Category: Uncategorized (Page 32 of 188)

When is Good good enough?

Recently a friend posted a question regarding Toms shoes, which inadvertently kept her up at night. I’m barely hip enough to own a pair let alone know that controversy surrounds the company. So I followed the discussion string. 

Apparently a school of thought surfaced that criticized the buy-one-give-one model that Toms made famous. And, as the conversational thread continued, seemingly valid points: Tom himself (though not his real name) has been rumored to own a yacht and makes millions from the company. The drop sites sometimes erupt with violence as locals compete for limited resources. 
Not one to miss an opportunity for flag waving, I applaud these informed consumers. Way to look into the companies from which you purchase! Our society needs more, not less, work toward retail goods awareness. So while I seem to be criticizing the Anti-Toms folk specifically, I do not intend on persuading people to turn a blind eye toward the companies making their goods. It’s not really about pro- or anti-Toms. It’s about our posture. It’s too easy to be critical and excuse ourselves from being part of a proposed solution.  
While I desire non-profits, charity agencies and those who simply desire to give to uphold high standards for the way in which they run their organization, I do believe that we use such transparency as an excuse to make us cheap and avoid giving altogether. Am I looking with such a sharp eye at Old Navy when I purchase their $5 sandals, made by the hands of young children? Am I decrying ol’ Les for his international travel habits? 
Toms isn’t even a non-profit, yet we criticize the good it attempts. Is the model perfect? No. Did the founder make a whopping buck? Sure did. But can we applaud the brilliant entrepreneurial move to combine the general desire for social needs with a product? And in his efforts, he provided more shoes to African children than I have – isn’t that worth something? And not only did the impoverished children benefit, our society became aware of the problem. How many pairs of shoes did I help contribute via Toms? 1. How many would I have without Toms? Zero. The author of that awful Starfish poem would say “it mattered to that one.” 
Others mentioned that micro-finance or other means would be more effective at eradicating the problems that face developing countries. Bravo, I agree. And so, dear critic: DO THAT. Perhaps with your partnership, and with the Toms efforts, and with the small steps made by a local UMW and with everyone’s little bit, such problems can be solved. 
Until then, I’m fine with the teeny-tiny contribution. I didn’t forgo any planned charitable contributions “because I bought a pair of Toms”. It’s not charity, it’s footwear. And I’ll support any businessperson who uses possible profits for the good of someone else. (He could’ve charged $50 and kept the whole thing, yes?) Criticism in this arena only douses desires for business owners to do something good with what they have if they can’t do it perfectly. 
I don’t believe God calls us to perfect charity for it to be a blessing. Wesley said, “Do all the good you can…”I enjoy that I can feel good about a product I was going to purchase anyway (not to mention that they are the perfect fall transition shoe – like an autumn flip flop before the boots come out). If I waited until an entrepreneur came up with a perfect plan to eradicate a detriment to our world, I would never do anything. Until then, I’m glad a few have put money behind their intentions. If they make a bunch of money off of it, then so be it. Maybe Mr. Toms surprise us and give some of that away, too. 

That’s it. I’m telling.

I’ve mentioned before – prayer is not my strong suit. It says somewhere (1 Corinthians, I would venture to guess) that prayer is one of the spiritual gifts. That makes me feel better about things and I totally justify my lackluster prayer life with the notion that I was instead given the gift of telling other people what to do. (And, humility. Lots of it. Clearly.) 

