculpting me into what I am today, chipping away here and there, changing who and what I am. Many have been a blessing to me. None that I can think of have stepped beyond their place and prompted a complete change in direction in my life.

In contrast to the people, I can point to several books that had immediate and lasting influence on my life. Perhaps the strongest entry in the field is, A Christian’s Secret to a Happy Life by Hannah Whitall Smith. It was an accidental meeting when I discovered that book. My first clue that it existed came from a Catherine Marshall book given to me by my sister-in-law. Marshall mentioned it in passing as an example of a book that had been of great value to a friend but which she found dull and lifeless. When I later found a little paperback edition on the shelves in the church office, I recognized the title and decided to see what it was about. It was the exact book that I needed at that time in my life. I invited it in and it took up residence in my heart. That was 20 years ago and its influence continues to this day.

There have been others along the way. My Utmost for His Highest, a classic daily devotional of the transcribed words of Oswald Chambers. Stephen Covey’s book. Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster. That was another accidental encounter. If I remember correctly, it was a delivery of kids to church camp that took me past a Christian bookstore. I stopped in to browse the shelves for a book I wanted to read but which I couldn’t even begin to describe to myself. I couldn’t figure out what I was searching for; I only knew that I wasn’t finding it. I left the store empty-handed. Back in town, I stopped past the church and chatted with my pastor for a few moments. I don’t know what I said but he said, “Here’s a book you need to read,” and handed me Richard Foster’s book. It was exactly what I had been seeking. Several habits of my moderately effective life trace back to that book rather than the Covey book. (Perhaps that pastor who shared his library with me counts as one of those “great blessing” people, simply by knowing what book to hand me and when.)

Maybe the difference between people and books is that I can go back to the books and find them unchanged. I can find within the pages the same message that spoke to my soul and prompted change in my living. I’m often surprised to find the headwaters of a stream I now take for granted in a forgotten book. In contrast, the people have all changed and my memory is unreliable. I don’t know which of my character traits trace back to a stray comment here or there by a teacher or friend or stranger.

I often feel like I’m an alien in my world. As someone told me not long ago, “You have a different way of looking at things.” It wasn’t meant as a positive description. Being different is often lonely. The recent additions to my list of influential books have been those that make me feel that there are others like me in other places. I discovered a label for myself in those books – a postmodern Christian. In my everyday world, that phrase is an oxymoron. One either has a postmodern worldview or a Christian worldview. The two are incompatible because postmodernity denies absolute truth and Christianity depends on absolute truth. How refreshing it has been to discover successful writers who are citizens of both those seemingly incompatible countries and who make a living expressing my core beliefs in written form and selling them. I didn’t even know they were mentionable, let alone marketable.

What a blessing the printing press has been to me.

Fiction

2006-05-21T16:35:00.000-04:00

I have recently read the latest entries in two multi-volume fiction series: Party Princess by Meg Cabot (from The Princess Diaries) and Miss Julia Takes a Stand by Ann B. Ross. They both arrived at the library in the same shipment and I did what I do only rarely and for only three or four series – snatched them up before anyone else got to them and spirited them home to read them. Thus, I felt strong pressure to get them read quickly and back to the library.

Reading those two books back-to-back was interesting. They are both written in first person. Mia, in The Princess Diaries, keeps a journal which then becomes the book. Time moves very slowly in these books, with each one covering little more than a week. (The girl must write at lightening speed to fill a book’s worth of journals in a week, writing down conversations as they occur and recording each day in detail along with her reflections on the events going on around her.) She is 15 and such a teenager, popping back and forth between major international social issues that are calling for her attention (being a princess and all) and minor personal social issues that manage to capture her full attention most of the time without effort.. I marvel at the ability of the author to portray Mia as so shallow and clueless and yet so earnest and likable. By book count, I probably read more children’s fiction than any other single genre of writing and these books stand out in my mind as exceptional writing. One thing I’ve enjoyed is how the author has woven the two movies based on her Princess Diary books into the story itself. (Mia was embarrassed by being dragged further into the spotlight and noted that the movies changed some of the details of her life.) The books are crammed so full of pop culture that they’ll require a dictionary of our time in order for future generations to appreciate them. They're unlikely to stay in print for any great length of time, but they’re a treat for today and I enjoy them.

