Just a joke?

I read this joke on a widget I have on my computer. I found myself laughing, quite amused by the joke, delivered by Jay Leno.

Beijing skies are so polluted that Chinese authorities are planning emergency measures for the Olympics. For example, protesters will now only be run over with hybrid tanks.

I was going to print it up and put it on my door to share with others at work. I was going to put a picture of one of the dissidents standing in front of a row of tanks he was staring down along with the joke. As I was finding the picture of that in Google, other pictures of the dead bodies of dissidents who had paid for their protest with their life emerged as well. 

As I saw those pictures, the joke stopped being funny. I was sick to my stomach at the cruelty of a government that would run over demonstrators who were protesting the lack of freedom that others in other countries have. It felt like it cheapened the lives of those students.

There is nothing funny about repressive governments. I think Jay Leno was attempting to show that not much has changed in the Chinese government other than public relations. I think we do a disservice to the dissidents when we reduce the cost of their lives to a punch line.

When we make a joke of of this are we helping call attention to the plight of many in the world? Or are we creating humor out of horror, so we don't have to be so appalled by it?

Ain't I special...NOT

I was talking with a student in my office. While we were talking the lights flickered and then went out...in the hall. All the electrical equipment was still operational in my room! I looked out into the darkened corridor and I started feeling special, maybe even blessed. Here I was in the only office spared the indignity of a power outage. 

I stood up and went out into the hall. While the halls were dark, many other classrooms and offices were lit up. I started feeling the pain of let-down, that I wasn't THAT special. I found out that only half of the power in the building had been affected. I was forced to see myself more realistically. I may need therapy.

Being there

This weekend we had a party celebrating my wife's 50th birthday. Unbeknownst to her many of her good friends were invited. (A few were missed, because of her husband's poor attention to detail). As people kept showing up, my wife's jaw would drop and she would become a little teary, and she would express "Oh my goodness!" She stated at the end of the night that she had had a WONDERFUL time, and that it was so good to see all who were able to come over.

The internet has been a wonderful connection tool, but there is one thing it really can't do. It can't create presence. We can get stuff, but even the nicest stuff pales in comparison to relationship.

I think we only have a limited understanding of how powerful our presence is. Every person's presence for the party indicated that they were there sacrificially to celebrate the life of a person. They weren't there for gain or advantage. They were there simply to celebrate. And more than words, it was communicated by physically walking through the door. 

In showing up communication transcended words, which are so clumsy anyway.

The gift and the curse!

One thing I noticed in Mexico is, all a person had to do to gain some friends was drop a soccer ball on the ground. Before the second bounce it would be whisked away and chasing ensued. Boys and sometimes girls would kick and dribble the ball around with their feet. You could tell the ones that worked on moves. They had skills.

Games were played in the convention center, at a local stadium, or anywhere there were people, a soccer ball and a little room. What amazed me is that a stray ball would land in a pile or a project. Items would go flying everywhere, but no one seemed really bothered by it. They just threw the ball back where a foot stopped it and redirected down the field toward the other team's delineated goal. Middle aged men with sizable guts on them, their shirts sweat-soaked ran like 15 year olds.

I commented to someone that it seems like soccer naturally brings people together. I got an odd look from him and he proceeded to share with me, the dark side of the sport. He talked about assassinations that occurred for errors in the game, and the fierce rivalry that surrounded the game.

I guess it brings people together and then as the competition heats up, makes enemies of people. It may be said that there is no friendly game of soccer after a certain amount of playing time has elapsed. It's rivalry.

Home is where the stove is

We stayed at a convention center for the week we were in Valle Hermosa. It was a bare floor and a lot of leaks when it rained. There were no cooking facilities so adaptation was critical. The most important need was a stove and oven.

And what stove was brought? The stove right out of the missionary's house. It was a kitchen stove they bought from Ikea in Dallas a year and a half before. A propane tank was hooked up to it and it served up the grub, just like at home. 

Not quite the portability of the camp stoves that many use camping in our northern climes, but when you have more time than money, willing manpower, and some ingenuity, anything is possible. 

And where there is willingness to be flexible, love and memories to share, it can feel just like home.

