Month: May 2012 (Page 2 of 4)

the noun form of the verb

May 22, 2012 / Michele Minehart

I don’t refer to myself as a runner; while I do like to log several miles, my form and my measureless lack anything inspiring. I don’t subscribe to runners world and I only have one playlist. Come to think of it, I only have one workout: 3 miles. Unless I’m training for a half. Then I increase miles but pay no attention to pace. Fartliks, speedwork, these things mean nothing. It’s about the finish, which is generally my only goal in running. So, I’m not a runner. I just like to run. I’m okay with that.

But I don’t just like to write. I aspire to be a writer. Someone who finds purpose in putting thoughts together with words and those who read the words find truth, beauty and emotion, be it laughs or tears. I hope that my tendencies to over-dramatize the events of my day elevate a hidden truth about the world that finds connection in someone else’s heart. I don’t “just like to” write.

So, my friends say, be a writer. Go from the verb to the noun. Write to writer. Make the leap. But there are fears, you see. Hangups exist. Blocks that cause stumbling (and not just the writer’s kind). And for the most part I can tell you what will keep me from being a writer. I might as well get them out in the open. Name your enemies and keep them close, right?

1. Pride. I hate failing, so I generally avoid trying. It’s a method that has served me well in the past in terms of success rates, but lacks a bit when it comes to the joys of overcoming challenges. Enter: Don Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.

2. Industry knowledge. I don’t know who to write for, other than Blogger and I’ve been told I’m even behind the times there (WordPress is superior, you say?). I might be able to rustle up a few regular readers, but I’m not sure what publication they congregate around.

3. General lack of a goal. I read today some advice about elevating your platform and offering a “Wow experience.” Some questions the blog asked:

What is the product or experience I want to create or transform into a wow? How will the customer or prospect feel as a result of this experience? (In other words, what is the specific outcome you want to create?)

My answers? I. Don’t. Know. When I talk about writing in a general sense, people ask me what I would write about. And my answer is mysteriously similar. Is “nonfiction” an acceptable response at this point?

4. Solitary confinement. I read the above questions and had the burning desire to send out a meeting invite so I could talk strategy with 11 of my closest friends. But writing isn’t much of a team sport when it comes down to keystrokes. Perhaps I can find a community-published blog, but I’m not sure where to go for those, either, so I’m left with myself and an empty whiteboard.

5. Accountability. With no deadlines in place, no end goals, it’s lollygagging from hear forward. Perhaps this changes with updates to # 2 and #3, but I can’t be sure. Other than the poor soul who kept reading this post (Hi Kristy!) and my husband, no one will really have a sense of where I am and what I’m doing. And we’re back to roadblock #1.

I’m sure that Ann Lamott would tell me to get get over myself, get my butt in the chair and begin writing some really bad stuff. It’s the writer’s version of putting on some shoes and stepping one foot in front of the other, no matter how bad the form. So really, all I need to do for follow through is to put a little money on a 5K.

I’d be curious what the big blocks are for others, be it writers or for those who just aspire to something else. Surly I can’t be alone, right? Right?

Letting go gives a better grip

May 18, 2012 / Michele Minehart

As one who lives with someone who looses things, the parables of the lost sheep/coin drive me batty. My rule-driven nature tells JJ, “if you just hang your keys on the key holder when you come in every day, you’d know exactly where they are.” Alas, people are not inanimate objects and tend to wonder on their own.

But in reading about lost things this morning, I was prompted to ask my friend (who grew up on a sheep farm): can you trust the 99 not to scatter when you go chasing the one? My gut says yes… they’re such followers that the pack will stay together. Even when there are only 4 of them, you only have to wrestle one to lead it to the pen and the rest will follow. These are the lessons 4-H provides.

Back to the 99. The story was in response to Jesus eating will a few individuals of ill repute. The religious folk didn’t take to it well. I think they wanted Jesus to be spending his dinnertimes with them.

