Recently a pop star/icon/music legend died. Perhaps you may have heard about it. Over and over I heard people expressing their grief and insisting that he “died too soon.” I think I understand what they were thinking. Twenty years ago my father died. He was only fifty-three. I knew then that was young-ish. Now that I am fifty-two I know just how young that really was.
Yesterday my nephew died from injuries sustained from a fifty foot fall. He was fifteen. That, my friends, is too young. There are some things about this that I am not able to wrap my brain around, but here’s what I have pulled out of this mess.
Most importantly, life is brief. Live it. Don’t wait for something to come along to begin to do what you love. Growing up I heard this from my mom. She would tell us, “Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can do today.” She was usually referring to some unpleasant job, like cleaning our room, that we didn’t want to do. It’s just as good advice for the things we want to do or feel passionate about. Isn’t that how Jake was? At fifteen, he had crammed a lot of living in.
Laugh often. Jake was an imp. I can’t count the many times Julie told me that he made her laugh. There is enough sorrow and pain in this world, but not near enough laughter. It is natural that we will be sad for a time, but we don’t have to trade in our laughter and carry around sorrow for forever. Who would be the first person to try and make us laugh at a time like this? Take his cue.
Love Jesus. Julie shared that Jake was feeling that God was calling him to something. At fifteen he was open to that. He didn’t know what it was but he was going to be ready when it came. There’s a Christian cliché that says, “Your life may be the only Bible some may ever read.” For me, the page that has Jake on it says, “You can love Jesus. You can trust Him, even when you don’t have all the answers.”
Jake’s life ended while he was doing something he enjoyed, with people he liked, in a setting that was beautiful, aware of the God who created and loved him. Some will ask where God was and is in all of this. God’s voice was in the voice of the counselor who told Jake to be careful and stay on the path. Perhaps he wasn’t listening as closely as he should have. Perhaps he was traveling too close to the edge. We can all relate to that. We’ve all strayed off the path and paid consequences we didn’t count on. I guess that’s the next point. Listen. We need to make sure that we’re tuned in and listening. There’s so much that God wants to say to us if we’ll just quit talking long enough and listen.
Learn. Jake was learning about this magical world of photography. I heard that someone felt bad for “teaching” him what he knew. That needs to stop; because if hadn’t been photography, it would have been something else. I remember when Jake was little and into soccer, he had this thing he put around his waist that had a soccer ball attached so he could practice soccer. He always wanted to be better. Learning opens us up to living. So whether we’re fifty or fifteen, or somewhere in between, we need to keep learning—to keep growing, to keep living.
Lean. Sometimes when tragedy hits we have the tendency to pull away and lick our wounds and ask our questions alone. This is not the time for that. It is the time to lean in on each other. When my dad died, he died at home with hospice. Those of us at the house were remembering things about Dad and amid our tears there were funny stories that brought laughter. I noticed that the hospice worker had written in her notes: “Family remembering appropriately.” That night my brother, sister, and I sang together. It was a good time of leaning. As family and friends we have to get better at leaning on one another. I know life can be hectic and full—but let’s not let it crowd out the opportunities to come tighter and draw strength and encouragement from one another.
Yes, he was gone too soon, but he will never really ever be gone, if we learn the lessons from his life. In that way we will keep him alive and let his life make an even greater impact.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Whud-ya say?
How well do you listen? In Luke 8:18, Jesus gives the instruction to those around him to “consider carefully how you listen.” I don’t know about you, but I typically give about as much attention to how I listen as to how I taste. I don’t. I just do it. But maybe that’s not good enough.
A few years ago I began to wonder if my husband was losing his hearing. I instructed him at his next doctor’s visit to discuss it with his physician. When he came home, he was quick to assure me that his hearing was perfect. His problem was with his listening. The doctor had no suggestions for my husband, but recommended that he instruct me to be sure that I didn’t try to talk to him from another room and know that it was essential that I had his full attention (aka look him in the eyes) if I was to expect to be heard.
I remember during my counseling training the professors seemed to go on and on about teaching us how to listen. I found it very challenging to not “think ahead” of what the person was telling me. I’m a solver and I had to figure out how to turn off that mental function and just listen.
It’s easy for me to identify poor listening in others. I see it in weary parents who somehow have been able to turn off the incessant whining and pleading of their little children. I see it in the employee who just keeps nodding yes to their boss’ instructions. I see it in the spouse who long prior tuned out the story their mate was telling them. I don’t want to see it in myself.