Miss Julia is at the opposite end of life from Mia, in her “golden years” and newly widowed at the beginning of the series. In the books, she reports what’s happening in her life and shares her opinions and observations concerning those happenings. Again, I am impressed by how the author manages to portray her character as flawed yet attractive. In this most recent entry in the series, Miss Julia at one point worries that an action she might be forced to take would stir up the town gossips. She informs us that “gossip has been the bane of my existence”. As I read her words, I hear the exact tone of her voice because I’ve heard those words, or words like them, so many times. In the next paragraph she remembers that she has failed to update her husband (whom she married a couple of books ago) concerning marital trouble a couple they know is reportedly having and corrects that oversight. And again, I admire how the author leaves her character clueless while letting us in on the fact that Miss Julia enjoys gossip well enough when it concerns other people.

In both these series, everything the reader learns about the world being created by the author is seen through the eyes of the narrator/main character. Yet, we manage to learn things concerning these worlds to which the narrator remains oblivious; the narrator tells us things she herself does not know.

I presume that the words I write (and speak) sometimes say more than I intend them to say as people read between the lines and pick up on what I’m revealing but not saying. I presume that sometimes people get a chuckle at my expense when that happens because they find my cluelessness amusing. But I don’t know how someone can deliberately step into a personality whose foibles they recognize and intend to reveal to their readers and stay in character while revealing those foibles. If I were ever going to write fiction, I think this is the type of fiction I would want to write, but I can no more imagine being able to do it than I can imagine painting the Mona Lisa.

Writers of good fiction amaze me.

Blogging, Front Porches, and the Empty Nest

2006-05-07T22:04:00.000-04:00

This blog is averaging 13 visitors per day. Most of those are people wanting to read about “front porches”. I typed those words into the URL line of Internet Explorer today (where you are supposed to type actual web addresses) and was thrown into an MSN search that gave me 68,426 results. This post was at the top of the list. I find that amazing. Even more amazing is that a yahoo.com search yields 1,150,000 hits with that same post listed second. I’m not sure what everyone is wanting to know about front porches but many choose to follow the link, even though this is clearly a blog (being on blogspot and all). They don’t say anything while they’re here. They simply parade by silently without names or faces – day after day after day.

I don’t know enough about search engines to know if success increases success. Is it because people follow the link here when it’s on their list of results that it has moved so high on the list? Is it because someone else linked to it in their blog? Out of 45 entries here (46 with this one), only one is specifically about the role of front porches in our cultural history. Why does it attract so many visitors?

What prompted the front porch post was some reading I was doing and the change in life brought on by our empty nest (another popular search term). I was looking for places to meet people and to be able to discuss serious or not-so-serious topics in a public setting. I’m still finding that I have to be purposeful in getting out into the community in order to keep my world from shrinking now that I no longer have children in the local school. There are some people who were part of those school years whom I seldom if ever see now. (Yes, I could call them and make a date, but I would still miss those times when our paths simply crossed without special effort.) However, my search for “front porches” is going fairly well.

Last week, I decided I was going to “Grand March” out at the high school. I can’t imagine that this event has the same pull in many places that it does here. The school is small enough that every couple (and single) attending prom can be introduced and promenade across the high school gym (which through much effort has been transformed for the evening) in well less than an hour. I can’t think of any other school event that draws more people out other than graduation. Parents are there taking pictures. And grandparents. And aunts and uncles. And friends. (That’s where I fit in). This is a huge event!