The wonder of southern lights

One thing I have longed for in my life is a chance to see the Northern Lights. I have looked with wonder at the pictures of the phenomenon.  Hopefully one day I will be able to see them.

But I did see a phenomenon that occurred the last day of kids camp. And I will never forget it.

The last night of kids camp in Mexico any child who wanted to sleep over could. At the final total we had over 100 children from age 6 to 17. There was a program for the parents who showed up with bedrolls for their child's sleep-over experience. After the program the parents left the auditorium, and the kids lost their interest in the movie that was showing for them. Kicking soccer balls and chasing each other was far more fascinating.

At a certain point the Mexican leaders started the process of getting the children to lay down and go to sleep. Of course only a small handful were complying. One of the leaders was walking around with a bullhorn and requesting that the children start settling down. It was about as effective as starting a fire with a single match in a thunderstorm.

One of the leaders came over and asked us to shut off all the lights so the children could go to bed. We used the "bad idea" argument, but to no avail. We went upstairs and within seconds the entire auditorium was plunged into darkness. From that moment and continuing on for about five minutes was almost deafening shrieking from the children.  It was hard to tell if they were having fun or overcome with terror.

The megaphone continued to bleat out bedtime instructions. We were standing on the balcony peering through the darkness to shapeless forms below.The request came up that we should crack open the glow sticks that we brought with us for the camp children. The rationale was that this would allow the children to have a night-light for falling asleep.

We gave our best "really bad idea" speech, but it went unheeded. We just pushed back our EBT (estimated bed time) from 1:30AM to 3AM.

In the pitch black I could see a blue glow, then orange. Yellow popped up and red arrived. The glowing started magnifying and growing. More colors filled the black void below us. Some of the colors sped across

 the room, others flew through the expanse, to lie still for a minute and then move again. Everywhere below colors moved in random patterns. It tool my breath away. The beauty of the colors, knowing that they each represented a child was stunning.

The scene lasted for about 40 minutes. I stood on the balcony enrapt with wonder at the sight below me.

When the leadership realized that the children were not going to sleep, some one walked around the main floor, collecting them in a shopping bag that leaked glowing light through the plastic.

Soon afterwards it became increasingly quiet and children nestled in their blankets. Many dropped off to sleep. I stood there for a long time, savoring the sight I had just witnessed. The pictures taken of the experience only caught a miniscule fraction of the wonder.

If we had had our way in not allowing the glow sticks, wonder would not have erupted in that place leaving a trail of enraptured witnesses. Color would not have come alive.

Overripe

Yesterday I was going to throw some overripe bananas out. My wife told me to stop, that she was going to make banana bread. I was grateful that they could be used.

When we were in Mexico banana bread was brought as a treat for the Mexican leadership. They were gobbled it down, until someone showed them some of the overripe bananas they had to make the next batch. As soon as the Mexicans saw the bananas, they spit out their mouthfuls of banana bread and tried to trick some unsuspecting Mexicans who didn't know what it was made of to try it. If someone "bit", so to speak, the others would point out with glee the overripe bananas, and they in turn would spit it out.

Several days later, I was invited to eat "barbacoa", which is a meat made out of beef cheek and tongue. They ate it with relish. when I described it to some on the team, there were a few who looked a little disgusted.

It is all what we have been sensitized by our culture to  comprehend what we should put in our mouth and what we shouldn't.

Self portrait

On the last day of camp in Mexico we had to draw a likeness of ourself and place it on a large board that held other children's likeness as well.

I think the one I did looks a lot like me. What do you think?

Mattress competition

I was on the stage of the convention center talking to someone. I heard the sound of cheering and looked up to the area we were sleeping in and saw people running, jumping on the floor and standing up further down the way.

In investigating the phenomenon it turned out that someone had donated their mattress to the cause and they were seeing who could slide the furthest. Of course they had markers (flip-flops) for the farthest male slide and female slide. Even some of the older adults and Mexican leaders got in the action. There were some super-competitors who would not let the activity go, until they had traveled the farthest.

One example in many where we think a crazy thought, perform it and then use it as a measuring tool for determining rank and status among our peers.

