Freed from greed

Apple just announced the next generation of iPhone. With all the new features, I found myself in full blown lust mode. I WANTED IT. I NEEDED IT. I found myself teetering on the irrational side trying to find a way to get it.

And then I stopped. I am working on being content with where I am and what I have. Rob Bell, in his book "Sex God" says that freedom is living without all the things you want and being content with that. I agree with that statement. I am free when I am not driven by the greed of possession.

When I was in the throws of lust, the promise was that this item would make my life complete. If I put it in that way, I see the absurdity of that statement. OF COURSE THE IPHONE WILL NOT COMPLETE ME!  ( sorry for going all Jerry McGuire on you) If an iPhone is all it takes to complete me, then what does that say about my worth as an human being or a spiritual being?

I will be content in my nice and functional cell phone and accept that I am loved by God and in that I will be content...and free.

Replacing

Tick, tick, tick comes the rhythmic song of my walking shoes on the path. There is something loose and it makes a ticking or popping noise everytime the shoe flexes.

I don't hear it when my iPod is on, but in the silence the refrain comes through loud and clear.

I am heading to Mexico in a few weeks and my goal was to use them there. Instantly I thought, I must replace them.  My second thought was "why"? Why do I need new shoes. Just because there is a little flaw in the shoe, does that mean that I need a new pair?

I have been socialized to believe that if something doesn't work perfectly, it should be replaced.

... Why?

Paying for beauty

I went backpacking last weekend. We started after a deluge flooded the area we were walking in. The rivers were overflowing their banks, making lakes across the path and in some places, washing the path away. The power of water and the residue of the massive rainfall was spectacular. Little creeks were now raging rivers. The roar of the water was breathtaking. It created obstacles, but the overall effect was a fierce form of beauty.

The bugs were worse than I EVER have experienced before. They flew around my face, bounced between my face and my glasses, flying into my eyes. And then there were the bites. They were relentless. You couldn't stand still. My son built a fire and the choice as stand away from the smoke and be ravaged by the bugs, or stand in the smoke and tear up.

I started thinking about beauty and pain. There is a price exacted for viewing beauty, like an admission fee. Maybe the more we are willing to pay, the more beauty we are permitted to see. Remembering my friend, Nancy, her beauty radiated in proportion to the direness of her condition. I was able to see more of her beauty as I was willing to enter into the sadness of her loss.

Now a week and a half later I struggle to refrain from scratching my bites, I think back on the beauty I saw. Was it worth it? I think it was. I wouldn't have seen the beauty if it wasn't for the obstacles.

I see real beauty when I am willing to experience the pain that goes along with it.

Fragile

It is always sad to walk after a big storm. After the hail several weeks ago in my walk I was amazed and saddened by all the dead animals. Baby birds lie on the ground discarded from the nest. Small rodents sprawled along the path lying where they were hit by hail.

I am so fragile, but I don't feel it. I feel in control of myself. All the biological and psychological systems are working adequately and I am able to function reasonably well. I move through life with the confident belief that I am indestructible. 

Little bird carcasses remind me of forces that could tear me apart. It can come into my life from out of the blue, like hail.

Remembered!

 "Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for a child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on my hand. (Isaiah 49:15-16)

It is comforting to know that I am not forgotten, that God has written my name on his hand. For all the people in the world that God has not forgotten, he must have REALLY big hands!

Message from an earthworm

In my "everything is beautiful" mood I have found myself bending down (a movement that is getting harder as I get older) to pick up earthworms off the asphalt and toss them back into the dirt where they accomplish their job of turning earth. Truth be told, I play favorites. I don't do that for slugs. It is sad to see how many worms die on the asphalt when the moisture evaporates.

I found a rather large earthworm about halfway across the walking path. I bent over to pick it up. It twisted and writhed to escape my grasp. I made a few more attempts and then gave up. Who am I to deny a creature it's own destruction when it seems so bent on it.

The worm made me reflect on my own life and my own willingness to seek self destructive behaviors. I look at my eating patterns and see  my bent towards destruction. I look at my unwillingness to get adequate exercise and how it has hurt me. Like the worm I have twisted and writhed getting out of activities that could help me.

Hopefully I am changing, and unlike the earthworm, I am attempting to submit to forces that can move me out of destructive paths. 

Better to seek forgiveness

I have observed a man who lives by the motto "Better to seek forgiveness, than ask for permission." He uses this in all of his interactions with organizations and relationships. When he works with organizations he has had a little success. Where the tragedy occurs is in his relationships with people. He treats them the same. He bulldozes them and then attempts to apologize. It is so ineffective, because it makes those around him, who may have been hurt by him, more hurt and less willing to listen. 

And the coup-de-grace is when people turn away from him, he blames them for their struggle to forgive and move past it. 

Hearing God's voice

As I was walking and meditating on an encounter with someone with whom I have struggled, I believe I heard God say that it was time to seek healing. The rest of the walk was setting up a plan for achieving that healing.

I told my wife about the voice and my plan to enact healing. My wife promptly stated that she didn't think it was a good idea. With her words I became confused because I was sure I had heard God speak to me. I was frustrated by her response. We e-mailed back and forth and I told her that I wouldn't be a spiritual bully, and she told me that if God was speaking, she wouldn't stand in the way. 

I felt even more confused. How can God say contradictory information to different people? I decided to not act until I got more information. For a number of days, I didn't hear any voice telling me what to do. I became a little frustrated with God for his silence.