The thing that really concerns me, right now, is to honestly evaluate how I listen…or don’t. And even more importantly, how do I listen to God. I have been told I am a pretty good listener. I like for people to feel heard. I know how important that is. I found a quote that really describes it for me: “Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to it creates us, makes us unfold, and expand.” (Sue Patton Thoele) I want to be a part of that process for people. I mean, think about. How have you felt when you have really, really felt heard? I love to create a space where that can happen.
So, if I’m so good at that with other people, why do I feel like I should get a sub-par score for listening to God? I’m sitting here pondering this thought very early in the morning. As I am, I look out my big front picture window at all the trees in my front yard and there isn’t a leaf moving. I have four very large maples standing perfectly still. I am in awe because I don’t do still—at least not very well, and rarely by choice.
The scene has changed. I’m at work now. A continental breakfast is being provided for the youth who are here for convention. They talk, saying words that no one seems to be listening. They ask questions, but don’t wait for answers. It was all I could do not to snicker at them, until I realized their behavior is not so far from my own. I tip my hat at God, occasionally noticing His presence. I ask Him to act or move, but rarely wait to see what part He may have for me to play. I babble on and on, not realizing how empty my thoughts and words are—just sound filling up space.
I know better. In the very first church I pastored, there was a woman whose life was the embodiment of E.F. Hutton’s slogan: When E.F. Hutton speaks, people listen. When Lois spoke, people listened. Lois had cancer in her sinus cavity and much of those inner workings had been removed. She could speak, but it was labored and sometimes difficult to understand. So when she did say something, it was because she had something to say and people listened. My pastor put it this way in a recent sermon: just because you could say something doesn’t mean you have to.
But it isn’t enough to just not talk. Earlier this morning, when I was staring out the window at the trees, I realized as I stilled myself long enough to focus, that there was movement in the tree and leaves. It was very subtle and slight, but I never would have seen it if I hadn’t taken the time to focus. We tend to think of focus as only visual. We can focus our hearing, too, like my husband whose hearing worked well if was listening. We have to be still and intentional if we want to hear others, and if we want to hear what God wants to say to us.
So, what have you heard lately?
A few years ago I began to wonder if my husband was losing his hearing. I instructed him at his next doctor’s visit to discuss it with his physician. When he came home, he was quick to assure me that his hearing was perfect. His problem was with his listening. The doctor had no suggestions for my husband, but recommended that he instruct me to be sure that I didn’t try to talk to him from another room and know that it was essential that I had his full attention (aka look him in the eyes) if I was to expect to be heard.
I remember during my counseling training the professors seemed to go on and on about teaching us how to listen. I found it very challenging to not “think ahead” of what the person was telling me. I’m a solver and I had to figure out how to turn off that mental function and just listen.
It’s easy for me to identify poor listening in others. I see it in weary parents who somehow have been able to turn off the incessant whining and pleading of their little children. I see it in the employee who just keeps nodding yes to their boss’ instructions. I see it in the spouse who long prior tuned out the story their mate was telling them. I don’t want to see it in myself.
The thing that really concerns me, right now, is to honestly evaluate how I listen…or don’t. And even more importantly, how do I listen to God. I have been told I am a pretty good listener. I like for people to feel heard. I know how important that is. I found a quote that really describes it for me: “Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward. When we are listened to it creates us, makes us unfold, and expand.” (Sue Patton Thoele) I want to be a part of that process for people. I mean, think about. How have you felt when you have really, really felt heard? I love to create a space where that can happen.
So, if I’m so good at that with other people, why do I feel like I should get a sub-par score for listening to God? I’m sitting here pondering this thought very early in the morning. As I am, I look out my big front picture window at all the trees in my front yard and there isn’t a leaf moving. I have four very large maples standing perfectly still. I am in awe because I don’t do still—at least not very well, and rarely by choice.
The scene has changed. I’m at work now. A continental breakfast is being provided for the youth who are here for convention. They talk, saying words that no one seems to be listening. They ask questions, but don’t wait for answers. It was all I could do not to snicker at them, until I realized their behavior is not so far from my own. I tip my hat at God, occasionally noticing His presence. I ask Him to act or move, but rarely wait to see what part He may have for me to play. I babble on and on, not realizing how empty my thoughts and words are—just sound filling up space.