Unthinkingly like Jesus

Wednesday night at dinner I took my plate back for seconds, unaware that the cooks had just enough food to go around once. As I showed up at the cooking area, Jovita, one of the ladies who have served us, in Mexico, through the ministry of cooking, looked up, saw me coming, and deftly flicked the beans from her plate back into the pot that had cooked the beans. I attempted to say that I didn’t need a second helping, but seeing as how English doesn’t go so far when the other only speaks Spanish, she smiled at me and spooned that last of the beans onto my plate.

I was moved by her testimony of selflessness without even thinking about it. It was embedded into the nature of her service.

God whispers His nature to us through others and if you don’t pay attention, you could miss hearing his voice altogether.

The little things

One of the adventures of Mexico is eating the food and drinking the water. On different days various members of our team would be out of commission with gastro-intestinal issues. The bathrooms which may have been a little disgusting now was the only room one wanted to be in.

It is amazing to me that things that you can't even see can hurt you so badly. As the team members went down, others were analyzing the possible causes.  It was never really known, but one theory was that in pouring ice into the drinking coolers, some of the condensation from the outside of the ice bag poured in as well, contaminating the rest of the water. At other times the outside of the bag was so dirty they sprayed it off from the water hose, and that could have leaked into the water.

Overall, there were many ways the critters could be ingested. It just is, once you had it, even though you couldn't see it, you knew it. 

And you had strong motivation to purge yourself of it.

If they aren't asking...

One thing that I am struggling to learn is a simple concept. "If they aren't asking, they don't want to know.

After my many years as a therapist, I find that I struggle with not attempting to fix what someone else doesn't want fixed or doesn't see a need to fix. As a therapist I was paid, either by the client to confront their reluctance, or confronting a client as a representative of a third party payer. 

I can be prepared to answer questions, but if they aren't asking, it is a pretty clear directive that they don't want to know. It has been a struggle, but I find it freeing when I rest in that statement.

Jesus the super-hero

In our country Jesus is looked at by many as a personal assistant. He may be considered a personal savior, a personal get out of jail free card, a personal financial advisor and personal health care advisor. 

In Valle Hermosa Jesus appeared to be a super-hero tough enough to kick the devil's butt. In the expression of the people we were with in Mexico, Jesus protected them from bullies. We watched through mime how the devil was creeping around to destroy people. When the Jesus figure showed up, he would push the devil away from the person he was delivering. If it got physical, the Jesus actor would get physical back and push the devil around When the devil got pushed around, the audience would cheer and applaud, almost like Jesus had made a move in the WWF.

I think what we see in Jesus is what we think we need help with.

Love is in the coloring

At the camp in Mexico one of the activities we did with the children was snacks. On the second day there was a girl in attendance named "Jama". She had been interacting with the other children just fine. As soon as snack was over, plates were collected and coloring pages an crayons were distributed to the snack tables. 

The children all grabbed for the bowls with the crayons and started working on their sheet. "Jama" attempted to take some color crayons as well but the bowl was pulled away from her. She sat back in her seat and refused to take any crayons. Her eyes became incredibly sad and you could see her spirit leaking out of her, leaving her body deflated.

I tried to get her to take some crayons. She refused. She didn't look angry or spiteful. She looked sad and wounded. It looked like things being pulled away from her was a common occurrence and it was easier for her not to want.

I sat down next to her and started coloring her picture. It took her a minute before she picked up a crayon and started coloring another part of the picture. We completed the picture together. While she colored, you could see her spirit rise and her sadness evaporate. By the time the picture was completed, an energetic glow emanated from her. Later in the day, before she left the camp, she came running up to me and hugged my neck.

Sometimes love has to make the first move to affirm a hurting heart. Sometimes love picks up a crayon and starts to color the picture, until another feels encouraged enough to join in.

5 years and counting!

Today is a great day. It was five years ago that my wife discovered the lump that changed our lives. Today at her oncology physical she was officially declared a 5 year survivor. That is so good to hear.  She was also told that she doesn't have to come back for a year. 

My wife turns 50 this month and it is not a time of dread about getting older. It is a time to celebrate! Each day is a day to celebrate!