On my walk later on that week I told God so. I told him I thought it was unfair to tell people different things and create conflict where there didn't have to be any. There was silence for a while and then God, in a vision, took me to a room. In this room the person I was struggling with was on his face before God, as was I. God bent over the other person and said to him, "Stand, my child. Come with me"

Outraged, I stood and shouted "Aren't you aware of how this man has hurt me? You are going to usher this person in to your presence, knowing the pain that he has caused?!"

God gently turned his eyes to me. In a quiet voice he whispered "Are you unaware of how YOU have hurt me? What is this to you? I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion! You worry about your relationship with me, and I will worry about my relationship with you and the billions of others who are in relationship with me. Your words don't sound generous at all."

I started out the week looking for an avenue of healing another and my ability to be an instrument of that healing. God showed me that I was not ready for invoking healing on another, because I was listening with a self serving ear and not with the ears of God.

Speak and your servant will attempt to listen better. Thank you God for those around me that help define your voice more clearly than I am capable of hearing on my own.

An uncomfortable observation

I was taking my daughter up to a volleyball tournament. She had friends in the back seat with her. 

My car has a moonroof skylight that has shades that cover them when the sun is too hot. One of the girls started playing with it. My daughter said, "Don't play with that. If it snaps open my dad will get angry."

Later in the trip one of the girls didn't cap her drink. My daughter once again said "Put the cap on, if it spills, my dad will get mad."

As I listened, I became uncomfortable seeing myself through my daughter's eyes. I felt sad that she saw me as a person who uses anger to get his way.

I really don't like to think of myself that way, but my daughter's perception is her perception. That is how she sees me. I need to accept it and if I don't like it, find a way to change it.

Our luxury

My wife and I go to bagels on Sunday morning. It has become a ritual for us. Normally I get an omlet and cheese bagel. As I have increased my calorie consciousness I have started checking out the different calorie counts at places I frequent. 

I discovered that the bagel sandwich I normally ordered had close to 500 calories which takes a chunk out a 1500 calorie day. I thought about what I wanted to do about it. Do I just eat it and take the hit? Do I not eat anything there?

I decided to eat half of the bagel and throw the other half away. When I did throw it away, it felt so excessively American. I felt bad. I have the freedom of choice as to what I will do with excess food. Better for my diet. It doesn't help the starving. 

The trouble with food choices is that our portion sizes are SO out of whack! We want the best value for our meal, which translates into bigger portions. We aren't too concerned about calories. We feel ripped off if we get smaller portions. 

What is hard to consider is that some in the world are just hoping to be able to afford enough food to survive another day.

Throwing out the half a bagel or eating it wouldn't have changed the plight of the starving. But the tragedy is that the food I threw out could have fed a starving child, and that is haunting me! And sometimes it's good to be haunted if it leads to greater awareness and change.

Political Fast

In the past year the candidates have been vying for position  become the next president. I have stated in the past that I think that it is the best reality show out there. I find politics fascinating, every word parsed, every accusation thrown like malignant seed.

I am coming to a new reality. I believe I am focused on minutia that has no relevance to my life as I am living it right now. As a result of this thinking, I made a commitment to put myself on a fast, a political fast. I am committed to getting my news from sources I read, and not from the talking heads.

Since I started this fast about two weeks ago, my perspectives have shifted into more realistic ways. I still feel I get the main issues of the campaign, I just don't get them over, and over again. When I get to the end of the day I feel I've been more productive and I don't feel I wasted time. I have to say that I am better off, as well, without the calories that came with snacking in front of the TV.

What I believe is that whether I am consuming every word of the chatter out there, there will be a president voted in, after all is said and done...well, mainly said.

Over 50!

I passed a milestone today. With my Malibu, 14 gallon tank, I filled it up for $54.01! The cost has been wavering near $50.00, but it has been a couple of dollars shy. Today it happened!

What I'm thinking is... What are my options?

What I leave behind

As I move further into new perspectives, I can look back and see casualties from my faulty thinking. It hasn't just impacted me. I look at people who adopted some of my ideas and taken them further. 

I can change my thinking, but my actions have repercussions not only me, but others as well. While I may change, they may be caught in the thinking I am leaving behind and may be unwilling to change.

As a parent there have been times where I have been furious with the behavior of a child of mine, only to realize that they have been imitating me. It can be sobering for me to have to realize that the things that may be frustrating me from people in my life, may have been influenced by me.

Plowing time again

It is Spring...finally! Where we live farmers are breaking up the soil to receive the seed. As I have walked my path I have seen the soil. It looks angry and bruised. 

Change and new life involve turmoil. It is not an easy process. It is not a painless process. At times it is uncomfortable. But unless the soil is broken up, there is no new life.

Seeing with new eyes

This last week I have had an increasing sense of clarity in my thinking about my life, my spirituality, and the life around me. What is amazing to me is that while parts of the landscape looks pretty familiar, it has taken on a different appearance, as if there was a change in lighting, a change in vantage point. And the question that comes with this new thinking is, where have I been? Why am I seeing this now? It has been here all along, and yet it is like I am seeing this for the first time! There are ah ha moments, spikes of understanding, and the almost grasping, but just out of reach.

I guess I have been on a journey that didn't pull back the cover on this part of the walk of faith. I was busy learning how to be less selfish as a parent and giving to others. Not perfect, but growing. Now that many of the kids are gone, the activity is less and has given me more opportunity to think about where I have been and where I am going.

For years I have had a hazy idea of what I didn't think was working in my life. There were times I attended church simply because my children needed an example, even though in my heart, I didn't know if I could call myself a "christian" any more. I didn't want to rock their world until I could define the direction I was taking.

