Two things I don't understand

Just this week I attended the funeral of a friend, one who died at a young age leaving her husband and three children.  Now you might think that this is one of the things I don’t understand, but I do.  What I understand is that GOD appoints a time for each of us, we are part of HIS master plan and though we might not understand why GOD does or allows certain things into our life, I understand that GOD is over all.  Whenever a believer dies (this person was a believer) I am reminded of the scriptures we are given concerning what awaits those who “fall asleep” and those scriptures concerning those who will be alive at Christ’s return.  Of being “absent from the body is present with the LORD.”  Of the corruptible putting on incorruption and being transformed.  This brings me to what I don’t understand.

How can a person walk through this life without hope of a life beyond?  How can someone find hope in simply living and then simply not living?  As odd as this may sound, I am encouraged in the midst of sorrow at the death of a believer in Christ.  Psalm 116 tells us that the death of a saint is precious in the sight of the LORD, meaning that GOD values our lives, takes notice of our deaths and Jesus tells us in the Gospel of John that he goes to prepare a place for us.  I find that at funerals that I sorrow not so much for my loss, but for those who have yet to find the hope of eternity.

Please don’t take me wrong; I am not being disrespectful of other beliefs.  I appreciate the fact that others seek GOD through a variety of channels and am (in politically correct terms) tolerant of other beliefs and faiths.  What I am saying is that I have a problem understanding how when offered a future prospect such as Jesus gives, it can be turned down?  I have come to appreciate some of the finer points of other faiths, such as the discipline that often accompanies a person’s faith that can be so absent from mine. But, I still struggle with only having hope in myself or thinking that this is all there is and when I die I return to the dust from whence I came.

This kind of brings me to the next thing I don’t understand.  What do people do when they have no one to turn to beyond humans?  I have been to points of despair varying times in my life and the only thing that has kept me from total despair was my faith in Christ.  Once again the scripture of “…those who have no hope” comes to mind.  What do people do without the hope of GOD loving, caring, supporting, encouraging and intervening when all earthly hope is gone?

As is obvious from this writing, I am un-apologetically Christian in my beliefs.  Scripture and experiences have shaped my worldview.  We have all been shaped by experiences in our lives; some experiences have left us without hope and adrift while others of us may have been left hardened toward the GOD of the Bible, having been given a picture of a judgmental tyrant through the actions and words of others.  Maybe I do understand how people can walk around without the hope I have, but it still weighs on me.

Life can be so discouraging, especially in these days of economic woe, famine and sickness.  It seems like every morning I hear of another situation of despair.  I’m certain that down through the ages each generation had moments of despair.  In just the last century there were many wars, depressions, natural disasters and maniacal people.  Horrendous incidents of death and destruction, During which people thought that surely Jesus would be returning or the end of the world was at hand.  I am someone who looks at world situations and wonders if we are indeed hurdling toward “the end times” but does not get caught up in “hype.”  I instead look at situations in the world and am grateful that I have a hope beyond my sight.

I guess I better understand the scripture that talks about men’s hearts failing them during the last days.  Without hope of a better life beyond, without hope of a loving, heavenly father who will not forsake his children, without the hope of things ultimately getting better, I too would ask that the mountains fall on me.  Maybe I understand more than I think I do and in that understanding compelled to pray for those who are hardened, set adrift; who do not have a blessed hope to cling to.

As always, this is my opinion and along with $2.50 might get you a coffee.  But more importantly, if you don’t have this hope please spend some time contemplating my words.  Talk is cheap, sin is costly but the gift of eternal life is free through Jesus.

Combating the Drive-thru mentality

I have come to understand why people will see the glass half empty versus half full.  I also firmly believe that technology is wonderful, when it works.  Beyond that it is frustrating at best, infuriating usually. At one time, many years ago I owned a coffee mug that showed a duck with a sledgehammer poised to strike a computer.  The saying under the picture was “strike any key.”  I admit I have often felt that way as the years have passed and technology invaded my simple world.  I have tried for a long time to look at the positive side of things.  Being radically thankful, but it is very difficult to maintain a positive attitude at all times.  I have come to think that there is something to be said for looking at life expecting the worse, hoping for the best.  If I expect the worse to happen, then I will not be disappointed when it does and will be pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t.  If I expect people to not respond in a timely fashion, then I am pleasantly surprised when they do.  If I expect technology to not work, then I will be pleasantly surprised when it does. 