Truth in advertising

The last day of kids camp, we ran out of food halfway through feeding everyone in attendance. The churches provided sandwiches for the children who attended the camp, their parents, and the staff that had been working with the kids. There were a few of the staff people who hadn't eaten. We were told that the kitchen staff had gone out and purchased 60 hamburgers that would be arriving shortly. After many days of different food, that sounded appetizing. The bags arrived in medium brown bags with grease stains on the outside. I have to admit I was excited.

I asked for one and I got a hamburger wrapped in paper. I unwrapped it and looked at it. It had a large bun, with lettuce, mayonnaise, ... and a medium width slice of ham. I did a double take. No juices flowing down my chin, no ground beef to chomp into. Ham.  After my initial let down, it tasted fairly good. They were not kidding. It was a hamburger.

But I have to say I am worried. The night before, we went out for hot dogs.

Sounds the same in any language

Friday night in Mexico we attended a "youth rally" put on by a local church. They had a kickin' band that got the crowds moving. I looked around and noticed that "youth" was a relative word. There were a few youths there,but there were also a lot of older people. 

A quasi-"mime" troop get up and performed a drama where the Devil was trying to get a soul. When Jesus kicks the Devil's butt, the Devil ran out of the auditorium screaming, clipping my left side as he ran by. I have to say it was a little unnerving to almost being run over by the Devil.

A pastor got up and started preaching. He started slow, reasonable, but then he started to pick it up. He went softer and softer, and just when you were straining to hear him he started shouting and wagging his finger at the crowd.

I couldn't understand a word of what he was preaching as it was all in Spanish. But I have sat under preachers like him. The intent of his message crystal clear.

What puzzles me is the belief of these preachers, that the louder one shouts, the greater the impact for God. What I have found through that style of preaching is that it creates "emotions junkies", jonesing for another hit of Jesus passion. It creates an addictive pattern of needing to recreate the feeling one had at the service where the pastor was screaming. 

The cycle consists of an unsustainable Jesus high, followed by a drop in fervor over the next few days, moving to a failure to live up to the high standards set for following Jesus, which then leads to shame, guilt, and fear and a desperate need to get another fix from the screaming pastor. And the pastor seems more than willing to supply it. 

I guess it's nice to be needed.

One hot mike!

The women who were going to lead the singing and dancing at the opening part of the kids camp were waiting around for the sound system to get up and running. One of the men gave her the microphone and another switched the power on. The woman holding the microphone squealed and threw it to the floor. Another person attempted to pick it up. He dropped it as well. He looked around and found an extra shirt lying around and wrapped the mike in it.

She tenuously took the mike from the man's hand and went ahead with the program. At one point she held the mike too close to her lips, her head shot back with a squeal. She kept hold of the mike and the dance step, not missing a beat.

After it was over two men went to look at the system to figure out what was happening. One of the men laid his hands on a part of the sound board, uttered a cry and fell on his back, hands trembling in the air like a drunk with the DTs.

In examining the problem, what was revealed was that they had no grounding of the system. Anytime they attempted to use a component of the sound system they got shocked.

Adding a ground to the wiring solved the problem and we made it through the rest of the week without even one electrocution.

Getting back from Mexico

I'm back. It has been a week of not being able to access my normal communication tools. It is glorious and strange being back. Life was so different where we stayed.

We worked in Valle Hermosa, a town just south of the Texas border not far from Harlingen, Texas. Our job was to assist the local Mexican churches there as they put on a kids camp. The original estimate was 600 kids. We ended up with a little over two hundred which was far more manageable for our staff to handle.

Our group consisted of 17 people who represented Salem Covenant Church in New Brighton. Some in high school, some just out of high school and a few "older" adults.

The trip was amazing. The people there were poor by American standards, and didn't have the amenities we have back here in Minnesota. The area is covered with a fine Mexican dust, that turns to stubborn tightfisted mud in the rain showers. The water and some of the food can make you sick.

But the love, the joy, the graciousness of the Mexican community we served with was overwhelming. Their giving and loving made the hardships inconsequential. It was infectious like a holy disease. All you could do is submit to it, or walk away.