I no longer label myself a "christian". I want to be a follower of Jesus and I am working to realize that more in my life each day. It is a slow process, and I falter, but I am okay with not having all the details filled in yet. The mist has momentarily lifted and I see the next segment of the path. Through the fog, I can see new landmarks, new peaks to head towards.

I am becoming increasingly comfortable with the process of growth. It isn't that I am not uncomfortable in the growth process. I am.  It is hard to grow sometimes. It just doesn't scare me the way it used to.

Living with less

I was watching a program on the new technologies that are more eco-friendly. As an advocate was talking about the new technologies, he talked about an elderly person reducing to save energy costs. The advocate said "why should this person have to consume less. We have the technology to use less energy and still give the elderly person the same amount of comfort.

That is a big problem in our country. This is a big problem with me. I am addicted to consuming! One connection I have made is that my consumption has contributed to my excessive weight. I know that seems too much of a no-brainer to be an insight.  I am working on eating less and learning to be a little slower at satisfying my cravings.

One act that I did that haunts me was when I was in Haiti. I saw poverty all around me, however as I ate my three square meals, I ate a lot. I made sure I felt full. There was poverty and there was my stomach, and my stomach was the clear winner.

Children in our country were told to clean their plates with the injunction "Don't you know there are starving children in Africa?" I guess the message was, you had better be grateful, others are living with far less, and that could be you! The message was being grateful for what we had. The message was not about slaking the suffering of others. 

However, gratitude is meaningless without action. Maybe the message around our dinner tables should be Let's consume less and send more to others. 

The standard joke for me has been "clean your plate. Don't you know there are starving children in Africa?" Maybe that should change for me to "don't cook so much, there are starving children in Africa! Make sure you find ways to share with them."

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

I thank Greg Boyd for the metaphor.

I am warm and safe. I floats lazily around my protective cocoon. I have grown from a single cell to where I am today. Life has been somewhat predictable, and comfortable. I have adjusted.

Suddenly there is pressure! This safe world is starting to feel strangling. There are rhythms that are unfamiliar. There is a whooshing sound. The walls around me contract and I am forced into an uncomfortable position. Whoosh! I start to travel towards a small tunnel, that looks like it couldn't contain the size of my body. Whoosh! OH MY GOD! The pressure is increasing. My anxiety grows. Whoosh! Tighter, tighter, tighter! I can't breathe, I can't move! I feel like my body will implode. I wait for the end. This is death! My life is over. My life was far too short. The end is near! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! I AM DYING! DOESN'T ANYONE CARE!!!???

Release, blinding lights, prodding, prying, hands cupping. "Congratulations, it's a boy!

Tell me again, why am I so afraid of death?...WHOOSH!

Powerful learning

A behavior that I enjoyed doing when I walked in our neighborhood was to pull the fiberglass rod that marks fire hydrants, and then let it go. For some strange reason I like to watch the rod rock back and forth until it stops. I don't know why it brings me pleasure, it just does.

Walking on a beautiful day, I grabbed the rod with my bare hand, pulled it and let it go. As I watched it rock back and forth I started to become aware of fiberglass splinters on the inside of my hand. Throughout the walk I continued to attempt to de-splinter my palm, with very little success. It took about a week for the sensation to subside. I still have memory of the pain of those microscopic fibers embedded in my skin. 

Now, when I see those fiberglass rods sticking up out of the hydrant...I walk on by. I have learned.

Winter wonderland

This morning, the 26th of April, IT SNOWED AGAIN. I know we are paying for the years of mild, relatively snow free winters...BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

We were singing in the car today as we were driving to an engagement, "walking in a winter wonderland." Snow covered ground has been described as a world of wonder. Only now the statements are "I WONDER when this freaking snow is going to end!" "I WONDER if we will even have a spring this year!" "I WONDER if my sanity is still intact!"

Yea, right now I am OVERFLOWING with WONDER!

It's inviting!

I was listening to a speaker talk about the difference between the words invitation and opportunity. 

When we invite we are attempting to share the experience, if the other person is willing. If we are looking for opportunity it is for our benefit.

I'm not sure how to apply it, but I found that as I have reflected on the words, I want to be a person who seeks  and promotes invitation, not opportunity when it comes to my personal relationships.

Contentment with godliness

Thanks to Michael Spencer for his thoughts. Internet Monk Radio Podcast #85 he addressed the idea of contentment. 

I had talked in  my blog "Midlife transitions" about learning to live on less and desiring less "stuff. The verse I quoted was "a devout life does bring wealth, but its the rich simplicity of being yourself before God." 

I have always read that verse to mean my "stuff", to learn how not to want more "stuff". What I had not considered is that it can also refer to my relationship with God; where I am with God.

Contentment in my relationship with God is knowing I am approved of by God, and not "having" to be anything else or do anything else to win God's love and resting in that knowledge. Like any relationship there is a desire for closeness and intimacy. And that encourages me to move closer to love, in desire, not concerned about what others think. I can enjoy the dance step with God and feel the love and approval that he showers on me.

Contentment is not complacency. It is not quitting. There are things I need in my life. I need food. I might not need as much food as I eat. I need a place to live. A car is helpful to get me where I need to be.

I think back to the guilt I felt for not for not being what I was told God wanted me to be, or doing what my spiritual leaders demanded I do to achieve a "holy" life. Thoughts that I haven't been doing enough or being "godly" enough have hounded me for years. Stepping out of line in a congregation usually has people in the church pointing out my failures as well as the road back to congregational acceptance.

