Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Conversation with Aiden

I was emptying the dishwasher at Rebekah's house while 3-yr. old Aiden watched. He looked into an open drawer, reached in and carefully lifted out a plastic stirring spoon and said, "This is for spanking." "Ohhhh," I replied with the utmost seriousness. "Does it ever spank you?" His eyes and chin fell toward the floor as he quietly said, "Yes." "Does it spank anyone else?" "Yes," he said, more brightly. "It spanks Kyla, and Connor and Tyler." I stopped working in order to give him the full attention this conversation deserved. "Wow. This spoon spanks a lot of people," I said, meeting his eyes. "No! They're not people," he retorted with the gravity that only a 3-yr. old who knows what he knows can muster. I decided to have a little fun with him, taking care not to let him catch on that I was teasing, so as not to embarrass him. "Aren't you a people?" I asked. "No." "Oh. Is Kyla a people?" "No." "What is she?" After just a slight hesitation and a quick look across the room as if he were checking in with someone for accuracy, he replied, "She's a sister." "Oh. Is Connor a people?" "No." "What is he?" Another little hesitation, and a slight stumble as if he weren't one hundred percent sure he was about to give the correct answer, but determined enough to stand by his opinion whether or not it was correct. "He's a brother." "Oh. Is Tyler a people?" "No." "Oh. What is he?" "He's a brother. And I'm a brother." "Oh. I see. So there are 3 brothers and one sister who live here. Is that right?" "Yes." "And no people?" "No." "What about Mommy & Daddy? Are they people?" "No." "Daddy's not a people?" "No." "Then what is he?" There was a shadow of uncertainty behind the eyes, and then a shy, "He's a daddy." "Oh. Is Mommy a people?" "No." "Really? Then what is she?" "A mommy." "Oh. I see. So there are no people living in this house?" "No." "Oh. Well I'm glad I know who everybody is now. Thanks for helping me understand." And we went back to emptying the dishwasher.

On the short list of simple pleasures in life, conversations with a 3-yr. old absolutely must be included.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Nature Show

Since I had some extra time before heading to the airport this morning, I decided to spend a few minutes watching a nature show. With wonder and awe I watched a mother and father house wren take turns landing at the nesting box with wiggly worms in their mouths, the babies jamming their gaping mouths at the hole, each hoping to be the one to get the worm. After the treat had been lovingly deposited in the gullet of the ravenous chick, the parent dutifully reached further into the nest and removed a small wad of waste, flying away to drop it far from the nursery. Nearby were chickadees and finches jostling for places at a seed feeder, taunting each other, claiming perching rights, and having their fill of sunflower seeds. Below the feeder, two baby cardinals scavenged for seeds that had dropped during the scuffles above, along with a squirrel or two or three. When the squirrels weren't snuffling and pawing through the seed shells for the occasional intact goody, they were chasing one another around the tree and up the branches, leaping over each other like acrobats. A few feet above the action at the feeder, Mr. & Mrs. Bluebird were busy feeding their young at a nesting box hanging from a limb, at peace with their duties.

What a delightful way to spend a spare fifteen minutes, standing at my back window watching the nature show.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Too much sense?

I've been convicted by a quote I read in a book the other day.

Before going further, I need to explore the meaning of "convicted". Not as in being found guilty of a crime. Or maybe so, at least in part. Guilty of not doing something I know I should do. Or guilty of not being something I should be. But in any case, the part that can't be escaped is the "something I know I should" part. When I know I should do something but don't, that stirs up within my conscience an uncomfortable feeling of falling short. And that reminds me of the verse, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." Since Isaiah tells me that I was created for HIS glory, then it seems totally appropriate that I should feel something uncomfortable when I am falling short.

"Something is wrong if our lives make sense to unbelievers." (quote by Francis Chan)

Ever since I read that statement I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Does my life make too much sense? Honestly, I don't think I've done more than barely scratch the surface of the radical life Jesus called his followers to live. Living by faith is what He called us to do, and that is a far cry from what most of my life looks like. From time to time I recognize in another person (i.e. a particular daughter who lives with me but who shall remain unnamed) something I call a "disconnect". A disconnect is when you don't make the connection of understanding between two things that most would consider an obvious connection. But what if I have a disconnect of my own? That's the uncomfortable feeling of conviction that won't leave me ever since I read that quote. If my life makes sense to unbelievers, then how is it different from just being a very nice person with no use for Jesus? There are plenty of those around, and I don't want to be known as one of them because it denies my Lord!

Jesus has given me everything. He has given me unconditional love, undeserved mercy, unfathomable grace, unending patience, unequivocal purpose, unspeakable joy, an undeniable identity, and a confident unquenchable hope for an eternal future that is unparalleled.

