Suspicion vs. Faith

The phone on my desk started ringing. The readout said Mitchell Publishing. I answered, suspecting that it was a solicitation call from someone who would try to sell me textbooks or an assessment product. When the caller stumbled over his words and asked how I was doing, I said with irritation “Is this a solicitation phone call?” “No!” he said. “I’m calling about my son.” I gave him the information he needed and then he asked, “Why did you think this was a solicitation call?” I explained that I had jumped to that conclusion based on the caller ID. He laughed, I laughed, and we said goodbye.

Later I thought about how quickly I had become suspicious and drawn the wrong conclusion. Was I crossing the line from healthy skepticism to unhealthy skepticism? My knee-jerk reaction had been to distrust the intention of the caller. After all, we do live in a world where all claims cannot be believed and we are inundated by stories – some true and some false – of scams, fraud and deceitful behavior. I could see how I was being conditioned to expect the worst.

I want regain a trustful approach to the world! I was raised in a family with an optimistic mindset and I am an optimist still, but I realize how my optimism can be undermined over time, worn away by repeated exposure to blatant lies, willful ignorance, fear-mongering, and a steady stream of sensationalized information that passes for news.

Taking positive action is one way to build up my reserves of optimism. So is prayer, reading scripture, and worshiping with a community of positively-oriented people. Being selective of what media streams I tune into is another way, and supporting local journalism is yet another way to resist the narrative that says that the sky is falling in. Reaching out to friends, going for a walk outdoors, cooking something from scratch – all are good ways to claim and proclaim God’s abundant goodness in our world.

Lord, give me faith that conquers distrust. Thank you for your light that casts out darkness. Amen.

Rules

As I poured myself a bowl of granola this morning I smiled in anticipation of how good it would taste and how much I like to eat it. Yet even as I finished pouring I thought to myself, “I shouldn’t eat this today. I should save this granola for a morning when I’m on the run. It’s the weekend and I have enough time to make oatmeal.” Then I caught myself. “Granola can be eaten only during the week and when I’m in a hurry? Says who?!”

Recently my son and I watched The Maze Runner, a movie about boys who have no choice but to make their own society. “Those are the rules,” Thomas, a newcomer, is told by the other boys when he wants to challenge the status quo and do something different. There is no awareness by the boys saying “those are the rules” that they made the rules and they can change the rules. The fear of change, of destabilizing the current set-up, keeps the rules in place, even when a change could help their situation.

I know that I have plenty of rules that run my life, rules made by me or made by others and internalized by me; some helpful (“look both ways before crossing the street”), some not. There are plenty of rules in the Bible, some helpful in our present day (“pray without ceasing”, “love your neighbor as yourself”), some not. Jesus was a big questioner of authority and he upset the status quo by holding people to the spirit of the law rather than the letter of the law. Next time I hear myself saying “I should (or should not) do this-or-that” I will try to stop and ask by whose authority the rule was made and whether I need to follow it in this case. Rules of the road? A good idea to follow them! Rules that are habits, put in place because “we always do it this way”? Maybe it will be time to shake things up, toss out those rules, and feel the freedom from judgment that Christ’s example provides.

Lord, help me to focus on the spirit of your law rather than the letter of my rules. Help me to give up the “shoulds” and “should nots” that limit me in artificial ways. Amen.

Reminders All Around

“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’ And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” Mark 1:9-12.

[Note: I wrote this post in August, then forgot about it in the swirl of the start of the school year. It resurfaced recently and I thought it appropriate for the beginning of Lent, when we remember Jesus’s journey in the wilderness. Jesus was accompanied by the Holy Spirit and so are we as we face our wilderness in its many shapes and sizes.]

While driving my son to college – his first year, my first kid – I passed beneath a road marked Watson Road. One of my best friend’s last name is Watson so seeing it made me smile, and then I teared up as I thought of all the friends and family I have in my life. This has been a teary time in my life as I’ve prepared to send Conor off to college, saying farewell to the younger part of his life and this part of my life as his parent. I’ve commiserated with friends who have taken their kids to college, and who I’ve encouraged as they’ve faced this milestone. I know I will be fine and he will be fine, and that this is what we’ve been planning for and working toward for years. Still, or maybe because of all that, it is an emotional time, and I have gotten weepy at reminders of loved ones, special events, and ordinary events.

Seeing my friend’s name on a sign along the road was a good reminder, albeit a moist-eyed one, of the love that surrounds me each and every day. If I look, I can find reminders all around (as I typed that, we passed beneath a road sign for Lover, PA. I am not making that up!!) How blessed I feel and how thankful I am for the presence of a loving God in my life and in the lives of my loved ones. It is a privilege to raise children and to see them grow. It is a joyful (and challenging, tiring, exhilarating) journey that we are privileged to take together. The reminders of God’s love and the love of others are great companions on my trip today and everyday.