I have been heavily influenced by the “drive thru, microwave” mentality that permeates our society and there in (I think) lies the problem.  I expect my computer to work instantly, I expect people to respond within a short amount of time (under 15 minutes.)  In writing this I realize how unrealistic my expectations are.  Although I don’t wear a watch, I am driven by time; pushing myself to do things quicker and faster and expecting others to do the same.  What would happen if I were to slow down and move in a decisive yet moderate pace?  What would happen if I just allowed things to “flow” and not seek to push?  That would be a foreign concept for this American to accept- other side of the earth foreign to me! 

Some of my best friends have recently returned to South Africa.  I remember when I visited them a number of years ago being struck with the African way, which means (my interpretation:) things will happen when they happen; a meeting will start when people arrive and end when it is done.  Granted, I live in America and work in an American company that runs by American standards and culture.  I cannot simply allow something with a deadline to go past stating, “it will happen when it happens.”  I can’t schedule a meeting, telling the invitees that the meeting will start when it starts and ends when we’re done. But what I can do is challenge my stress and frustration over things I cannot change (oh, I’m hearing the serenity prayer.)  Seriously, being able to let go of things I cannot change and putting everything into perspective is what I’m talking about.  Like I said earlier, I don’t wear a watch anymore, which is from my experience in Africa.  The other change that I am challenged with and committed to is relationships, the value of each human.  So now I am faced with implementing the “it will happen when it happens” attitude.  How do I do that while living in America?  I don’t have the answer to that question; it will be something I ponder for awhile.  It is the subject of another blog, I fear, but while struggling I would welcome any suggestions or comments.  And, as always…this and $2.50 will get you something, maybe a cup of Roobios Tea.

* roobios tea = sub-saharan tea from the red bush.

The life and meaning of a pen

A few years ago in a flight of fancy I came up with this; hope you enjoy...

            I am a pen.  I have many purposes in life and perform many functions.  However, my purpose in life is determined by others, my destiny is not my own.  My primary function is to write.  I am used to sign documents, write out checks, leave love notes and good-byes.

            When I sit beside a guest book my purpose it to leave lasting memories for families to read.  Notes that are both sorrowful and sympathetic (such as at a funeral) or notes of congratulations and encouragement in life (such as at a wedding.)  I am an instrument of communication. 

            Down through the ages I have had many different looks and styles.  I have been a feather, cut at the end and dipped in a bottle of ink.  I have been made of wood, reeds and other such items that are conducive to conducting ink to paper.  I am ballpoint, fine or medium in width.  I am felt-tipped, calligraphy, gel, click, large barreled and small.  But whatever I am, I know that I am a pen, an instrument of communication.

            When I sit for long periods of time without being used, my ink dries.  I become useless until friction or fire melts my ink, causing it to flow freely again, my life’s blood spilling from my artery onto the paper, defining my life as a pen, an instrument of communication.

            Please do not perceive that I have feelings, I do not sense loneliness when I am not used or you chose another pen over me.  No, I wait silently in a penholder or on a table, beside a journal or guest book.  Time does not pass for me, I am not jealous of another’s shiny exterior or rotund barrel that is easier to hold.  I do not lust for the life of a pencil, for my entries are permanent.  When I write on the pages of life, I am not easily erased, I am bold, confident even when smudged, for I AM A PEN, an instrument of communication.

            Computers have taken away some of my function.  But computers cannot leave entries in guest books, cannot sign checks at the bank, do not have personal touch of a handwritten card or note.  I have lain in the hand of maestros as they write concertos and symphonies.  Granted the work was begun by a pencil, but completed by me, a pen an instrument of communication.

            I wrote the scriptures in many languages before Guttenberg was born.  I brought permanence to the dreams of Leonardo and wrote the musings of Dante and Poe.  I scribed the hieroglyphics in the caves of early man and flown into space.  I have traveled the seas, charted the stars and down through the ages been used to solidify the fluidity of time and history.  Technology was drawn and recorded by me, a pen an instrument of communication.  Technology that would seek to replace me cannot for I am a pen an instrument of communication.

            If you sense any jealousy, it is not in me for all of my feelings come from the one that charts my destiny, defines my purpose, gives me life.  For I wait silently in a penholder or on a table beside a journal, for I am a pen, simply a pen an instrument of communication.

