Grace

“We communicate grace to one another by holding space for people when they are hurt or terrified, instead of trying to fix them, or manage their emotions for them. We offer ourselves as silent companionship, or gentle listening when someone feels very alone. We get people glasses of water when they are thirsty.”
~ Anne Lamott, in an interview with Amazon.com

(holding space. thank you.)

8th Day of Thanksgiving: From Point A to B

Yesterday I was privileged to sleep a little later. Quiver is normally an early riser anyway, and he was kind enough to keep a handle on the boys’ excitement while I slept. In case you’re wondering, two preschool boys whispering to one another “Shhh! Mommy’s asleep” is never as quiet as they intend it to be. But, I always love the conversations I hear through our walls when I’m in that almost-awake state.

Saturday’s conversation from the bathroom involved Quiver telling Little Drummer Boy the story of MY life over shaving and teeth brushing. I’m not sure how it started, but it was a much-simplified account of places and houses and times. LDB seemed to assume that he was present in Mommy’s tummy for everything before the world he now knows. I couldn’t help but smile as Quiver quickly attempted to move the conversation along from the explanation that no, LDB was not actually in Mommy’s tummy for the whole of my life. “Where was I?” If anybody wants to take that one, please go right ahead.

I can tell that Little Drummer Boy has been trying to wrap his mind around time and places lately. The boys and I recently drove through my hometown on our way somewhere, and he was amazed that Mommy lived there as a girl. He was amazed that Mommy ever lived anywhere but our house. He was amazed that Mommy was ever anything other than what he knows me to be. Sometimes I’m amazed myself, and when confronted with those other things, it can be quite a heart-searching ride. Last week he asked me WHEN I was a girl. My first reaction was:  17 seconds ago, never, too many years gone by, and all of the above. My answer was “a while back.” That’s the best I could do at a weary 10:16pm when all the really profound questions come out of his mind and all the really dumbfounded answers come out of mine.

At their young ages, my gifts are sort of in a perpetual state of now that I sometimes envy. Last weekend’s trip to the zoo could just as easily have been this morning. Saturday can always be tomorrow morning. They are slowly growing to treasure experiences, to remember them and place them in context, to see their impact on the structure of life. I find myself growing in that same way again.

This Thanksgiving season, I’ve been looking at the signposts in my life–those moments and situations, like the crescent moon, when I realized “I don’t have the whole picture, but I know it’s there.” Putting those experiences in context, I can see how much bigger a life is that one single decision, than a series of decisions–how much bigger God is. The path from point A to B sometimes detours through points C to Z, and we are quick to call the pitstops “mistakes.” We find ourselves somewhere we never thought we’d be, and in assessing the destination, we overlook the path.

I am so thankful that God is a God who reveals Himself often most eloquently and immediately in times of wandering. I’m so thankful that He isn’t found only at the destination, but at all points in between.

The song is true. Often the times you lose your way are the times when you find out who you really are and what you’re about. When you realize you’ve overlooked something, sometimes you learn how to really see. The “wrong turns” in my life are moving me toward a more humble way of seeing the world and the people in it–a real view that can’t coexist with cliches and simplistic truisms, a view where faith MUST meet the road. It’s a blessing that’s been hard-wrestled. And I’m thankful for it.

This-worldliness

“I discovered later, and am still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. By this-worldliness, I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes, failures. In so doing we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously not our own suffering but those of God in the world. That, I think, is faith.”

~Dietrich Bonhoeffer
(thanks to my friend, Julie — one of her favorites)

MIPOTW: Temperamental Ideology

Shock. My last Most Interesting Phrase of the Week was posted on March 23. I’d say I’m a little behind. It’s not that I haven’t seen anything interesting–quite the opposite.  More accurately, I’ve been so interested in so many things that my mind’s been a little muddled.  You’ve heard it before. It’s a chronic problem that sometimes results in fruit rotting on the vine, creatively speaking.  But, MIPOTW is back with a thought-provoking vengeance–so much so that this one is showing up in the big wide column in addition to its typical spot in the wander zone to your right.  Why the special treatment, you ask?  Well, it’s because this one relates to my 2009 theme word concept, harmony.

The phrase: “It’s not about ideology.  It’s about temperament.”

I heard it while watching a recent segment of Charlie Rose on PBS.  It’s a quote from Joe Scarborough, co-host of Morning Joe on MSNBC.  His subject was the Republican Party in “crisis”, and I agree. But, the statement prompted my thinking on wider issues of temperamental ideology.

Ideology is temperamental.  Try as we might, we can’t always fit it neatly into every situation and make it come out all pretty please with sugar on top. Ideology is a tough nut.  Sometimes it’s the life of the party. Sometimes it’s a loner. Sometimes it doesn’t play well with others. Sometimes it walks softly. Sometimes it carries a big ‘ol stick and doesn’t mind whomping somebody’s noggin with it. Ideology is a squirly beast.