Gracious God, watch over all of us who are taking sons and daughters to college this season. Bless all those who work at colleges and universities too. Amen.

Leaving the party

“In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.” Mark 1:35

The gift of time alone. That is one of the things I got after my divorce. Time alone when the kids were with their dad. Not just for a night or a weekend but regularly for four or five days at a stretch. Painful at times, but also an opportunity to read and think and write. If it were not for those times of being alone I don’t think I would have written any of these essays. With other people in the house I think I would have filled my time doing things with them and for them, and for myself, but probably not writing.

Fortunately it is possible to find time alone without getting a divorce but it may not be easy. It involves choosing one thing over another, and building up the discipline of making the choice consistently, over the long term. Who wants to leave a party when people are having a good time? Or who wants to get up early, crawling out from under the warm covers or leaving the warm side of a loved one in the bed? Yet making these kinds of decisions provides other spaces to open up, spaces that are needed to accomplish other things: getting in extra hours of studying, getting to work early (or on time), exercising, reading, thinking, writing, praying. The discipline of leaving the party early (figuratively speaking) takes time to practice and repetition to strengthen, but it is not a magical skill that some people have and some do not. It is a choice made hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, until it becomes more like a habit than a disruption.

And, it helps to have some kind of accountability. The weekly phone calls with my “writing buddy” have been going on for years, providing encouragement and holding me to my self-imposed deadlines and goals (thank you, Jerry!!). It is easier to “leave the party” when you are not the only one leaving! It is easier to put in that extra hour of studying or work or those extra steps/laps/sit-ups when you are not doing it/them alone. I need to be alone to write but I do not have to make that choice a secret.

Lord, in this era of constant communication, remind me to seek some time for stillness and reflection. Thank you for the sustaining power of prayer, and for strength to focus on long-term goals. Amen.

Pushing the pause button

Pushing the pause button

“In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.” Mark 1:35.

I am reading An Altar in the World, by Barbara Brown Taylor, a book given to me by my dear friend Carol. It is full of meaty phrases and ideas, such that as I read I am sticking my fingers between the pages that I want to go back and reread right away. “Wow,” I think, “that is great. I will come back to it as soon as I read this next amazing description!” By the time I stopped to go back I had read four more pages of pithy insight.

The irony here is that I was reading about the practice of paying attention, of being immersed in the moment, rather than looking past this present moment towards the next moment. Taylor describes this as a way of being reverent, and thereby honoring the people and things around us. Fortunately, I did go back and relish the points I wondered at, and I marked up the page so that I can go back and find them again more easily. It took a little time to do this, but not much.

Call it what you will – stopping to smell the roses, pushing the pause button, practicing reverence by paying attention – doing so this morning allowed me to soak in the thoughts that caught my attention rather than having them ricochet off me before I could grasp them and  hold them and truly appreciate them. I will not spend my whole day this way, pausing to see or hear and appreciate the people and things around me. I wouldn’t get out of my house and yard if I did! But it is good to pause for five or 10 minutes to soak up the rain of blessings that bombard me daily.

Thank you, God, for the wonders of your creation that stop us in our tracks. And thank you for people whose gifts to help us appreciate your creation all the more.

Moving

Moving

“See, I am making all things new.” Rev. 21:5

I’m moving offices and although I’ve been in my current office only three and a half years I’ve accumulated lot of files, reports, and books. Between the sorting and packing the other day I took a break to talk to a colleague about a new project. Our conversation led us to the subject of organizational change. We speculated about how a bold new initiative can generate energy and enthusiastic action, then ever so slightly fade over the years as it becomes institutionalized. It gets seen as normal, as “the way we do things here;” new ideas and energy are directed elsewhere. People are curious and as much as we like patterns and routines we also like new things and we like to be creative, creating. Both for our minds and our bodies, we have to keep moving to stay lively, limber, and flexible.

I imagined a lobster trying to grow without shedding its shell. It would be squeezed, constricted, stifled, and unable to move because of the weight of all the new shells formed over the old. While it is disruptive to pack up my office and move to another building, it also is an opportunity to shed some baggage and possessions that are old and no longer useful. If I were to drag to the new office all my old files, books, and mementos, I too would be weighed down and unable to move, unable to grow or change or to do new things. That printout of the presentation I made in 2000? It was a good presentation but now it’s out of date, and the printout doesn’t make it any more current. The national norms from the 2001 survey? They probably are on the web by now, if I ever really need to see them. It is okay to give up old things (old habits, old ideas) so that there is room in my new office (new year, new life) to think and do new things.

What is it that’s holding you down, keeping you from being able to move? Is it possessions? Things you’ve signed up for or agreed to do? Attitudes? Things you think are supposed to be so? What new things could you be doing, what new friends could you be making, if you had some freedom to move, to breathe, to stretch and grow?