Contentment is lost when I think I need more external or superficial things to win favor from others, or from God. I desire him because I love him and I want more of him, not because I behave in a way that makes me look "more spiritual" to others. I can rest in his love, and learn to love him more. It is focused on my relationship with God, and not focused on those around me.

I love God because he first loved me. I am as loved as I will ever be from him, and in that I work hard to be content.

Movie tears

On monday we watched the movie "Nell" in Sociology class. Yesterday we watched the movie "Awakenings". In both those movies, I find myself tearing up. I feel the reservoir brimming on my eyelid. Then a new wave of emotion hits and gentle tears parade down my cheeks and nestle in my beard.

What moves me is the human spirit in it's most noble form. Courage, love, grief, loss, sacrifice. These themes grip me. 

One scene that moves me EVERY time I see "Awakenings" is when Leonard is regressing back to his catatonic state, he has tics that shudder through his body. He tells Paula, a woman he is in love with that he can't see her again. They are removing the drug which allows him to remain "conscious". He starts to walk away. Paula stands up, puts his one hand on her hip, and the other hand she holds as she slowly and deliberately starts dancing with him. As she performs this act of love for Leonard, he starts shaking less. I am so moved by that scene that I always have to wipe tears from my face. Click here to link to the video.   I yearn for the touch, the human contact that heals me. Many times that touch is infused with sorrow and loss. So I become teary-eyed, thinking about the loss in my own life.

Life is hard. I am moved by the compassion we show each other, whether it is on the screen or in real life.

It's all backwards

Today I was listening to a podcast from MPR's "Speaking of Faith". In this podcast Krista Tippett went to a L'Arche community in Iowa. L'Arche communities are places where people with mental disabilities can live in community with staff that help them. It was started by a man by the name of Jean Vanier. If you want to know more about the community or find the podcast click here. 

I was in tears as I listened to voices of people who loved in ordinary ways, but loved with the purity of a child, that many of us would find hard to do.

In the book "The world lit only by fire", the author stated that Magellan's father was great man, but not a great father. I have read that many times in the lives of other famous people. It made me wonder what it was about society that rewarded a person for things that would hurt those closest to them. 

Listening to the podcast the philosophy of L'Arche was backwards to the way we have been socialized. The hierarchy was that the "disabled" were the core residents and that the "abled" were their assistants. Vanier talked at length about what the residents could teach us, that he had learned so much from them. He stated that being human wasn't how much you knew, but how much you loved.

I am slowly starting to understand in the most basic ways what Jesus was saying. It is as if I haven't seen it until now, and even then only through a glass darkly. Jesus' life was a testament to the ideology that everything is backwards. What we think gets us ahead, most often puts us behind. And we only realize that if we are willing to stop and listen to the gentlest among us.

And then the lights went out

After a concert last night my boys and I were searching for anyplace that sold coffee. In our explorations, my front tire fell for a pothole, knocking the air out of it. After the loud bang, the car started moving more sluggishly and pulling to the right.

I parked under a light in a parking lot so we would be able to see the damage. Upon exiting the car we all confirmed that the tire was flat, so we set about attempting to put on the donut, the little tire that gets you to a service station. For the second time since I owned the car, the spare that I was given didn't fit the wheel specifications.

Fortunately we have a road service and within a short time a truck was galloping to our rescue. We were in a parking lot between two restaurants, one of them being Chucky Cheese. The Cheese was closed and there appeared to be clean-up going on in the store. Pretty soon all the lights were extinguished in the store, and a minute after that, all the lights in the parking lot were shut off, plunging us into darkness. 

There was a worry from my end that our rescue would be jeapordized. We sat in the dark.  Hopes faltered that we would not be seen. But like the cavalry, the tow truck barreled to our location, our hazard lights pointing the way.  The dark had swallowed us up, but had not triumphed.

I did get coffee, from the Denny's across the street. Not the way I planned but all in all, it was an adventure.

Looking for peace and harmony

As a requirement for my job I need to take classes from an e-learning program. At the end of the segment I print out a certificate of completion and have it placed in my employee file to prove I am in compliance. 

The course I chose was "The path to peace and harmony".  I started the course. I had a lot of other things to do that afternoon so I had allotted 45 minutes. It took me 1 hour and 30 minutes to complete. With people interrupting, it took closer to two hours. 

I could have just done the tests, but the creators of the test added a few words that they used their own highly specified definition so I couldn't get those right. The more accurate title they should have used for the e-learning was working effectively in groups. There was no yogi, there was no meditation. There was no search for inner oneness.

When I was done with the segment, I was angry. Everyone around me was laughing, claiming that the program didn't work, that I was the opposite of peaceful and harmonious.

Insight moments here. Maybe I get angry when I feel our time is controlled by others, and I don't feel I got value from the experience. Maybe I become angry when the meanings of the words are changed to keep me stuck. Maybe I just don't like the control of others, especially when I don't see value in it..

Does it mean the path to peace and harmony exists for me, when everything is going my way? I think that may be a correct assumption when you see me drive in traffic.

Midlife transition

I turned 53 several months ago. I have been in transition over the last few year. I used to call it midlife crisis. I don't think that describes it at all. I would refer to it now as transition. 

As I have reached this point in my life I am looking back and evaluating what I think has worked in my life and where I need change. Its much like a course correction.

The biggest thing for me to see is my own selfish needs at work. I have no trouble finding things I need or want. Some of them even cost a lot of money. 

A student who I haven't seen in about a year, entered the classroom last week and remarked when he saw my Apple 12" Powerbook, "I expected you to have the 'Mac Book Air' by now!" I have seen it and I want it. I responded back "I am learning to be content with what I have." 

