It's a balmy 32º (feels like 24º) according to MSN Weather, which usually means it is several degrees cooler at my house. Snow is falling again and beginning to stick to rooftops. I woke up this morning feeling...well...off. You know the feeling when you wonder, am I sick? Am I getting sick? But, despite feeling bad, since you aren't puking, and don't have mucus escaping through facial orifices, you go to work anyway, hoping you are simply being paranoid and that if not, that no one will catch something from you. Never mind that the office has been a breeding ground of germs from other sick people coming in and out, yours would no doubt be the toxic ones.
Anyway, I got up (late) and dragged my dressed and groomed but unfed self into work. I was pretty sure I should eat something so I stopped at a drive-through and picked up a grease sandwich. Got to work and upon opening the bag and feeling a protest in my gut decided that I wasn't quite ready to eat. The boss had brought in some lovelty pumpkin bread, but even that was giving me that airsick, carsick, seasick feeling. Not a good sign.
When do you give up? When do you decide not to be a trooper? I've never had much admiration for those folks who work through the flu, nasty horrid colds, intestinal bugs, etc., displaying their mettle but undermining my health and that of the others in the office. If you think you might be contagious, isn't it the kind thing, the loving thing, not to pass it along? Or do we so value that type-A driven person that we strive to keep on plugging no matter what?
By 9:30 I was pretty sure I was sick, and by 10 I had passed on my interviews, cleared my desk and tended the fires that needed tending and was on my way home. And here I've been, asleep for the last 5 hours, a sure sign of something not being right.
Where do you fall when it comes to the sometimes opposing responsibilities toward your job and to the health of your co-workers?
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Which dog am I?
Something about my new dog, Bear, has been gnawing at me lately. Over time it has become apparent that this dog, a yellow lab mix does not seem to be developing any real kind of attachment to me, not in the same way as Barney, who had to be euthanized last summer. Barney adored me. He wanted to be with me all the time—not because I did anything for him in particular, but simply because he wanted to be with me. He loved being in my presence.
Bear wants something from me almost every minute I am with him. I can almost hear his thoughts:
I think he would go off with anyone without a backward glance if only they had a ball.
This has been a grave disappointment to me. I miss the adoration and love I got from my Barney. Bear is a good dog. There’s nothing really wrong with him, he’s not nervous or mean, is not a biter, doesn’t beg, doesn’t tear things up…he just doesn’t display the kind of affection for me that I long for.
As I’ve pondered this, I’ve wondered if that isn’t how we are with God. He longs for a friendship, for the loving adoration of his people, but so often we just want something from him. We don’t want to spend time in his presence because we love and adore him, because we worship him, but because he has the ball, whatever that looks like for us. Do we weary him with our impatient, whining requests for the object of our longing? Or does he provide us good things anyway, but have a sadness in his heart, a longing, for our adoration?
I’ve just been thinking….
Bear wants something from me almost every minute I am with him. I can almost hear his thoughts:
Ball. Ball. Ball. Ball. Throw the ball. Where’s my
ball? Ball. The Ball. Want the ball. Throw the ball.
Throw the ball. THROW THE BALL! THE BALL. BALL!
BALL! BALL! BALL! Get my ball. Throw my ball.
Ball. Ball. Ball. THE BALL! I WANT THE BALL!
I think he would go off with anyone without a backward glance if only they had a ball.
This has been a grave disappointment to me. I miss the adoration and love I got from my Barney. Bear is a good dog. There’s nothing really wrong with him, he’s not nervous or mean, is not a biter, doesn’t beg, doesn’t tear things up…he just doesn’t display the kind of affection for me that I long for.
As I’ve pondered this, I’ve wondered if that isn’t how we are with God. He longs for a friendship, for the loving adoration of his people, but so often we just want something from him. We don’t want to spend time in his presence because we love and adore him, because we worship him, but because he has the ball, whatever that looks like for us. Do we weary him with our impatient, whining requests for the object of our longing? Or does he provide us good things anyway, but have a sadness in his heart, a longing, for our adoration?