I know better. In the very first church I pastored, there was a woman whose life was the embodiment of E.F. Hutton’s slogan: When E.F. Hutton speaks, people listen. When Lois spoke, people listened. Lois had cancer in her sinus cavity and much of those inner workings had been removed. She could speak, but it was labored and sometimes difficult to understand. So when she did say something, it was because she had something to say and people listened. My pastor put it this way in a recent sermon: just because you could say something doesn’t mean you have to.
But it isn’t enough to just not talk. Earlier this morning, when I was staring out the window at the trees, I realized as I stilled myself long enough to focus, that there was movement in the tree and leaves. It was very subtle and slight, but I never would have seen it if I hadn’t taken the time to focus. We tend to think of focus as only visual. We can focus our hearing, too, like my husband whose hearing worked well if was listening. We have to be still and intentional if we want to hear others, and if we want to hear what God wants to say to us.
So, what have you heard lately?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
On Complaining...Or Not
This past trip to visit my mom in Arizona brought something new to my awareness. It’s not completely new, but it sure hit me in a new kind of way. I have very little tolerance with complaining. Let me clarify. I believe that there is room for dissatisfaction and the proper communicating of that. My problem is with people…like the woman at the movie theater.
Mom and I decided that we were going to see the movie, “The Proposal.” Romantic comedies are one of my favorite genres of films (followed closely by Disney animation). I was pretty excited to see the film, partly because I like the star, Sandra Bullock, and partly because it was nice to see a grown up movie. We were standing in a line waiting to buy our tickets when a woman came in with a group and immediately began to complain. The line was too long. She wasn’t going to get a good seat. Couldn’t they afford to get adequate help so she didn’t have to wait? On and on she went. Then when we got into the theater, even though it was a multi-plex, she was seated right behind us. I don’t think she skipped a beat and went right on complaining, loud enough for everyone around her to hear (which was pretty loud, keeping in mind this is a retirement community). The upcoming movie ads were too long. The theater was too cold. The seats were too hard. Sandra Bullock was too thin. The movie was too predictable.
When I had enough, I leaned over to my mom and told her I was about ready to stuff a sock in the woman’s mouth. I wouldn’t have done it, but it was a really tempting thought. After the movie Mom and I were laughing about it. Then she got serious and said that complaining was just a way of life for the people down there. That ended the discussion, but not my thinking about it.
Reflecting on it now, I am still mystified that retired folk in Arizona would be complaining. Sure it’s warm, okay hot, but it’s a dry heat. They were complaining about 30% humidity while the humidity back home in Ohio was over 100%. They live in beautiful homes, surrounded by amazing scenery. They are retired so all they have is time, but they complain about waiting. I just don’t get it.
I decided to make sure that it was complaining that I had the biggest problem with, so I checked the definition out on dictionary.com. The distinction that stuck out most clearly to me was the between expressing dissatisfaction and a constant whining complaining about everything. It wasn’t occasional dissatisfaction that bothered me, but that seemingly total frustration and complaint about everything that really grates on me. One of the descriptions is “to whine like a spoiled child.” And that hit it right on the head for me. Whiners and complainers walk around exuding some kind of sense of entitlement that irritates me to no end. That’s what got to me about the woman at the movie. She seemed to feel she was entitled to immediate attention, and seating, and the perfect movie experience.
As I read all the way through the definitions I found that they listed an antonym at the end. The antonym for complain is rejoice. How perfect is that! Paul admonishes the Philippians to do all things without grumbling or complaining. He moves through a discussion on growing spiritually deep and hits with pretty solid intensity their need to rejoice. And he says it again, probably louder and more forcefully: Rejoice! James echoes the teaching by telling the readers of his letter to “count it ALL joy.”
At one of the darkest and most shame-full periods of my life, I spent sixty days in jail. Not even my typically optimistic and sanguine personality seemed to be much help then. I had to make a conscious effort to be thank-full. I had to look for things to rejoice about. The more I looked, the more I found. The more I found, the better I felt and the more joy that became apparent to others. The shame wasn’t erased, but the heaviness was lifted. I was surrounded by much whining and complaining but all I could feel was an abiding gratitude for the way God was bringing me through. I was in a dark, dark valley, but Goodness and Mercy walked me enabling me to avoid the grumbly pitfalls and come out on the side of joy.