They are not perfect people. Far from it. But the love and the joy expressed covered a lot of imperfections.

I am back at work now. I feel caught between two worlds. There is a sense of a larger picture, an expanding group of friends, and love growing in more than one location. I learned a lot during this trip and the blogs to be forthcoming hopefully will reflect some of the things I learned from this trip.

Missing just one thing

I have been reading a book called "Infidel" by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. In one of the chapters she talked about how the clerics kept people in line by placing the fear of going to hell in them. It was amazingly similar to some of my experiences in the evangelical church.

I have known people who are consumed with passionately making sure that people are "saved" from hell. They make a big show of being concerned about the eternal welfare of others. Their lives are devoted to it.

A definition of Hell that I agree with is "anyplace" that is seperated from God, or devoid of God, and consequently devoid of love.

It has been my observation that those who people I described above are ones that are living in hell. They torture themselves and others. They don't appear loving. They are motivated by fear. They feel fear and they pass it on to others.  You can smell it in them and you can see it in the faces of others around them. Love is not in them.

There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love.

Things I don't understand 2

I don't understand why we are so willing to share our joys with others, but we keep our sadness and pain to ourselves, while we suffer alone. It may be because we are afraid to face who are really our friends.

The people we hide

I was joking around with the waiter the way I always had. We poked good natured fun at each other. Then something triggered inside him and he started talking about the difficulties that he had faced in the last few years.

He talked about the pain that he felt and the goodness of people in his life. I'm not sure I understand why he chose this time to speak his mind. Perhaps he felt safe enough to talk. 

It was a great reminder that everyone has a story. In our fun, we can easily cross lines and injure people. Or we can be a healing presence to others. We have no idea the impact we have on another or the story they are hiding.

My lying heart!

I saw a bumper sticker that read "I love Jesus, it's his followers I can't stand." The charge is that they are hypocrites, not living up to the words of Jesus.

I was at a church that would be considered "emergent". The setting was very different than most "churches". When participants were given the opportunity to speak, one woman got up and requested prayer for all the churches that were so judgmental.

In following Jesus, ideology, or any other teacher, I listen to the teachings. From the teachings I interpret. If I am unsure, I lean on those around me of who I perceived as of like mind. I have a sincere desire to get things right. Once there is revelation or interpretation, I tend to incorporate that into my life. Then I attempt to make sure those around me “get it right” as well.

But my heart lies to me! I want to believe in my own sincerity in my thoughts and intentions. I am a good man on a good course. I believe I am following the tenets of the ideology. A sense of pride, a sense of “I see the light” settles in and I believe I am on the path to the promised land!

As an example, I have been looking for practical ways to reduce my impact on our environment. I have worked hard to get my home garbage output down, as well as making sure what ends up in the land fill biodegrades as much as possible.

Just the other day I needed to obtain a stool sample of my dog from a deposit in the front yard. I was looking for a plastic spoon so I wouldn't soil one of my stainless spoons. The visual of using a spoon that had canine fecal matter on it at one time was not a image I relish recalling. I found a box plastic forks. Since I needed a spoon I put the box back. A recycling symbol caught my eye on the corner of the box. It encouraged recycling the box. Obviously not the forks! The package touted using less plastic in their product. I shook my head at their pitiable gesture. I reasoned that their packaging would disintegrate in the landfill far before their product would, and wasn't that pathetic!

I found a plastic spoon and took it out in the front yard where I retrieved a stool sample, put it in a disposable plastic Ziploc sandwich bag and sealed it up to take it to the vet clinic. After my self-righteous mental rant, it dawned on me that I might be a "green" hypocrite. I certainly wasn't doing any better than that company I was judging so harshly. I WAS judging their intentions much more severely than I was my own. I was creating plastic non-biodegradable waste for my own convenience.

Words of wisdom for all of us hypocrites out there… you know who you are! 'Fess up.

"Don't pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It's easy to see a smudge on your neighbor's face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, 'Let me wash your face for you,' when your own face is distorted by contempt? It's this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor

Challenges and more challenges

Don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

Here is the short blog. 