My "Little Comforts"

I have just made a cup of tea, Christmas Chai to be exact.  As I was lifting the tea bag out of the cup, snuffing up the wonderful aromas of the spices I thought, “this is one of my little comforts.”  As I poured honey on the spoon and dipped it into the steaming liquid, I began to reflect on “my little comforts.”  It is at moments like this that I realize that it does not take a lot to comfort me although I realize the opposite is also true, often times it is the “little things” that make me uncomfortable.

As is obvious from my disappearance from this blog for over two months, I have been preoccupied with the little discomforts of winter in Maine.  Being cold, damp, worried about oil, shoveling what seems like endless amounts of snow and driving on less than optimal road conditions have sapped my creative energy like my furnace drains the oil tank.  I would like to reach a point in my life and attitude that this is not true; that I would look to my little comforts and take advantage of the peace God has provided me in them.

Oh Father God caretaker of the storehouses of snow, let me see the beauty in your creation and trust that you take care of me in the midst of the winter!

Back to my little comforts, I enjoy a good cup of tea in the evening.  I like reading a good book while sitting under a warm blanket or in the sun.  I am comforted by my cat on my lap or feeling the warmth of my dog lying at the foot of my bed or the feel of fleece against my skin and the weight of a wool sweater.  For me it is easy to forget these little comforts in the summer, I don’t need as much comforting I guess.  The smell of the ocean, sound of waves and the whistle of a lighthouse that is summer comfort.  A cup of coffee beside a campfire by a body of water and the sound of nature at play; I find joy in those.

I have written in the past about my “romance of the seasons.”  Although I have not shared it in the blog, they exist on my computer.  What I have just come to realize is that in fall and winter, I seek to be comforted; in spring and summer I seek joy.  Maybe these two words mean the same in this instance, I honestly do not know.  But whatever the truth may be I want to remember to indulge in the simple, little comforts and joys and not race through my life, wishing the cold snowy days away in preference to warm sunny ones.  I will confess, I have not been radically thankful over the past two months.  It has been difficult to bring that attitude forth.  I know that in here in Maine I have at least another 4-6 weeks to work on this and if I don’t get it right that’s fine the opportunity will present it self again in about 8 months.

I plan to share some of my earlier writings over the next few weeks.  Please let me know what you think.  I hope that this blog may become a “little comfort” for you. 

Christmas Connection

It’s the Christmas season once again; lighted trees, little lights on houses, wreaths and presents.  People shopping, many people shopping; crowded stores and parking lots, snow and cold, yes, it is Christmas time.  Every year I promise myself that next year I am going to shop earlier so I can enjoy the season more and every year I end up waiting until the end of November to begin.  But this is not what is on my mind right now, I am thinking of Palm Sunday and Good Friday.  There is a much longer story that has been on my mind for many years and has yet to come to fruition.  I’ll not tell it here, but give a glimpse into my thoughts.

I have often wondered what happened to the shepherds.  They beheld God Incarnate in a lowly stable.  They were told of Messiah’s birth by angels in the sky, not just one angel but a heavenly host, an orchestra of angels singing in the sky around them, surrounded by a bright light.  Scripture tells us they were “afraid” and that they ran to find the child, this was a life altering experience.  I have often wondered if 33 years later, one or more of the shepherds were in Jerusalem when Jesus rode into the city on a donkey; were part of the crowd shouting hosanna and whether they were there on the day those same angels stood in silence and wept with the Father as they gazed on Calvary.  I don’t look at this as a “downer” by any stretch of the imagination for I go on to wonder if any of those shepherds recognized the child of the manger, those many years later and became follower’s of Jesus after the resurrection.  I have difficulty picturing them as part of the crowd that called for His death while with Pilate.  Only because, if they had recognized him and put two and two together how could they call for the death of the one they had been told was the Messiah on that cold winter night.  But, humans are fickle with short memories; I guess it is possible that given the price some have to pay for living, they may have allowed bitterness to cloud their memory of that marvelous night.

Under my Christmas tree I place a nativity scene, a crèche that reminds me that my greatest gift at Christmas is the Child of the Manger, destined to be the Sacrificial Lamb.  May the light of the star guide you throughout the year from the manger, to the cross, to the empty tomb where the gift of the Father, was fully unwrapped.

Radically Thankful

I was doing my dishes tonight, murmuring about having so many dishes to do.  I don’t like doing dishes, don’t know many people who do, but it is a necessary task in keeping the house clean.  It was during this unpleasant task that a thought struck me; I want to be “Radically Thankful.” 