I’ve just been thinking….
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Old Photos
I know, I know. You're probably one of those people who never have photos sitting in a camera that you haven't printed. You never have a disposable camera sitting around waiting to be developed and the last time you saw 35mm film no one even knew who Monica Lewinsky was...
Well, that's not me. I finally took in about 5 disposable cameras and rolls of film, wondering what was on them. Was one of them the missing roll from our Italy trip 4 years ago? Would one of them contain pictures of the kids when they were little?
The first set of pictures I opened had pictures of my dead dog, Barney. Oh, how I miss him. Another set had pictures of a friend who died a few years ago. There were pictures of construction projects I no longer remember, and pictures of Craig on one of his visits home, and pics of my beautiful wallpaper. In the pics you can't see the messed up seams, the bad cuts, the peeling. You only see the beauty.
Life is filled with these kind of moments. Memories of good times, good friends, good dogs, and times that bring both tears to your eyes and a smile to your face. Now I have to wonder where on earth that roll of Italy pics went to... There were some wonderful shots of the fountain near the main bus/train terminal in Rome. Oh, well. At least I still remember it. My memories include sights AND sounds and smells. It includes the feel of the spray on my face and the cooling night breeze on my skin. I'm pretty sure the pics don't include that. Wouldn't it be fun if they did?
Well, that's not me. I finally took in about 5 disposable cameras and rolls of film, wondering what was on them. Was one of them the missing roll from our Italy trip 4 years ago? Would one of them contain pictures of the kids when they were little?
The first set of pictures I opened had pictures of my dead dog, Barney. Oh, how I miss him. Another set had pictures of a friend who died a few years ago. There were pictures of construction projects I no longer remember, and pictures of Craig on one of his visits home, and pics of my beautiful wallpaper. In the pics you can't see the messed up seams, the bad cuts, the peeling. You only see the beauty.
Life is filled with these kind of moments. Memories of good times, good friends, good dogs, and times that bring both tears to your eyes and a smile to your face. Now I have to wonder where on earth that roll of Italy pics went to... There were some wonderful shots of the fountain near the main bus/train terminal in Rome. Oh, well. At least I still remember it. My memories include sights AND sounds and smells. It includes the feel of the spray on my face and the cooling night breeze on my skin. I'm pretty sure the pics don't include that. Wouldn't it be fun if they did?
Saturday, January 05, 2008
One Body Divided
I've been troubled about some things I see in the church. If we are all "the" church, as in one body, one bride of Christ, why does this group think they are better than the rest of the groups which gather in other places? I'm not being clear, so let me restate this.
In the tradition I grew up in, the "denomination" for lack of a better word, people often said that we met in "the New Testament way" and some were even overheard to say that they were glad they didn't go to those other churches where they didn't teach the truth. The pervasive attitude seemed to be that of pride that we have the corner on truth. What relief people felt that we had the proper interpretation of Scripture and what horror we felt at the thought that we might have wound up with one of those "other" churches where they didn't know the truth. The air of superiority that many displayed was nauseating. Of particular contempt were the charismatics and those churches that used contemporary music, guitars and electrical equipment and "didn't show proper respect", by which it was meant that they didn't dress up, that some women wore pants, some men jeans and that they didn't follow the rules for dress that they believed scripture ordained. The service, they felt, did not have appropriate formality and seriousness.
I now attend a church that uses contemporary music, guitars, keyboard, drums, electric guitars and bass, and makes every attempt to put biblical teaching in the language of today. While I love this church, I also love my old church and find that there is some of the same attitude here. There is a disdain for traditional churches and their members, for hymns and even old Christmas carols that disturbs me. In my old church there was a disdain for the young and for a passionate pursuit of God that wasn't always restrained and dignified (and where is that in scripture?) In this church, I hear (though not from the leadership) a contempt for traditional denominational churches and a lack of understanding and respect for the Christians of yesterday and the faith of our fathers.