There a lot of things that happened this weekend that we didn't predict. I can spend time worrying about life, but it is the unpredicted events that can throw us off kilter. It may be a blessing that we don't see these things coming, because I think we would be much more tempted to check out on life. The admonition to not worry about the future makes sense, because it keeps us from getting paralyzed today, instead of celebrating it.

The long blog if you care to read it.

We were going up to watch our son run in Grandma's marathon. I was going to drop my wife off and pick her up at work on our way out of town. She ends up at a different location where she needs her car. She also doesn't feel well. One of my other sons who is joining us, isn't getting off work until "sometime between 4 and 5PM". I take the dog out in the early afternoon and her stool is an odd color, and she is throwing up the water she has just ingested. I am concerned and take a stool sample to our vet. The vet clinic said there were no parasites, but the color of the stool is concerning and that the dog should be checked out because it could be life threatening. They say I can't bring her in to the vet because it so close to the end of their day. I need to bring the dog in to the Emergency vet ho$pital. The dog continues to produce scary looking stools but presents with happy-go-lucky dogface.

Deep breath!

My wife is feeling better we decide to go for it. We reserved a room in Moose Lake that night. We get a call asking if we could bring my son's fiancé's sister up. We say yes, as long as the dog's exam isn't serious. My wife gets home, we pack up the car, drive down, pick up my son, head to the vet clinic where we are told that the dog looks okay, but keep an eye on her. We call fiancé's sister to say we are heading north so we have a seat in our car if she still wants it. She does. The phone rings. My wife's mother has taken a bad fall and is at the hospital. We put together contingencies, but my wife's sister was in town and is graciously willing to stay at the hospital. We were still heading north.We meet in a Cub parking lot and fiancé's sister gets in. The good thing is because it is so late in the afternoon the out-of-town traffic was pretty light. Delivered fiancé's sister where she needs to be and head back to hotel. All goes well checking in. Dog produced another icky stool but seems perky and energetic.

Deep breath!

The next day starts pretty normally. The dog seems to have new life and is ready for life's adventures de-jour. Sis-in-law calls to say there is no surgery scheduled for my mother-in-law.  We find our party at mile marker 19 of Grandma's marathon. Traffic is lighter than expected. We watch a person go by and cheer for him, before realizing that that was not our son! Oops! Our son bounds by shortly after. We make no mistake this time. The dog hasn't eaten anything for 20 hours and is wanting to explore and challenge everything. The end of the marathon, my son did an outstanding 3:59:11 minutes on the marathon. We all celebrate, my son limps around. We go out to eat. Call comes in that mother-in-law is still not in surgery and she hasn't eaten all day. We head back home with the idea of dropping my wife off at her parent's home and she borrow a car. I drop her off, drop my son off, go to the vet hospital where I am told the dog looks like she is doing okay. Dog and I head home.

Cleansing breath!

At the end of the weekend it was good. We were able to affirm our love for our son by being spectators for a challenging task of his. There were challenges to overcome, and we overcame them and had a good weekend. I think knowing what would have to take place we might have been sorely tempted to just stay home... but I'm glad we didn't.

Things I don't understand 1

I don't understand why, if we are supposed to present a professional image at work and asked to wear a certain type of clothing, why is it that if management wants to treat you they offer to let you wear less professional looking clothes.

What happened to the image they wanted to uphold?

Random acts of bananas

For the last class period in my Interpersonal Relations class, students can bring in food to share. I came upon the brilliant idea to bring in bunches of bananas. They are good for you, already prepared and neatly wrapped for individual consumption.

I over-estimated the amount that would be consumed so I had quite a few left over. I decided to personally randomly distribute them among my co-workers. I decided not to give anyone an explanation, but just offer them.

There were many looks of confusion about why I was passing out bananas and why I was offering it to them. Most of them took a banana and thanked me.

The lack of explanation caused a level of suspicion but I think there was an acceptance of the gift on the quality of my character. They may have realized that I wouldn't intentionally hurt them. But you could see them attempting to understand what had just gone on.

Very few asked me why I was giving them out, but I think that all enjoyed the banana.

One of my co-workers blogged about being on the other side of the random act. I thought it would be fun to link that blog to this.

What to do when a co-worker offers you a banana.

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.