Month: September 2014 (Page 3 of 4)

Soaked

Very porous, we humans are,” she said. One of my two wise yogi gurus made the jump between the Humans of New York photo I had shared and what it means to live faithfully.

Photo via Humans of New York. Follow him on Facebook and Instagram.

This is not my photo. Find more beauty via Humans of New York. Follow him on Facebook and Instagram. My life has been better since I’ve read these. life of faith. The picture of an older man included a quote from him, saying: life of faith.

The picture of an older man included a quote from him, saying:  “If you feed your children with food earned from corruption, they will be corrupt. If you feed your children with food earned from honesty, they will be honest.” I promise, this isn’t just another post about Monsanto or eating local or those flags I love to wave. The man’s wisdom, and my friend’s revelation, bears a deeper truth. We become what we take in. The Bread of Corruption means we turn our face from the people who hurt. When we do that repeatedly, we become corrupt ourselves.

As Jesus said, where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Nothing in this world is “just something.” You don’t read “just” a book – the story informs your own story and changes the way you see the world. You don’t watch “just” a show. The characters shape your view of people and relationships. You form your view of the world through everything in your life because it becomes your baseline of “normal.” When we are continually exposed to violence, we begin to believe that violence is a way of life and unavoidable – ask any gang member. When we steep ourselves in malls and magazines, we believe handbags and couture are required for normal functioning. We are indeed so porous. We will take in anything around us. I believe that if anyone finds contemporary American Christianity hallow, perhaps it’s because little is spoken in churches about our propensity to take in what is around us beyond the classic sins of sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. (Perhaps that’s because our churches tend to corporately absorb the culture in its own sterilized way, but alas, that’s a different post.) Spiritual living can come up short when we try to wash the wrong side of the cup. When we understand our sponge-like nature, we can then make sure we’re in direct contact with that which we want to embody. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Self-control. We speak of these things as tasks to accomplish – “grow more patient.” But we cannot. We can expose ourselves to patience. We can watch others live patiently. We can show gratitude and acknowledge the ways in which others bear patience with us. We look back and realize we have become more patient than we were last year. If we crave a deeper spirituality, a deeper faith, let us begin with how shallow we are. Start to ask how much of God’s spirit we intentionally expose ourselves to each day. Make a practice of taking of our shoes. If we want to bear more of the image of Jesus, we must expose ourselves to Jesus – through the scriptures, through the Spirit and through those whom we share this celestial ball. Like our bread, we choose how we fill our spirits.

All I Want for Christmas…

Miss M

This girl. I just adore her spirit. Photo credit: Chad Ledley

Tonight before bed Miss M spontaneously erupted into Christmas list making. After 5 or 6 things it became clear I needed to grab a piece of paper.

  1. Pet Rabbit
  2. Pet Turtle
  3. Fish in a big container that we can feed
  4. A new shirt with a reindeer on it
  5. A chair like daddy’s for hats and shirts
  6. Hats. And shirts.
  7. 2 new books, one about Elsa and one about Anna
  8. A pretty, pretty picture with a horse on it. And sparkles. But not the kind of sparkles we used today to paint with, that would come off in our hands.
  9. New shoes – princess shoes. (Clarification: these are shoes with princesses on them, not necessarily shoes meant for a princess to wear. With snaps.)
  10. A pencil and a crayon. Actually, 2 of each.
  11. A clock with a “kickstand” (the piece that projects the time onto the ceiling). Of course, this is a princess clock.
  12. A new toothbrush. (She mentioned this no less than 4 times. I think she’s serious.)
  13. A Bible to learn how to read.
  14. A pair of pants – not jeans.
  15. 2 flowers that she can water. They would stay on the inside during the winter.
  16. 2 Clothes baskets (perhaps to hold it all in?)

There’s only 100 days until Christmas. I suppose every 4 year old has her list at the ready if you just ask. (BTW, I didn’t ask.)

 

The only person in the room

When I was a young girl, I was laying down on the couch for a bit of rest – perhaps I was sick or just not upstairs taking a nap. I recall laying there and picking my nose. I barely had the finger extracted from my nostril when my Grandma Mary took a seat on the couch. She handed me a tissue and said, “If you need to fix something in your nose, please use a tissue.” No one around us heard the conversation. She didn’t embarrass or berate me. She didn’t show disgust. She smiled and looked earnestly at me as I wanted to dissipate.

That was her mode of operation. Joy spoke loudly in hoots and howls of laughter. Fear and sorrow whispered with the quiet sense that it wouldn’t have the last word. When you talked with Maryann, while you had your hair in the shampoo bowl or were waiting for a table at the Plaza, you had the sense that you were the only person in the room. She could be sharing a Christmas celebration with 10 grandchildren and each of us firmly believed we were the most special to her.

In the old shop with her favorite granddaughter.

In the old shop with her favorite granddaughter.

We would visit her throughout the summer on a whim – we would just pack a bag and go home with Grandpa on a given night, pick up Rebecca on the way, and then stay for a few days, usually until her bridge club met again. We had one, maybe two nights with her, yet she insisted upon getting us to the IGA to pick out our favorite “breakfast food” (that’s cereal to the kiddos). Sometimes, when we couldn’t decide between Alpha-bits and Honey Nut Cheerios, she’d demand we get them both. She was ridiculously generous like that.

She could arrive at any given venue and find a friend. Complete strangers unleashed their life stories because she listened with intensity, firmly believing this person’s story mattered. Grocery store clerks knew when her grandkids visited and her Avon lady took her shopping. Everyone mattered to her.

At her funeral, as the preacher gave opening words, the front row started shaking. You could see her 4 boys as they tried to swallow bits of laughter. Moving down the row, one person told the next that Grandma Mary likely hadn’t made it to heaven because she had to stop and talk to all the people along the way.

I would love to harness my inner-Maryann in honor of her 95th birthday today. I want to talk to people and see their innate value – speak to them like they’re the only person in the room. I want to get over my social awkwardness when I’m in big groups of people I don’t know and begin authentic conversation with the person beside me. (Seriously, I’m a mess. I’m good when I know one or two people and I can work outward, but in brand new situations I’m a disaster. I have to talk myself down from hiding in the bathroom). As I direct and guide my kids, I want to use quiet words in close proximity, not shouting reprimands from across the room.

I want to be the kind of person whose kids come home to play cards on the weekend because they just want another evening together. I want to radiate the kind of love that draws grandchildren close, not because they want something but because they feel something in my presence.

I want to be a good friend. The kind of friend that everyone thinks they’re my best friend.

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