Maybe that’s why I get easily irritated by the complaining and whining of others. I know where I’ve been and how easily it would have been to give up. But honestly, what good does whining and complaining do? I haven’t seen one occasion where it has made the situation better. Whereas, I have seen the insertion of thankfulness and joy into an otherwise abysmal situation make all the difference—for the good—in the world!
So don’t make me get my sock out! Things not going well? Look for what is and plant the seed of thankfulness. Who are your traveling mates on the journey? If they aren’t Goodness and Mercy, then beat feet away from the negativity and soak in the grace that will release you into joy! Who you travel with and how you travel is really up with you. You want some control? Control that!
Mom and I decided that we were going to see the movie, “The Proposal.” Romantic comedies are one of my favorite genres of films (followed closely by Disney animation). I was pretty excited to see the film, partly because I like the star, Sandra Bullock, and partly because it was nice to see a grown up movie. We were standing in a line waiting to buy our tickets when a woman came in with a group and immediately began to complain. The line was too long. She wasn’t going to get a good seat. Couldn’t they afford to get adequate help so she didn’t have to wait? On and on she went. Then when we got into the theater, even though it was a multi-plex, she was seated right behind us. I don’t think she skipped a beat and went right on complaining, loud enough for everyone around her to hear (which was pretty loud, keeping in mind this is a retirement community). The upcoming movie ads were too long. The theater was too cold. The seats were too hard. Sandra Bullock was too thin. The movie was too predictable.
When I had enough, I leaned over to my mom and told her I was about ready to stuff a sock in the woman’s mouth. I wouldn’t have done it, but it was a really tempting thought. After the movie Mom and I were laughing about it. Then she got serious and said that complaining was just a way of life for the people down there. That ended the discussion, but not my thinking about it.
Reflecting on it now, I am still mystified that retired folk in Arizona would be complaining. Sure it’s warm, okay hot, but it’s a dry heat. They were complaining about 30% humidity while the humidity back home in Ohio was over 100%. They live in beautiful homes, surrounded by amazing scenery. They are retired so all they have is time, but they complain about waiting. I just don’t get it.
I decided to make sure that it was complaining that I had the biggest problem with, so I checked the definition out on dictionary.com. The distinction that stuck out most clearly to me was the between expressing dissatisfaction and a constant whining complaining about everything. It wasn’t occasional dissatisfaction that bothered me, but that seemingly total frustration and complaint about everything that really grates on me. One of the descriptions is “to whine like a spoiled child.” And that hit it right on the head for me. Whiners and complainers walk around exuding some kind of sense of entitlement that irritates me to no end. That’s what got to me about the woman at the movie. She seemed to feel she was entitled to immediate attention, and seating, and the perfect movie experience.
As I read all the way through the definitions I found that they listed an antonym at the end. The antonym for complain is rejoice. How perfect is that! Paul admonishes the Philippians to do all things without grumbling or complaining. He moves through a discussion on growing spiritually deep and hits with pretty solid intensity their need to rejoice. And he says it again, probably louder and more forcefully: Rejoice! James echoes the teaching by telling the readers of his letter to “count it ALL joy.”
At one of the darkest and most shame-full periods of my life, I spent sixty days in jail. Not even my typically optimistic and sanguine personality seemed to be much help then. I had to make a conscious effort to be thank-full. I had to look for things to rejoice about. The more I looked, the more I found. The more I found, the better I felt and the more joy that became apparent to others. The shame wasn’t erased, but the heaviness was lifted. I was surrounded by much whining and complaining but all I could feel was an abiding gratitude for the way God was bringing me through. I was in a dark, dark valley, but Goodness and Mercy walked me enabling me to avoid the grumbly pitfalls and come out on the side of joy.
Maybe that’s why I get easily irritated by the complaining and whining of others. I know where I’ve been and how easily it would have been to give up. But honestly, what good does whining and complaining do? I haven’t seen one occasion where it has made the situation better. Whereas, I have seen the insertion of thankfulness and joy into an otherwise abysmal situation make all the difference—for the good—in the world!
So don’t make me get my sock out! Things not going well? Look for what is and plant the seed of thankfulness. Who are your traveling mates on the journey? If they aren’t Goodness and Mercy, then beat feet away from the negativity and soak in the grace that will release you into joy! Who you travel with and how you travel is really up with you. You want some control? Control that!
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