This sounds like a noble statement, but I struggle with that very issue. Only a week ago I was attempting to see if I could get an iPhone. I probably would have purchased it if the one I wanted hadn't been $500. My need for more in insatiable.

I am in transition. There is a war going on inside of me that has been much fiercer in the past two or three years. I look at all I have as a resident of this country. I am wealthy beyond belief. And yet I "need" more.

The transition I am in is working to tame that beast inside of me. It isn't giving up without a fight, and even when it looks dead, its eyes will snap open at moments I least expect. And I don't fight it as hard as I need to, to defeat it. One could say I pull my punches.

Paul the apostle said it very well.  A devout life does bring wealth, but its the rich simplicity of being yourself before God. Since we entered the world penniless and will leave it penniless, if we have bread on the table and shoes on our feet, that's enough. I Tim. 6:6-8.

Way to do something!

Thursday was the last meeting of my sociology class. They surprised me by presenting me with a $50.00 gift certificate to buya.org, a web site that you can shop for specific needs around the world.  They ended class by looking at what they could do, and doing something. Just imagine what we could do if we continued to see what was needed and made a commitment to do something. My class did something.

I was shopping tonight, trying to decide if I get a goat, chickens, medical care, meals, and many other possible purchases. I ended up giving the $50.00 gift certificate to feed 200 children in Haiti.

It was tough. I think the hardest part for me is wondering what needs, out of all the needs, I should send the money to. In the end I just had to pick one.

A big thank you to my class. You all made my day! And because of you there will be some children who's day you made, as well.

Share the bear!

I was at Caribou coffee today with my daughter. We brought our computers. I was doing schoolwork and blogging, She was writing a confirmation paper. We placed our stuff on a table, just as two people got up from sitting at the fireplace. We "quacked", I'm sorry, I mean we claimed front row cushy leather seats facing the fire.

In between the chairs was a bear shaped footstool. My daughter was the first to cool her heels on the bear. There was no room for my "lil piggies". There was plenty of room for the two sets of shoes to find a resting place. It was so much better when we shared. 

I'm not sure we can measure if one person shared more than the other. If we look at shoe sizes my daughter probably was the more giving.

Living by faith

I was listening to a podcast while driving. I decided I needed some tunes to rev me up. I switched to shuffling through the rock genre selection.  It took a minute for "Brilliant Disguise" to rev up and blast through the speakers of my Malibu. It was soul-food.

I looked at my iPod with inquisitiveness. How had it done that so quickly? My emotions had been saved by my finger on my iPod. And other than knowing simple iPod maneuvers, I had had no idea how the machine had pulled it off.

My iPod isn't the only thing that I don't know how it works. There are many things in life that I don't know how if works. I don't know HTML so thank God I can go to a web site and type, which I know how to do, and the web page does the complicated work for me. How? I have no clue. I could go on. In each area there are people who know how things work, but I don't know and it looks very mysterious.

My faith works like that as well. I have gone from "knowing" what it means to be a Christian, to not being sure. As God has gotten "bigger", or rather, as my self has shrunk to a more realistic assessment, there is more and more that I don't understand. So...I live by faith. I work on practicing what I do know, and figure out the nuts and bolts as needed. And if I don't know everything, that is okay by me. I don't know that I have to, and more accurately, I am able to.

Point and say "Bluetooth"

In my lecture today we were covering psychological disorders, and specifically schizophrenia. When I talked about people talking to themselves and responding to stimuli that isn't there, one of my students brought up that it sounded a lot like customers at his store with bluetooth headsets. 

He stated that he saw many people in his store walking around who appear to be talking to themselves. And when they would get into arguments by themselves, it looked even worse. People yell into the air. When others looked at them with puzzled expressions, they simply point to their ear and say "bluetooth".

I got to thinking, what if we gave every delusional schizophrenic a bluetooth looking device. It wouldn't need to be operational, just pulse light in metered intervals. I wonder if schizophrenics would be viewed  and treated with greater understanding, and if they were treated with greater understanding, would they still behave so bizarrely? 

I suspect not, but it was intriguing to think about.

Boiling water

I was wondering what the temperature was for boiling water. I did what I normally do when I don't know an answer, I consult the internet.

I found this web page and am still unsure if it isn't a joke. But in an information age, I sure got information!

How to boil water! Check it out!

Pictures from the Haiti trip

Click here for the link to see the pictures that we took from Haiti.

Connecting at baggage claim

Sitting at the Miami airport on my way to Haiti, I was waiting to join up with the others in my party. I staked out a couple seats in baggage claim.

Two women were sitting next to me discussing past hurts that they had inflicted on each other. Their voices were elevated as they hurled insults at each other. From what I could tell it was a mother daughter duo. I thought it would end within ten or so minutes. 

It didn't. It was still going strong when I left my seat an hour later. The others in my party were incredulous at the intensity and ferocity that they were verbally attacking each other.

It reminded me that no matter where I think I got hurt in my life, I need to deal with it and let it go. What may have been hurtful for the two of them were inconsequential to the larger public. As an observer of their conversation it looked like the hurts had long ceased to be divisive and appeared to be a tool that they used to stay connected.

Unprepared

It's 6 degrees below zero! What is this woman thinking? She is walking across the street in a jean jacket, hunched over from the wind that cuts like a knife. She is a distance from businesses that could could shelter her. Instead she curls into herself while she waits for the light to change.

My kids over the years have attempted to go out into the larger world, less than prepared, believing that they were in no danger. 