When I learned hebrew, the first verb that became a part of our exercises was shamar: to guard. We were always guarding. My teacher had a very integrated approach to learning language, so we even sang songs with shamar in all its forms (along with a killer alphabet song with some yiddish twang. Truly awesome). Who knew there was so much guarding going on, especially in the Hebrew world?

But this parable seems to imply that shamar wasn’t the verb of choice because it was normal in all its forms (which is also true). Maybe humans have a shamar-ish nature. When a sheep goes astray, our reaction seems to be “lock down! Don’t let another one out!”

But Jesus’ prerogative isn’t to guard but to chase. To seek, to find. He instructs us to ask and knock. When talking about the kingdom, there’s a lot of action; finding something and selling everything to buy it. His instructions include keeping when it comes to faith in relation to difficult times, but most everything else about his message is about loosing. Releasing. Or, in the words of David Crowder, “letting go gives a better grip.”

A woman’s place is in the …

May 14, 2012 / Michele Minehart

I find it appropriate that on the heels of Mothers Day, I find myself reading the ol’ Mary & Martha story. Jesus comes for a visit, Martha busies herself with preparing the creme puffs and coffee, meanwhile Mary gets comfy in the living room. (The story would get better if she were sitting on a cushy pillow. The nerve!)

I’ve heard the messages and sermons on how we ought not get caught up in the details. I currently find myself lacking sleep over a celebration I’m helping to host this weekend, getting eaten alive by details and unable to focus on the wonderful company I’ll keep. However, I’m not sure Luke’s story is focused on that. When Saturday arrives, the day will be the day and we’ll enjoy whatever comes of it. I think this passage is often used to heap a bit more guilt onto the shoulders of women who take pride in hospitality, the ones who make a mean cheesecake but then later feel ashamed that they don’t love Jesus enough because of it.

I’ve taken to asking myself, “what about this story is so different that someone would think it would be noteworthy?” The unexceptional things rarely get written (especially when etching onto parchment, which was at a premium). And in cultures where hospitality takes higher priority, I’m not sure Martha’s time in the kitchen would be all that remarkable.

So perhaps instead of throwing Martha under the bus for doing what was common, we should think more about the uncommon. First: I don’t think it was normal practice for guests to delegate household responsibilities. So Martha’s attempt to get Mary into the kitchen causes pause. I’m not sure it’s just a whiny sister here… she was not just making a statement about uneven workloads. Actually, to draw the guest of honor’s attention to the fact probably indicates a significant attempt by Martha to degrade Mary. Not just for shirking dish duty, but for how she filled her time instead.

While I’m sure women were a part of Jesus’ discipleship chain, I’m not convinced they always had prime access. As I put this passage into the scheme of my understanding, I wonder if women were welcome, but not always prioritized. “Sure, you can join… after the silver is polished” type of thing. And though patriarchy is an easy target, we should leave room for the ways the culture influenced the empowerment women felt when it came to following Jesus. Mary might be remarkable because of her guts.

In any case, Mary threw custom out the window. Something about Jesus told her that they could order a pizza for dinner because this guy was more important. So much so, she crossed a room likely filled full of men anxious to here what Jesus had to say, wiggled herself into prime location and had a seat.

I wonder if the scuffle was not so much that Mary wasn’t in the kitchen, but rather she was in the place where she might not necessarily be welcome. She sat herself among people who perhaps didn’t invite her to take a seat.

And sweet little Martha, offered Jesus a chance to correct Mary and send her to where she belonged. How considerate. In essence, she’s saying “Jesus, you can tell her where to go.”

Jesus didn’t take the bait. Boundaries and classes and dividers and -isms were outside his agenda. Those majors were minors. “One thing is essential, and Mary has chosen it.”

Month: May 2012 (Page 2 of 4)

the noun form of the verb

Letting go gives a better grip

A woman’s place is in the …

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