It doesn’t have to be difficult, and it doesn’t have to be done all at once. I started with one file, then another. Then one drawer, and a shelf. It felt great! It was liberating to let go so that I can move on.

Which will you be – the lobster with all its old shells, weighed down by their gradual accumulation? Or the lobster with a new shell, growing and changing?

Gracious God, thank you for the example of nature, ever growing and changing. Help me to resist the temptation to stay the same. Let me follow your lead toward newness of life. Amen.

Changing plans

Changing plans

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.” Jeremiah 29:11-12.

How important it is to stay flexible and fluid, especially when it comes to driving in winter! My plan for this morning was to pick up my son from the bus in New York City, spend time with him, and then hit the road to Maine where I will spend Thanksgiving with my “Maine man” and his kids. As of last night the impending nor’eater was putting a crimp in those plans, with its rain projected to turn to snow, steadily precipitating throughout the day and into tonight. I was thinking that it would be smarter to stay put today and make the 400 mile drive tomorrow, still arriving on Thanksgiving day.

The phone call last night, an update from my son about a mix-up with the bus ticket, meant that I’ll be driving to Philadelphia today to pick him up. Weather forecast: rain, no snow south of here. Good news! I’ll get to spend more time with my son, and Plan B (drive to Maine tomorrow) still is in place. No worries, no upsets, and (I hope) no accidents along the way.

I am well aware, however, of the saying “When we make plans, God laughs” so I know that my plans may have to change yet again. Like trees that bend in the wind but do not break, being both flexible and steadfast today will help me to weather this storm. I will pray for safety for everyone who is traveling to spend time with loved ones, whether their travels take them on plane, train, bus, car, boat, bike, or on foot.

Lord, today I will cherish the journey and the destination, blessing the strangers along the way as well as my loved ones at the end of the road. Amen.

A direct connection

A direct connection

“Word of God, speak, would you pour down like rain, washing my eyes to see your majesty, to be still and know that you’re in this place . . .” – from the song “Word of God Speak” by MercyMe

[This post was written Oct. 11, 2014] It is a dark and rainy morning in New Jersey. I have an unscheduled day and am enjoying a slow morning – reading the Bible, reading Anne Lamott, listening to the rain and a bird chirping. The rain is a gift, slowing me down and canceling my plans for yard work. I can be still for a while and let the beauty of nature and the love in the words sink into my heart. I thank God that I can pray right here where I am sitting, without having to download a new version of a prayer “app”, without having to sign in to my account, and without first having to charge my phone or tablet or other device. Prayer is an opportunity to connect with God and get my batteries charged, drawing on the food and power of God’s Word and Spirit. “Give us this day our daily bread” is for me today, “Give us this day our time with You, Lord, so that we can get grounded, centered, and ready to be compassion and action in the world.”

Lord, I praise you for your creation, for your nourishing rain, and for the direct connection of prayer. Amen.

Eye-to-eye

“The eyes are the window to your soul.” – William Shakespeare

“Look me in the eye and say that!” is a taunt used in anger or indignation, urging someone seen as cowardly or inferior to repeat the challenge or insult that has been spoken. Looking someone in the eye creates a direct and personal connection; letting someone look into your eyes invites communication, even intimacy. A helpful tip for travelers at friendly border crossings is to take off their sunglasses so that the Customs agent can see the eyes of the travelers. Doing so conveys openness and engenders trust.

I had a wonderful conversation with a colleague from another college at a recent learning community retreat. She and I have known each other for a dozen years, seeing each other annually at this retreat. We usually ask about each other’s families and have a pleasant conversation. This year our conversation became deeper, sharing more of the details of our lives and our histories, our ups and downs. In the midst of a lively, noisy reception we were had a heart-to-heart conversation about our hopes and dreams. I think the turning point was our eye contact. As I started to share more about myself I became aware of feeling deeply moved, and I realized that there was a decision I could make – I could move off to talk to different people, or continue the conversation at a lighter level by changing the subject, or I could look her in the eye and risk feeling the emotions – both sadness and joy – that were attached to the things we were talking about. I looked at her and we held our eye contact, our eyes tearing up as we did so, knowing that it was an unusual moment of connection and grace. The colleague and friend I knew professionally was now a much closer friend. We had given each other the gift of ourselves and our attention, really listening to and hearing not just the words of the other but also the emotions in those words and stories. Strange that eye contact had opened up my ears, but it was more my heart that was opened, the better for my senses to work.

When is the last time you really looked into the eyes of an acquaintance, a friend, or a loved one, holding that eye contact and listening to the emotions behind the words? Try it today for a jolt of connection, a powerful and bold way to give that person a gift of love and grace, an affirmation of his or her importance and worth.

Thank you, Lord, for eyes to really see into the hearts of others, and to let them see me too. Amen.

P.S. – a shout out to Barbara S., whose words of appreciation at the retreat made a huge difference for me, and got me back online!