I know we can't prepare for everything that life will throw our way, but this woman reminds me that I want to make sure I'm prepared for the things I AM aware of.

Faith like a child

At the mall the other day I saw a baby go by me in an infant seat. What struck me was that the seat was being held by two girls about 8 or 9 years old. They each had a hand on the handle and were walking on either side of the infant seat. As they passed me, the infant was sound asleep, completely unconcerned about the transportation arrangement. The infant's mother looked far more concerned.

Jesus said that unless we have faith like a child we can't enter into the kingdom of heaven. Here was faith of a child, asleep, completely unconcerned about its safety. 

As I have gotten older I focus more on security, wanting to know that I am safe. And yet, Jesus is telling us to rest in my environment and be more like that infant. I want to believe that I am in control of much of my life, but that is not the case. Just this month I have had several students face life-threatening illnesses that they never saw coming.

I guess I need to lay back in the cradle, and let go of the worry of the conditions of the ride.

Cantfinditis

It was my birthday last week. I got this birthday card from some friends. They identified a condition called "cantfinditis", that affects teenagers and husbands. As I have aged, I have gotten a more severe form of this condition known as "cantfrigginfinditis". 

The good news is that since I have lived with this condition most of my life, possibly due to undiagnosed ADHD,  I'm well positioned to overcome this debilitating condition as age assaults me.

Now if you would excuse me. I need to stop blogging at this time and look for my car keys.

Blood donor reject

I went to give blood today. I entered a bus that had been reconfigured into a blood drawing lab and station. I was shown to a tiny room with a desk where I was interviewed by a woman on the bus.

They drew blood from my finger, then while I was dabbing at the blood, proceeded to ask me questions about my sex life. The one that made me chuckle was if I have had sex with anyone in exchange for money, drugs or other favors, maybe because they didn't add "from anyone other than whom you are married to". I think the question perfectly targeted the whole notion of risky sex, at least from a viral standpoint...but I digress.

They got to the part about whether I had been out of the country. With Haiti a mere two weeks behind me, I answered yes. The interviewer typed it into the computer. The computer rejected me, and as a true coward, left the woman to actually tell me. The computer identified that I was not in the one safe place in all of Haiti, which is probably where the cruise ships dock.

While it didn't stop the interview, when it was over the woman told me to come back in a year.

I walked to the front of the bus, my head hung low...

Well, at least until I got off the bus and was able to stand up straight again.

The minds of old men

I was grocery shopping today. Upon entering the store there is a place with booths so you can order food from the deli and have a place to consume it.

As I passed by there was an old man with his eyes closed and his hand cradling his coffee cup. He wasn't moving.

I wondered, is he asleep, as the effort may have been strenuous and he was resting before going on. Or was he wandering the past in his mind? Was he following the paths of a much younger man when he was more vibrant, more alive.

Resting or dreaming? I don't know.

Where ever I go

Thanks to Neil deGrasse Tyson "Death by black home"

Where ever I go, there I am, and if I am all here, then I can't be all there!

Giggling in the men's room

One of the events that let me know that I was no longer in the United States was heading to the restroom at the airport in Haiti. In entering the men's room I had to step around the lady mopping the floor. Without missing a beat, I stepped up to the urinal and took care of business. While standing at the urinal, another cleaning woman stepped into the room, talked to the first woman in the Creole language and they both started laughing while leaning on their mop handles.

I am a man who I would consider is pretty confident in who I am as a male. But I must confess the laughter made me feel just a little self conscious. 

Poverty tourist

One of the places we visited while we were in Haiti was an orphanage. There were 25 children living there in standards that were above many of their peers in terms of food and shelter. The younger children were very excited to see us. The older kids looked wary. They were all very polite and well mannered. They all looked cared for.

What was hard for me was taking their pictures and having my picture taken with them. It's likely that these children have posed for many people coming through. My discomfort was potentially treating the children like props more than people.

I know it's important to have visuals when we share our experience back home so others can see what we are referring to. But I didn't get into the lives of these children at all. I don't know their stories. We just moved in, took the pictures, took the tour and moved on. I feel a real danger of becoming a poverty tourist. See the sights and head back to my comfortable life.

Got my goat

I turned 53 on Sunday. I was asked a number of times what I wanted for my birthday. I said I didn't want anything. Saying things like "pay off my mortgage" seemed a little too excessive. 

I was referred to a web site where you could purchase things for needy families in Haiti and other places around the world. I now know what I want for times when people want to buy me a present. 

My kids got me a goat. The goat is going to a needy family in Haiti. It's a win-win situation. I can give something of value to someone else and it can still be a present to me.

I love it. I got a goat for my birthday. Some family in Haiti will benefit from my turning a year older. I couldn't be more pleased.

The web site, if you are interested is www. buya.org.

Human Contact

Disembarking from our international flight to Haiti we moved to the National terminal to continue our journey from Port-au-Prince, to Les Cayes on the southwestern tip of Haiti. As we gazed out at the runway,  I got the first glimpse of the plane that was going to transport us there, and I wasn't excited. 

It didn't help climbing aboard the plane to be told to leave my seat in the rear and move to the front of the aircraft for ballast. It 

was unnerving to be so important to the safe operation of the aircraft. Our pilot was Jose, a veteran of the Nicaraguan Air Force, which was somewhat comforting as I was sure he had flown planes in less than stellar repair and had lived to tell about it.

I have never been a big fan of flying. I hate looking out windows of planes to see wings flapping like a bird. The propellers were so close to the body of the plane that if you stuck your hand out the window, (which you couldn't) parts of your hand would go missing.