I had another commitment that night. My husband was out of town and I couldn’t think of anyone else who would want to attend both events, so I headed out by myself to the first for a while and then slipped out early to return to the high school, arriving ten minutes or so before the start time but far too late to dream of getting a good seat. In the huge crowd (filling one side of the gym from the floor to the top of the balcony), I couldn’t spot anyone I knew with an empty seat close to them. As I surveyed the crowd, I was conscious of being surveyed and gave up rather quickly, climbing to the balcony and choosing a place close to a couple of acquaintances but not too close. After the event, I spoke to less than a dozen people out of the entire mob – the crowd was too tight to allow for mingling and the focus was, of course, on the prom-goers. That’s a rather poor return for investing an hour sitting alone in a crowd. Still, it was more people than I would have interacted with if I had sat at home. And the bigger return has come in the fodder for conversation it has given me with the prom-goers, parents, and grandparents I’ve seen since then.

Yesterday morning brought another “front porch” opportunity. It was opening day for the summer ball league. I was asked to attend a ceremony after the parade when a flag would be presented to the library by the American Legion. I arrived early and walked from where I parked by the ballfields across the park and a little ways up the parade route until I met up with the beginning of the parade and a group of people I knew with whom to watch it pass. It’s an interesting parade. Kids in bright t-shirts are sorted out by color (or possibly by team) and arranged on trailers, in truck beds, even in a horse-drawn wagon. They throw candy out to the crowd. However, there are hardly any kids along the route to collect the candy. The kids are all in the parade! What few non-participating kids come out to watch the parade end up with huge bags of candy.

Ah... life in the slow lane. Taking time to watch a parade of other people’s kids. Standing in front of the library (last-minute change of venue) and smiling for the camera as the flag is presented. Looking for my picture in this week’s newspaper to see if I smiled at the right time and how much damage the wind did to my hair. And chatting with this person and that one as they cross my path. It’s almost like leisurely swinging in the porch swing on the front porch I don’t have.

On Loneliness

2006-05-01T23:09:00.000-04:00

I should not live by myself. I don't live by myself...usually. However, my husband left on a business trip five days ago and I've been living alone for that long. That's how I know that a solitary life is not a good idea for me.

I've long enjoyed solitude. Right now the house is totally quiet except for the hum of the computer fan. I had music on earlier but tired of it and chose silence instead. I could turn the television on, but doing so has no appeal to me. I'm okay with silence. For a while. I don't need noise but I do need someone to talk to now and then.

Five days of solitary living. And coincidently, five evening trips to church events during that time - 32 miles each way. Every night. Just me and my minivan and the radio and my PDA/mp3 player and a set of "Adventures in Odyssey" tapes covering mostly the same roads five times for a total of 350 miles or so. (Various routes and a couple of detours to run errands added some extra miles.). I made half-hearted attempts to find traveling companions but didn't resort to begging. I figured there would be plenty of people to chat with once I got there. It turns out most everyone I knew had plenty of other people to chat with. If my goal was to find companionship, the results weren't wildly successful. Most of the event consisted of listening to sermons that left me full of unshared negative reactions and a certainty that pinning someone down long enough to share those reactions was not a good idea. Some of them burst out in my last post and follow-ups on a message board where patient people responded kindly. Listening to so many offensive words without responding in any way is difficult. I suppose I could have simply quit attending and stayed home alone instead but I was drawn back every evening by the hope of meaningful exchange.

I haven't sat alone in the house in between the evening events. I've been out. I have a part-time job that brings me into contact with people. But the loneliness is definitely getting to me. The house is quiet now but I heard the scratchings of a mouse one night. It showed up in the basement room where I was sitting at the computer. I talked to it, scolding it for coming into my house where I would be obliged to get a trap and some peanut butter and attempt to kill it. It didn't talk back, just disappeared behind some insulation. The outdoor dogs and cat aren't much good for conversation either. Nor the fish, although they do congregate in the part of the tank closest to me if I pause in their vicinity.

I have a telephone. I could call someone. But the people who are the most interesting partners for conversation aren't sitting at home waiting for me to call and fill their evening with chit-chat. Even when I'm lonely, I'm still no more inclined to make telephone calls than any other time. In fact, I find myself less and less inclined to do anything -- fix myself something to eat or tackle the many projects that I could undertake with all this uninterrupted time. So much opportunity and the best I can do is another boring blog entry about me, me, me.

I can survive living alone for a few days at a time, but the words I'm not speaking build up inside me and woe to anyone who offers me a listening ear. I tend to develop run-at-the-mouth tendencies when I have this much solitude.