My handy dictionary.com tells me that ideology is “the body of doctrine, myth, belief, etc., that guides an individual, social movement, institution, class, or large group.”  And, I suppose the large group status there gives ideology its particular tendencies toward watering down, blind leading the blind, or zealot crusading as individual iterations emerge.

I started reading a book this weekend called The Signature of Jesus by Brennan Manning. The introduction began a dialogue on the challenge of why beliefs don’t always play out in actions. It highlighted the difference between belief and faith (half-baked for now, but more to come), and reminded me of the harmony (and sometimes disharmony) found in temperamental ideology.

I’ve been pondering beliefs quite a bit of late–in particular, maintaining harmony in beliefs across a variety of situations and social issues. “It’s about temperament.” Trusty dictionary.com tells me that in addition to “the combination of mental, physical, and emotional traits of a person,” temperament also refers to the musical “tuning of a keyboard instrument… so that the instrument may be played in all keys without further tuning.” It’s early meanings include “to mix properly” like in tempera paint. [music and paint--two things I can easily get behind] Ideology in harmony with living–where the rubber meets the road–requires some fine-tuning in order to be played equally across any musical key.  It requires proper mixing. Apt combinations. Stretching out the tiniest variations from the pure tone of truth. The smallest additions and subtractions.

Don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not searching for an all-inclusive amalgamation of beliefs where anything and everything goes and where to be is to be true. That doesn’t work for me.  I’m talking about defying situational ethics and beliefs in favor of standing behind true God-defined realities that stem from the heart of an all-powerful, all-knowing, ever-now, ever-loving righteous Creator.  Tall order.  But, I’m more convinced each day that if it’s true at all and true for me, it’s true for everyone. If it was ever relevant, it’s still relevant. If it can be mine, it can be anyone’s. If it works here, it will work there.  And if it doesn’t, likely it’s my own temperament about the issue that needs to be brought into harmony with the Flesh-clothed Word’s intent.

Still Dad, and Still God

One month ago today, my dad had his stroke.  Although he doesn’t have some of the same skills he did (yet), Dad is still the same dad he was one month ago plus a day.  And, God is still the same God he was on February 7.

My dad and my family are in a season of change–again.  He’s been in the hospital for the last month undergoing physical and occupational therapy to regain movement in his left leg and arm which were primarily affected.  We and the doctors are very hopeful that in time he will be able to do many of the things he’s always done.  Each day he is making improvements and becoming more like “himself”, shifting again the reality of what his daily life is like.  Regardless of how close he gets to his full potential with additional therapy and sheer will of character, life has inevitably changed.  Dad’s can dos have changed.  His schedule has changed.  His independence has changed.  Both Dad and Mom’s jobs have changed.  How they spend their time has changed.  Where they can go has changed.  The scale of their lives has changed, time and energy focused on more basic tasks.  The appearance of their home has changed.  Their ability to visit in my home has changed.  The ease of holding my children has changed.  Their presence in our lives has changed.

Throughout this month, two thoughts have persisted in rising above the din of confusion and adjustment, of sickness and care-giving, of schedules and sleeplessness.  Despite the changes, a family is a family regardless of time, abilities, presence and the space between.  And, we will remain a family.  We will adjust, and life and love will continue.

And this:
“I, the Lord, do not change; therefore, you, O sons of Jacob, are not consumed.” (malachi 3:6)

Right now, Dad can’t move as he once did.  But, God is still moving in strong support of His own. Therefore, we are not consumed by helplessness.

Though we are beginning to see movement in his shoulder, Dad’s arm has been greatly weakened.  But, the same outstretched arm of God that made the heavens and the earth is still reaching.  Therefore, we are not consumed by impossibilities.

In the days after the stroke, Dad had a slight slurred speech that has thankfully subsided.  But, the words of God were and are crisp and sharp.  They stand forever.  Therefore, we are not consumed by the silent unknown.

Next week, Dad will come home sitting in a wheelchair, at least for a time.  But, God is still sitting on the same throne of righteousness He inhabited 29 days ago.  Therefore, we are not consumed by paralyzing fear.

It will be some time before Dad may be able to enjoy the same activities he once did.  But, the uncommon joy of God is our strength.  Therefore, we are not consumed by sorrow.

Dad may not be able to work again.  But, God has not stopped working in us for His good pleasure.  Therefore, we are not consumed by inactivity.

Dad is slowly relearning to put one foot in front of the other.  But, the rock of our God still enables sure footing.  Therefore, we are not consumed by dark stumbling.

The comfortable assumption of a parent I’ve relied upon to be strong has been weakened.  But, the God of comfort is still the abundant Father of mercies.  Therefore, we are not consumed by anxious unrest.

God has not changed. He remains. Our healer. Our protector. Our light. His love and His reach will continue as it always has.  In this, alone, are we steadied from the consuming tide of change.