Launching into the heavens was a little bouncy and I kept telling myself that the plane was designed to take the impacts. There was a beautiful Haitian woman sitting next to me. She kept to herself.

About 20 minutes into a 38 minute flight we were flying across some of the hills and the air got choppy. At one point the plane dropped like the roadway had ended. We hit the bottom without consequence. 

When the plane fell I felt a hand on my leg. The hand squeezed the fabric covering my thigh. About 3 seconds after grabbing my pants the woman next to me pulled her hand back and blushed. She pleaded an apology. We didn't speak for the rest of the flight.

When we feel we are in danger we reach out to others whether we know them or not. Most people would agree that the saddest experiences are suffering and dying all alone. There may be great comfort in the presence of others. Maybe it might be that if we are going down, it's nice to know we are taking someone with us.

Getting ready

He (Jesus) charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff-no bread, no bag, no money in their belts, but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. (Mark 6:8-9)

Jesus is sending out his disciples to cover more ground than he could do on his own. He tells them to take nothing with them.

I am packing for Haiti. I am thinking through every contingency that could occur. I go over lists. Phone, check, ipod, check, toothbrush, check, deodorant, check, enough shirts, pants, underwear, socks, check, check, check, check. And so on.

Seems a lot has changed since the disciples were sent on their mission trip.

Another thoughtful caring husband

I was at the Valentine's card isle when a man came over to the rack. He said in a hopeless voice how there were too many choices and the cards cost too much. He combed the rack until he found the cheap cards. 

"I know my wife would be angry if I spent a lot of money on a card. I like the sound of $1.99."

Really?

Just the way he handled the situation led me to believe Valentine's day at his house may very well be red hot, without the romance, or maybe it would be cool blue.

The man buying the card allowed us access to his inner thoughts, perhaps trying to win some sympathy. I didn't see any women huddled in the isle that looked sympathetically to his plight. What I think he needed is a group of guys staring at the cards. They would make good sympathizers.

But alas, today there was very little testosterone congregated at the card rack. If he wants less choices and more guys gathered around him in a sympathetic herding mentality, he needs to show up the morning of Valentine's day, when shopping turns desperate and the choices are narrowed immensely. And sometimes the markdowns start early. What wife wouldn't be appreciative of that?

"Snow" Dandruff

This morning it was 14 below freaking zero.  The wind was howling which dropped the temperature down from that as well. 

I am not always careful to make sure my hair is dry before encountering the elements. I went out to warm up the car. I retrieved the morning paper at the end of the drive.  The time it took to get the paper and get back in the car, my hair looked like a frozen Albert Einstein hairdo.  

I got the brush out and ran it through my stiff frozen locks. As I combed, a layer of frosty dandruff peppered my shoulders. This of course turned to droplets as the temperature warmed in the car.

I use a dandruff shampoo every day, but in checking the label, there is no ingredient that combats "snow" dandruff. I think the missing ingredient may be a touch of intelligence.

Stereotyping

At the restaurant there was a woman there who looked like the rock star Annie Lennox, frosty hair cut short,  a sophisticated buzz cut. She came in with her entourage, a husband, a three year old and an infant. The infant started crying and the husband, who didn't look like a rock star, went to get water for formula.

The child moved to wailing, its little tongue quivering with rage. Rock star mom worked steadily to mix the formula in the bottle while cradling the screamer. She didn't look frustrated or unfeeling. The infant received the nipple like the host and instantly quieted down. Mom and infant became the maternal pair. 

Rock star mom became just "mom" as she doted on her infant.  Cold demeanor gave way to loving and nurturing, and the relationship looked as familiar as any mother and child.

The mystery within

The other day I talked with someone who was struggling with an impulse that she felt she could not control. As she talked, there was confusion as to where those thoughts came from. We had to conclude that it was a mystery; something to be uncovered.

Life is a parade of paradox. I believe I know myself so well, and yet I am surprised when I butt up against mystery within myself. There are pockets inside me that when I attempt to open, I am filled with wonder and fear as I move toward understanding. 

And I am overcome by the mysteriousness of it all.

Heading for Haiti

Wednesday 2/13/08 I will be leaving for Haiti for six days. I will be going with three other people to a town called Les Cayes which is on the South West Peninsula of Haiti. We will be meeting with pastors and local leaders. We also will be touring an orphanage to understand the needs and how we can help.

Already the music club at my school has decided to raise some money for the orphanage. They are doing a fund raiser in March at the Cabooze in Minneapolis with the proceeds going to the orphanage.

Haiti is one of the poorest nations in the western hemisphere. Political instability and unrest have kept this nation in poverty. Prices of imports have increased the price of food in a country that depends on imports. One article about Haiti came out last week talking about poor Haitians eating dirt cookies to fight hunger pangs. The link to the article is  http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/5496676.html

I will be able to say more when I return. I am excited at the opportunity to be able to help. Stay tuned.

Ripples of despair

I was driving down the road and it hit me, what does any of what I am doing in my life matter? What game am I playing at? Life took on an air of immense futility. I felt a ripple of despair, it lingered for a moment, and then it passed. And I didn't hit anyone driving near me.

I am normally a pretty confident person. When those times of questioning come, it troubles me. I didn't use to ask that question of myself as much when I was younger. As I get older, these ripples comes more and more.

I have been told that if I keep a cell phone on all the time, I should turn the phone off for a minute every other day or so, to reset the service, identify the new towers and download any updates.