My husband will be home tomorrow. That will be good. And in a few days the first college kid comes home for the summer. The empty nest will no longer be empty. Things are going to start happening around here. I may as well enjoy the silence tonight.

"It's not about you"

2006-04-28T12:45:00.000-04:00

[Note: I'm exposing my moorings in the evangelical subculture in this post. It was originally written as a post on a board within that subculture and is here because it grew into full-fledged ramblings. It's time for something new here anyway.]

I've decided that every time I hear the words "It's not about you" spoken in reference to worship styles, I will make a mental note that the speaker has chosen an extreme position. I know that there is often justification for moving to one extreme in order to provide a counterweight to those on the other extreme, but I still need to be aware that what I'm hearing needs some of that other extreme in order to get good balance.

If you take away all other voices, telling the church that church is "not about you" is exposed as ludicrous. The church of Jesus Christ is composed of his disciples. Those disciples meet together in order to worship as a community and to encourage each other in the faith. How can someone come in and tell those people that their meetings are not about them? Can you imagine encountering that statement in the writings of the apostle Paul?

"In him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spririt (Ephesians 2:22)"

"When you come together, everyone has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church. (1 Corinthians 14:26)"

"Oh, and by the way, it's not about you (???)"

The church is the fellowship of the disciples of Jesus Christ. We are the church. It's ALL about us! It's what we do. We gather as a community of believers. We worship together. We pray together. We encourage each other. We enjoy the warmth of fellowship. If we're structuring our meetings in a way that hinders those basic activities in the name of ministry to nonbelievers who may join us, something is wrong.

What prompts people to make statements such as "It's not about you"? A concern for evangelism. They want our meetings to be attractive to nonbelievers. They want our meetings to be evangelistic events rather than simply times of adoration and encouragement.

I have a theory that a church made up of people who enjoy depth in their worship and warmth in their fellowship will be naturally attractive to nonbelievers. The only missing ingredient is an open door to those nonbelievers. I think it's the open door that those who make the "not about you" statement are advocating.

So where does the balance lie? I suppose it would be nice if once we became Christians, we no longer needed nuture and encouragement. After all, we have the Bible and our devotional life to feed upon. Isn't God all we need? I know a song or two supporting that idea. But I don't see it supported by Scripture. Rather, the fellowship of believers is a central theme of the New Testament. We don't become instant givers when we become Christians. We move into a give-and-take relationship with other believers. At first, it's mostly take with little to give. Later, we give more and take less. But even the most mature Christian needs encouragement and nuture from the body of believers. They need the prayers of others. They need to be valued and listened to. I don't believe that there is anyone who can't benefit from a listening ear. We are all takers at various times in various relationships. Part of being a giving church is recognizing that there is no one who doesn't occasionally need to take a break from giving and become a taker for at least a few moments.

The "not about you" people discredit the needs of the believers in calling attention to the needs of the lost outside the doors. What they fail to see is that the best ministry doesn't discriminate between "lost" and "found" but embraces all as loved of God.

If we believe that every human soul longs to worship, then we have to believe that true worship is attractive to all. Thus, the goal of church gatherings should be to facilitate that level of worship. At which point, we discover that worship is about the worshippers and the Object of their worship, not the nonbelievers.

The "not about you" people fear that such an approach will take us back to the 1950s, to outmoded music and a vocabulary that makes the old people comfortable but has no attraction to anyone without a background in that era. I'm not so sure. I see a lot of boredom on the faces of those stuck in the 1950s in worship styles. They wouldn't be happy driving 1950s cars with no air conditioning or cruise control. I don't think they're really happy with 1950s worship either. They just don't want to be dragged into unfamiliar territory and left floundering while all the attention is focused on the "lost".

What would happen if we focused on facilitating true worship for everyone in the church, including "you"? It would take some listening and some giving. Is there a chance that people standing outside looking in might be attracted to a group that values everyone equally?