The music that is so often disdained on both sides is the outpouring of hearts that love God. Why shouldn't we all rejoice in that? The sacrifice of the past generations should be respected by the current, and the passions of the young should bring joy to the hearts of their elders. There was a time when those hymns were considered as scandalous as the new music of today. There was a time when the church was horrified by musical instruments, by parts, by the joining of voice and instruments, by the voices of women. People whose hearts were filled with their love of Christ defied those standards, not out of rebellion, but out of love and passion. That same passion and love rules in the hearts of the young.
The young reject not just the restrictive forms of the traditional churches, but the members themselves, not recognizing the preservation of the gospel by those who have gone before, by their sacrificial giving that allowed missions to the furthest parts of the earth. They seem unaware of the hours of labor, the years of devotion and service their older brothers and sisters have given to the cause of Christ.
We spend so much time concerned with our own comfort and our own likes and dislikes that we aren't as concerned about the church as a whole as we should be. Whether we like it or not, the gray-haired wrinkled fuddy-duddy and the rainbow-haired, tattoed, pierced kids in black tees and jeans are brothers and sisters. We are one. One body, one bride, one church.
In the tradition I grew up in, the "denomination" for lack of a better word, people often said that we met in "the New Testament way" and some were even overheard to say that they were glad they didn't go to those other churches where they didn't teach the truth. The pervasive attitude seemed to be that of pride that we have the corner on truth. What relief people felt that we had the proper interpretation of Scripture and what horror we felt at the thought that we might have wound up with one of those "other" churches where they didn't know the truth. The air of superiority that many displayed was nauseating. Of particular contempt were the charismatics and those churches that used contemporary music, guitars and electrical equipment and "didn't show proper respect", by which it was meant that they didn't dress up, that some women wore pants, some men jeans and that they didn't follow the rules for dress that they believed scripture ordained. The service, they felt, did not have appropriate formality and seriousness.
I now attend a church that uses contemporary music, guitars, keyboard, drums, electric guitars and bass, and makes every attempt to put biblical teaching in the language of today. While I love this church, I also love my old church and find that there is some of the same attitude here. There is a disdain for traditional churches and their members, for hymns and even old Christmas carols that disturbs me. In my old church there was a disdain for the young and for a passionate pursuit of God that wasn't always restrained and dignified (and where is that in scripture?) In this church, I hear (though not from the leadership) a contempt for traditional denominational churches and a lack of understanding and respect for the Christians of yesterday and the faith of our fathers.
The music that is so often disdained on both sides is the outpouring of hearts that love God. Why shouldn't we all rejoice in that? The sacrifice of the past generations should be respected by the current, and the passions of the young should bring joy to the hearts of their elders. There was a time when those hymns were considered as scandalous as the new music of today. There was a time when the church was horrified by musical instruments, by parts, by the joining of voice and instruments, by the voices of women. People whose hearts were filled with their love of Christ defied those standards, not out of rebellion, but out of love and passion. That same passion and love rules in the hearts of the young.
The young reject not just the restrictive forms of the traditional churches, but the members themselves, not recognizing the preservation of the gospel by those who have gone before, by their sacrificial giving that allowed missions to the furthest parts of the earth. They seem unaware of the hours of labor, the years of devotion and service their older brothers and sisters have given to the cause of Christ.
We spend so much time concerned with our own comfort and our own likes and dislikes that we aren't as concerned about the church as a whole as we should be. Whether we like it or not, the gray-haired wrinkled fuddy-duddy and the rainbow-haired, tattoed, pierced kids in black tees and jeans are brothers and sisters. We are one. One body, one bride, one church.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Missed Lesson
The preacher claimed financial abundance
was promised to all who believed
Ignoring the promise of trials
Jesus gave to those who are his.
He claims we all get health! and wealth!
Right here! Right now! For you and me.
But Jesus (who is our example)
had nowhere to lay his head.
No savings, no stocks, no bank account,
With heaven his only home.
His friends would turn and deny him,
His body abused and torn
But the preacher claims there is none of that
for those who rightly are his.