The holiday season of Thanksgiving and Christmas typically bring out thoughts of thankfulness and well being toward others, but I want to be more thankful and throughout the year, not just during the holiday season.  I want to be dramatically changed in my thinking and actions by becoming “Radically Thankful.”  So what does this mean?  What will it look like in my life?

The most obvious change needs to be in how I think about unpleasant tasks and people, finding the truth of why I need to be thankful.  Doing dishes for example,  I can grumble about how many dishes have to be done, how the water is too hot OR I can be thankful that I have food to cook and eat, dishes to eat off of, silverware to eat with, pots and pans to cook in, a furnace that heats the water and oil to fuel the furnace.  But this is not radical enough for me, for me it needs to go deeper in order to transform.  I want to be thankful for those things that would be perceived as “my right” to grumble about, sitting in traffic, waiting in a check out line, being cut-off by another driver or shopper, being totally inconvenienced by someone else.  I’m not advocating giving up my rights; laying down as a doormat to others, no, not at all!  We all have to have good boundaries and take care of ourselves in order to be healthy.  But what I am saying is that I choose to not ruminate beyond the moment, forgive and change my attitude.  Here is my commitment, my resolution prior to New Year’s:

For each inconvenience and unpleasant experience I choose to find something to be radically thankful for.

1.      Stuck in traffic…I own a car and have a place to go

2.      Stuck in a check out line…I have money to buy things with and live in a country that offers items for me to buy.

3.      Inconvenienced by others…I am healthy enough to be around others, I am not isolated.

4.      My car or house needs a repair…at least I have a car and a place to live.

5.      Not enough money…I am thankful for what I do have, mindful there are plenty with none.

6.      Too hot or too cold…I am alive to experience temperature changes and live in a part of the country that has a change of season.

7.      I am bored…my life is without drama or crisis.

This list could go on ad infinitum; it will grow as my attitude changes.  As I look toward Thanksgiving, I am deeply thankful for my family, my job, home, pets and car.  I am thankful for my friends and acquaintances along with others that I meet, never getting their names.  I believe that this change of attitude will get me more than $2.50 will buy.  Happy Thanksgiving everyone, may your holiday be blessed, thank you for reading.

My Refrigerator Door

I was placing a photo of one of my “adopted” nephews on my refrigerator door, when I began to think about what that door said about me.  I often find myself staring at other people’s refrigerators, looking at the pictures, the magnets and pieces of paper, gaining an impression of who they are and what is important to them and have come to the conclusion that it is one of the most intimate places within a home for it truly portrays what is important to our being.  It has often been said, “We are what we eat,” I would propose that what we hang on the outside of the frig is as significant to our life as what we eat from the inside of the frig.

On three sides of my frig are hung pictures of my best friends, newspaper articles about my family, postcards that have been sent from far away places and magnets representing places and things that I love.  There are flyers from festivals I’ve attended; restaurants menus, handwritten recipes, a to do list and heating oil receipts clipped together that flap from the door when I open it.  It is a mish-mash of stuff that looks chaotic but it is representative of who I am in this world.

I have seen some doors that are neatly arranged and orderly with pictures, no flapping papers or a wild array of magnets.  Others have hand drawn pictures from young children displayed in prominence either taped on the corners or held in place by magnets.  My mother keeps a calendar on the side of her frig that she writes appointments on.  As I have said, my refrigerator is covered on three sides with a variety of overlapping pictures, papers and such.  I believe this is also indicative of who I am.  I like my life integrated, everything over lapping, my closet friends know each other and they all know my family.  My life tends to be an “open book” and my refrigerator door will attest to that.  Most people would not like my door, it is not tidy but neither is my life but I love my mish-mashed, taped and magnetized life hung together on one big metal box…inside and out I am fed as a person, body, soul and spirit.  When I am feeling insignificant and small all I have to do is glance at my refrigerator and I am reminded of what is important.  I have the faces of those who love me regardless, a family I can be proud of and heating oil receipts that affirm I own my home.  The magnets and post cards remind me that there is a big world out there for me to explore and enjoy (even if it is from my armchair,) the menus, recipes and festival flyers tell me that I have and will continue to have fun; and the To Do list emphasizes I have purpose.

What does the outside of your refrigerator tell about you?  What truths would be revealed about what is important in your life?  It is easy to walk past this appliance and not perceive the significance hung on the door.  I encourage you to take a moment and reflect on the love and life that stares back at you.  But as always, this and $2.50 will get you something yummy, maybe even from the freezer!