Motivation for biting

2006-04-19T00:20:00.000-04:00

A friend was speaking of a situation today and I noticed she was using the tone of voice she uses when I say something annoying. Except I was not the cause of the tone today. It was a whole group of people who had irritated her. Although I’m part of that group and was indeed among the offenders, it took more than me to trigger the tone of voice. As she laid out her view of the reason for this annoying behavior, I was struck by the box that she drew around our motivations for acting as we are acting. We lack commitment. We don’t want to get involved. Our priorities are not as they should be. She was trying to be kind in sharing her concerns with us, but could find no other way to characterize our lack of responsiveness. Thus, the awkward tone. It stemmed from discovering troublesome deficiencies in people who ought to be doing better and trying to address those deficiencies without offending anyone.

I’m reminded of a class I once took on "organizational behavior." The author of the textbook for the class pointed out that we tend to assess our own failures as being a response to outside forces, i.e. circumstances prevent us from doing what we ought to do. However, we tend to assess the deficiencies of others as stemming from inner forces, i.e. they could easily do the right thing if only they had the necessary motivation. This was a classic example of that mindset.

I’m in the group of noncommital people who are not stepping up to the plate to take a turn at bat. If my friend were to ask me why and genuinely invite me to share my thoughts on the subject, I would cite outside hindrances. I’d like to be more involved, but there are obstacles in my path. She’s not asking the question. In her mind, she already knows the answer. And that answer lies within me. Even if she asked and listened to my answer, she would discount the obstacles as much less significant than I’m making them. The bottom line is, I don’t care like I ought to care. If I did, I would pick up my bat and start swinging.

How do we break through impasses such as this?

In another situation, a person is being assessed as being involved in deliberate wrongdoing. I have heard the statement, "He knew what he was doing was wrong," over and over. Not only are those making that statement assigning faulty motivation but a deliberate choice of wrong over right. No quarter is being given. He did wrong and must pay for his deeds. There has even been talk of bringing in the law, or at least threatening to call the media.

Is what they are saying true? Not from the point of view of the accused. I’ve talked to him. He admits that he "screwed up" but truly believes he had the best motivations for what he did and was more right than wrong. I suspect that both the court of law and the media would find his version of what happened more compelling than that of those accusing him of wrongdoing.

I’m in the middle, standing between the mob with their pitchforks and torches and the ogre with his admirable goals but disgusting social habits. How do I persuade the mob to go back to their homes and businesses and give up exposing the onion-like ogre as a monster? This impasse has exposed a rather ugly side of several among the mob. I feel sort of like I did years ago when one child took another’s coloring book and refused to give it back per my instructions and the offended child took matter into his own hands, er, teeth, by biting the offender. I couldn’t decide which crime to address first and how to balance the punishment. It was a watershed moment in developing my skills as a parent. But in this case, I’m not the parent and these aren’t children. Sending them to separate rooms to play apart since they can’t play well together isn’t an option.

In discussing this situation with a team member, I observed that there is some "biting" happening on both sides in response to perceived wrongs. The response I received was that this should not be. Adults should act like adults and not stoop to returning evil for evil. Knowing that the person saying this was a minister, I asked about her beliefs concerning the innate depravity of our species. She seems to think we should suppress our depravity. I don’t disagree with her, but my observation is that our best approaches to suppression tend to develop leaks under pressure.

Are people basically self-centered? The doctrine of the depravity of man would certainly support that position. However, the tempering factor that saves human society is that self is generally best served by at least giving the appearance of being honest and upright and having good social skills. By doing good, we feel good about ourselves, like we’ve earned a right to live on this earth and to be treated decently by others.

My minister friend seems to think that mature people should be good for goodness sake rather than because it yields positive results. My annoyed friend seems to think that we aren’t even motivated enough to be good because of the built-in social benefits of goodness. Meanwhile, it seems to me that we’re all doing the best we can given the circumstances under which we’re living – whether for goodness sake or in response to social pressures is debatable. The crunch comes when the cost-to-benefit ratio of doing the right thing increases. How many will continue to do good when it doesn’t pay well even in intangible benefits?

I don’t know that I have any answers here, but after twelve days, it seemed like it was time to say something and this has been on my mind.