What about Stephen, the stoned one,
Or Paul who was beated and jailed,
Peter who died upside-down on a cross,
John the Baptist beheaded and scorned?
Can you tell me how Preacher misses that?
Is it deliberate blindness he grasps?
Does he willingly knowingly teach a lie?
If he does I can only wonder why? Why?
was promised to all who believed
Ignoring the promise of trials
Jesus gave to those who are his.
He claims we all get health! and wealth!
Right here! Right now! For you and me.
But Jesus (who is our example)
had nowhere to lay his head.
No savings, no stocks, no bank account,
With heaven his only home.
His friends would turn and deny him,
His body abused and torn
But the preacher claims there is none of that
for those who rightly are his.
What about Stephen, the stoned one,
Or Paul who was beated and jailed,
Peter who died upside-down on a cross,
John the Baptist beheaded and scorned?
Can you tell me how Preacher misses that?
Is it deliberate blindness he grasps?
Does he willingly knowingly teach a lie?
If he does I can only wonder why? Why?
Listening to Others
I was thinking the other day...someone I know has offered advice which I am not taking and that makes them really irritated and they make some snippy comments. I sat for a while thinking about what would happen if I went along with them simply to appease them and lose their sneering. Imagining I had gone along with their advice I wrote the following:
I did what they wanted because to resist what they believed to be wise earned their contempt. In doing so I resisted my own wisdom and earned my own contempt. Of the two, mine is harsher.
This is how we resist the temptation to go along simply to get along. The contempt of others is rarely as hard to take as our own, but sometimes the pain of someone's critical remarks causes us to do something we believe is foolish or wrong unless we evaluate what is in our heart, our mind, our own conscience. Surely there is a time for striving to earn the high opinion of another, but never at the expense of our own self-respect.
I did what they wanted because to resist what they believed to be wise earned their contempt. In doing so I resisted my own wisdom and earned my own contempt. Of the two, mine is harsher.
This is how we resist the temptation to go along simply to get along. The contempt of others is rarely as hard to take as our own, but sometimes the pain of someone's critical remarks causes us to do something we believe is foolish or wrong unless we evaluate what is in our heart, our mind, our own conscience. Surely there is a time for striving to earn the high opinion of another, but never at the expense of our own self-respect.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Labor of Love
Chinese man carves 6,000-step ladder of love on mountainside
IANS
Saturday, November 11, 2006 20:49 IST
BEIJING: The tale of a 70-year-old Chinese man who hand-carved more than 6,000 stairs up a mountain for his 80-year-old wife has won the award for China’s greatest love story of 2006.The story began half a century ago, when 20-year-old Liu Guojiang fell in love with a widowed mother, Xu Chaoqing. In a twist worthy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, friends and relatives criticised the relationship because of the age difference and the fact that Xu already had children.
Desperate to escape market gossip and the scorn of their communities, the pair eloped to live in a cave in Jiangjin county, which is in southwest China’s Chongqing municipality. Now the local government is attempting to supply electricity to the cave, which has been the couple’s home for the last 50 years.
Their story came atop a list of China’s top 10 love stories in a contest event organised by the Chinese Women Weekly, which collected tales from around the country since July.
At the beginning, life was harsh and Xu felt that she had tied Liu down. She says she repeatedly asked him: “Are you regretful?” Liu always replied: “As long as we are industrious, life will improve.”
Liu and his wife were not present at the award ceremony due to
their age, but their son Liu Mingsheng came with a kerosene lamp that his father had made from an ink bottle.“My parents have lived in seclusion for more than 50 years because of their love for each other. They had no electricity and my father made kerosene lamps to light up lives,” the son said. “My mother seldom goes down the mountain but my father cut the 6,000-plus stairs for her convenience. It’s a ladder of love.”
I first heard this story on the radio on a day when I was feeling kind of blue. It choked me up to think of the kind of love that does this, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for myself as I thought of this man's labor of love and that I can't even get someone to change a lightbulb for me.
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