It is more than obvious to me that there is a disconnect between what I call myself - a passionate follower of Christ - and how I live my life. The closest I can come to a pat on the back (for what that's worth!) is to recognize that my life is more similar to Jesus' life today than it was twenty years ago, which means I'm moving in the right direction, albeit at a snail's pace. But there is still too much sight and not enough faith. "We walk by faith, not by sight."

"Let us throw off everything that hinders, and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race set out before us." The throwing off never ends.

And why would I want it to if it brings me closer to Jesus?

Sunday, June 6, 2010

What I Want

If I were asked to make a list of all the things in life I want, I wonder what would be on it. Right now I look out the window above my computer and gaze upon the biggest crape myrtle I've ever seen, in full glorious bloom. Behind those luscious flowering branches is a backdrop of more green from neighboring trees - the kind of green that in itself is a soothing balm. And the canvas behind it all is the clear blue of sky that reaches all the way to heaven. My eyes have been blessed to see oceans, mountains, canyons, waterfalls, rainbows, wildlife and even the Great Wall of China, but none of those sights have been more satisfying than this.

At this moment there are background sounds that I can't tune out, nor would I want to. A sleeping dogosaurus on the kitchen floor snores in rhythm with her peaceful breathing, and a daughter and husband chatter and laugh together over a game at the table in the next room. There are symphonies and birdsongs and praise music that bring delight to my ears, but none are more satisfying than this.

We met some good friends at a favorite restaurant for lunch today. The meal was delicious, but no tastier or more satisfying than the meals we enjoy right here at our own table, prepared by our own hands in our own kitchen. The simple grilled chicken, broccoli casserole, Caesar salad and apple pie that graced our table two days ago have never been surpassed by any meal that has passed over my tongue, regardless of the continent or company.

Yesterday morning while taking a walk through the neighborhood I was compelled to stop and inhale the sweetness of a magnolia bloom within reach. Only the day before, I had gone out of my way to get my nose within smelling distance of a hedge of gardenias, breathing in the scent for a few blissful moments. But on occasion, when the air currents are just so, I will catch a gentle whiff of honeysuckle wafting through my backyard. Although I can't see it and don't know how far it has travelled before reaching me, the heavenly perfume stops me in my tracks. Honeysuckle may not be showy or highly sought after as a desirable addition to the home garden, but when its scent passes through, all other perfumes temporarily cease to matter.

Throughout the course of any typical week I will enjoy the hugs of a variety of people, all of whom are special to me in some way. Old friends, new friends, happy friends, sad friends, friends celebrating special events and friends just glad to reconnect. My life would be poorer by far without these friends and their hugs. But the hugs that bring the most satisfaction are the ones that take place under my own roof every day, recommitting ourselves to one another for better or for worse.

So now that I've given it some consideration, I realize I don't need to make that list because everything I want in this life is right here. The only thing that can be better than what I already have is heaven itself.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Inlets

Writing is an outlet. No clanging bells or dramatic light shows are likely to accompany that statement. But in the last twenty-four hours I've spent a lot of quality time purging bookshelves, and it has caused me to relive my entire adult life. If you are not a reader of books you may not get it, but I experienced something akin to an epiphany today as I realized that books have been the channels through which the shape of my whole life has been formed. They are my inlets.

Through books on marriage I have been presented with truths that have shaped my thinking and my decisions and my behavior in the most important human relationship I will ever have. Through books on parenting I have been exposed to principles and creative ideas that have guided me mostly unscathed through the minefield of childrearing. Books on knowing God and living out my relationship with Jesus have enlightened me, instructed me, encouraged me, excited me, convicted me, and challenged me. Books on educating children who are gifted, children who are resistant, children who have special needs, children who love to learn, children who do everything in their power to sabotage your efforts - well, as I wrote in my last blog, I made it to the finish line where retirement awaited, thanks in large part to the wisdom gleaned from these books.

Of course, the deepest and widest and purest of all inlets has been God's Word, and the truths that flow on the currents of that Living Water will always have the most immediate, profound, and lasting effects because they go straight to the spiritual veins. But as I handled hundreds of books with my life history clinging to them along with prodigious amounts of dust, I realized that there is no way to humanly sort out what parts of me came from where. The inlets run into each other. Their waters mingle together and morph into brand new life-giving substances as they wash through the unique qualities of who I am and the life I have been given to live.

If the inlets are the feeders of my soul, then I am reminded to choose carefully where I paddle. Evidence of pollution is all the sign I need to stay out. I am what I read.