However, prayer still remains a vital way to connect with God, so I put my best foot forward. One day I began composing my prayer list for the morning – people and issues (which is usually about people) that came to mind that I felt I should lift up to God. Sometimes the sheer act of listing them out becomes my prayer. I know, it’s probably the cheaters way of prayer. This particular day, after I composed my list, I actually paused to move through it and pray it. 
Then, as nearly all non-prayer-gifted people do, my mind got stuck on other things. Namely, prayer. Why was I spending my time in this manner? Didn’t God already know? Why didn’t my listing of people count? Wasn’t God listening to my heart as I wrote these things down? So then, what is required for a prayer to “take”? Is there a requisite minute-count before a thought becomes a prayer? How does prayer fit into the quality/quantity struggle?
Though God is not human and exists beyond what our pretty little minds can understand, I posed the question to myself in light of the parent-chlid relationship in which I currently live. I have some familiarity, being both a) a child and b) a parent. I tried out a few situations to see which might be the best fit and how prayer would fall into the mix. (Note: looking at the subject this way will cast a bit of pettiness to your prayer list. I think this can be both a positive and a negative.)  
The Same Room
Kids are running around, playing “chase” while Parent sits presently in the same room, fully paying attention while only slightly passing time on Facebook. Someone runs the wrong way and BAM knocks into the youngest. Kids come crying. Parent saw the whole thing, but really couldn’t do anything to prevent the accident unless the Parent mandated everyone sit down and quietly read books, which no one thought was a good idea. 
In this case, prayer is not required for God to know what happened – He saw the whole thing. But prayer is a means to be heard. It’s an act that comforts and helps us to recognize God’s presence. I like this situation because I have difficulty with the notion that God isn’t fully present right here. But if God is fully present right here, why do I feel the need to pray? Prayer becomes about me rather than about God. 
The Other Room
Kids are downstairs, playing, mostly nicely with the occasional outbreak of discord. Parent is upstairs, trying to change out the summer clothes for the winter clothes while entertaining the baby. So when moments erupt that shake the equilibrium of peace in the other room, cries come forth requesting a judgement call. Now, the parent is fully aware that the peace will likely never remain constant, not until Daddy comes home. Intervention will likely be required. But, being in the other room, parent is not fully aware of the details of the situation (though the yells and stomping provide ample information). While knowing, s/he does not know. The parent listens to the requests of both parties and tries to rule for the general good of the home. 
In this case, prayer is required to bring full understanding to God. It’s not that God’s dumb, or even not present – He’s just turned is present attention to hunger in Africa and chemical warfare in Syria. And it’s not that He doesn’t care. He does care. He cares about how his children treat one another and when issues arise, He takes time to teach them how to interact and to love. But really, complete undivided attention shouldn’t be required in order to practice writing letters or play house. 
I kind of like this scenario. God is present, but perhaps we’re not in the spotlight 100% of the time. We have access to God’s attention without being the constant apple of His eye. Prayer serves as a way to keep God in the loop for even the small things, for which he wants to be involved. Pray-ers feel that God cares about the small stuff (because He does), but prayer is a way of turning things over when we’re not as practiced at being good Brothers & Sisters or when things simply don’t go the way we wanted them to.
Neither of these scenarios are perfect nor completely grasp the God-Human relationship. It’s simply the only way my mind can begin to comprehend. 
So, what say you, fellow pray-er? In which room is God? Or is there another way of looking through the parent-child window that sees it differently? (Perhaps for you God is out in the garage drinking a beer and doesn’t know anything until we come crying?) 

The Classics & New Releases

I met with my New Book Club for the first time. Super nice women, teetering on the edge of hilarity. Delicious eats. Did you know there’s such thing as Salty ‘n Sweet Caramel dip? Oh, yes, there is. If you use it to dip apples it would be “healthy”. Apparently using a spoon is frowned upon by the tummy gods. And the book? We read The Fault in Our Stars, an up-and-coming favorite and reportedly the quickest book-turned-movie in history. (Spoiler alert: it’s a book about teenagers with cancer. Well, not too spoiled – you learn about it in the first few pages. But be prepared to cry.)

So all these elements mark New Book Club into the win column. But I drove home feeling like a rain cloud hovered above me while everyone else’s atmosphere yielded sunshine and ice cream cones.

It wasn’t the same. 

I didn’t hear Sarah’s voice tattering on about who would play the lead roles in the coming movie. I missed Kristy’s avid agreement with lead character Hazel Grace when she said “funerals are for the living.” I’m sure April would chime in about her time with teenagers and some introspect  if one of them would have suffered the same fate. And Kristin would give a brilliant character analysis, mentioning something I hadn’t thought of before.

It’s not that my Old Book Club ladies are better at book clubbing than New Book Club. They’re just comfortable. We’ve already lived through the congealing process of a group, comfortable enough to hand out warning napkins when someone starts to slip in her dedication. We know which cupboard keeps the drinking glasses and when we sit at the table with a plateful of food, we start conversing with whomever sits beside us because there’s no “that girl” in the group. (Well, unless it was ME. Which runs a pretty good chance…)

While I’m so glad to have New Book Club in my life – because if first meetings are any indication, it’ll be fantastic – it also points to the large hole I’m trying to fill. It’s not until you’re shoveling in dirt that you realize just how deep the crevice actually is.

Unfortunately, this is the work of transplanting. I can’t expect New Book Club to pick up where Old Book Club left off. That was a solid 6 years together. We experienced first babies together, new marriages together. We faced cancer scares and post-baby issues. We vacationed together and cooked for one another and watched each others’ kids for free while we ran to the doctor.

Now these roots are trying to plant themselves in new soil and it’s not quite as comfortable. Surely when you uproot and replant a tree it takes time before it starts growing – let alone flourishing – again.

Everywhere I turn, and on nearly every night of the week, it seems, I find myself in a group hope-filled for meaningful, comfortable relationships. Yet my patience to allow these to form naturally – as opposed to forcing them to fit within the patterns that worked for me in the past – lags far, far behind. I’m only 2 years in to what took a solid 6-10 to form. Unfair comparison. But equally desirable. I know what can exists so I run for it even harder. Which, btw, is quite intimidating if you’re on the receiving end of my mad dash.

All I can do is impatiently enjoy what currently transpires. Laugh and chat with New Book Club and look forward to next month. Continue engaging the small talk while relationships begin to form. Fill my calendar with opportunities, expecting baby steps over leaps and bounds. Live expectantly, knowing good things – amazing people – do exist and will be slowly woven into the tapestry of my life here.

For a mere 2 years here, I do keep a good company. I’ve come into contact with some quality people. I simply need to stay the course and make myself open to developing these friendships. Turning around and running back isn’t an option (especially since we’re selling the house!). I must submit myself to the process – and maybe even enjoy getting to know this whole new landscape of persons.

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