Maybe the lapses in confidence that I experienced may be resets as well. I can answer myself "Yes it does matter, so get back in the game because the team needs what you provide.

Pain perspective

Last week I got sick. It came on quickly and devistated me for a day, which was not bad. Several weeks ago I shoveled some heavy snow and tweaked my back. Shards of pain accompanied my movement for about two and a half weeks. 

Pain gives me the opportunity to wake me up to how fragile my life really is. I can believe that I am self sufficient. Being sick or hurt I experience my limitations and allows my perception to change. My existence starts revolving around my pain and attempts to avoid more pain. Life takes on whole new dimensions and I get a peek at how frail I really am. 

I speak only of the pain that comes and goes. Those who live in real pain on a daily basis, could speak volumes more about living with the limits of frailty, and how pain has forged new perspectives.

Jesus product

The smooth voice crones "get to know this Jesus, He wants to know you. Just dial 1-800-xxx-xxxx. Someone is standing by to answer your questions."

I was struck by the infomercial quality this radio spot took on. Jesus, it appears, has been reduced to a product.

Let fear be our guide

I got this e-mail from a friend. 

Isn't it Time for us to get a backbone as well? America Needs A Leader Like This!  Prime Minister John Howard - Australia  

Muslims who want to live under Islamic Sharia law were told on Wednesday to get out of Australia , as the government targeted radicals in a bid to head off potential terror attacks. 

Separately, Howard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday by saying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques. Quote: 'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.'   

'This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom'. 

'We speak mainly ENGLISH; not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society . Learn the language!' 

'Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.' 
'We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us.' 

'This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom, 
'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'.' 

'If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.' 

Maybe if we circulate this amongst ourselves, American citizens will find the backbone to start speaking and voicing the same truths. 
If you agree please SEND THIS ON.

My thoughts

• Many, who appreciate this rhetoric above, like the person who sent this to me, also lament the idea that America needs to get back to its "Christian" roots. It is hard to put Howard's words next to that bit in the Bible about "love your enemies and do good to those who hate you". The way I see it is that they seem polar opposites. So I wonder, who is moving the country away from its "Christian" roots?

• I guess gratitude is not felt towards the natives who lived here when the Europeans arrived. If they were welcomed in they took over. If they weren't welcomed, conflict ensued and the Europeans won. Over the years each group found its way to America and in doing so, found a home.

• It is so hard to look at ourselves and judge our own actions. It is so much easier to judge those we believe are out to do us harm.

• Fear divides people. Love unites. Perfect love casts out fear. We all want to feel safe. I can be as guilty as anyone to want to be protective. 
  

Fine! We'll do it your way!

When feel I am wronged, my temptation is sometimes to become bitter. Isn't that what the "fine, if that is what you want, I will make sure I do it" response is? Implicit in that remark is I will behave myself, but in payment for my compliance I get to resent you for forcing me to agree to this.

It seems that to walk in a way that honors God, I need to be honest and straightforward with what I am thinking. If I get into the "fine, we'll do it your way so I can hate you" response, I am not honoring to God, to the person I am in conflict with AND I do not honor myself.

If I do go down that road, it can be very treacherous to my soul.

Nostalgia

This weekend we have been working on a project that involves going through hundreds of photos from our past. It has been an eye-opening experience for me. I am seeing the world through much different eyes than the ones that look back at me from the photos. I am struck by the look of innocence and naiveté on my face. Pictures of friends and family who's stories have have turned out less than they had hoped for, are haunting.

Those days are gone. There is no ability to get them back. So we reflect and evaluate. We look at the roads we took as well as the roads we didn't. Reflected in those photos were both good and not so good. In photos, it's mostly the joyful happy times we photograph. I didn't see any cameras flashing at Nancy's funeral. But the sadness hides on the outer edges of the photos as we remember what was also taking place at those times.

Memory is a balancing act. I am tempted to think about what my life would have been if I had made other choices and I am inclined to feel sad. And yet when I look at the life my wife and I have built, I wouldn't trade any of it. Not one bit.

Looking through the pictures, I feel a sense of wonder and sadness. I believe that is what we call nostalgia. Nostalgia, that emotion that holds reverence and regret in tension at the same time.

Love sees value

I saw a news clip about the rescue of a little pup from a muddy cave. When the dog came out, it was licking the face of its rescuer. I wondered where it came from and if it was missed.

I think of our little pup. She has developed bonds within the family. She gets so excited when she sees us. Her joy is expressed vigorously in her tail.

Love makes sacrifices necessary for her to have a place in our home. Love says we will never forget her and that she matters in our lives.

Love sees the value in this little animal.

In a second

I had forgotten to mail a letter before I got to work. I turned around and drove to where I knew a post box was. I had a strange thought the it might be better to stay at work so I didn't get into an accident.

I moved out into an intersection as I saw a SUV approaching fast. I slowed down. The SUV did not. I was a seccond away from being t-boned. I stopped and watched the vehicle fly by me a mere 10 feet away.

I realized that a second sooner and I would have been further through the intersection and the outcome could have been much different. Every second in our life counts, and a second has the potential to dramatically alter our life forever.

Barking at a snowman

My pup went out to pee the other night and went to a side of the house she hasn't gone to much because of deep snow. She ran out of my line of sight and started barking furiously. As I rounded the corner, I saw what she was yapping at. It was a 5 foot high snowman. After a minute of the snowman not moving, she lost interest and focused on her business at hand.

My pup chooses barking when she comes across something that scares her. Being so small she is so much out of her element. She barks, but doesn't sound very frightening, more annoying.

I wonder what I look like when I become frightened?