I wrote this week's column today. When I first started at the paper, I wanted my column to be a movie review column, but I couldn't get any local theaters to give me free or discounted tickets as a member of the press. So I occasionally wrote about whatever I was reading, but after a couple months it became just a place that I muse, much like this blog but a bit less personal and on a weekly basis.
Today, I wrote about exercising and how it's possibly the only time I'm truly living in the moment in a way that I can choose and control. I think I live in the moment at various times, but I don't know it's going to happen because it's based on a conversation or the indefinable quality of a really great party or just the feeling of opening the door on a surprisingly warm or chilly morning. But when I exercise, I am focused on the present in a predictable way. That's part of the appeal. Because my mind is unoccupied when I run or bike or swim, it is not infrequent that I spend part of that time fretting or planning the future or reliving the past, but most of that hour or so is spent attentive and attuned.
I say hello to babies in strollers and dogs and their owners. I sometimes sing very quietly to myself to make sure I'm really out of breath. When I need to get something out of my mind, I focus on each of my five senses one at a time: what do I see? What do I hear? and so on. When I'm in my room, in the car, at work, or with friends, I usually have a lot to pay attention to and a lot to think about. That's no less the case when I'm on the Loop or the bike, but the repetitive motion and the lack of mental stimuli bring my mind to a very different place. For once, when I see people, I'm not thinking of how they perceive me or where they've been or where they're going. I'm just taking everything in at face value and moving on to whatever captures my attention next.
Not everything I take in is pleasant. There's a Band-Aid stuck to the sidewalk that's been there for months, lots of dog poop, car alarms, and the garbage truck. But I'm thankful for all of it because I'm thankful to be outside, to be healthy enough to run or bike, and thankful for the experience of every moment, especially the ones I really and truly notice.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Choices, Plus McCullers
I'm going to Austin on Thursday night to visit the seminary there and coming back Saturday. I am very happy about this. Very.
Until I check a Seagrove blog and am reminded that this weekend is the Celebration of Spring in Seagrove, when many of the potteries have kiln openings on the same day, which I might be at if I were in North Carolina instead of Texas. I would have been like, "Eh, you can't win 'em all," until the blogger said his wife would be making chocolate bread and leek and potato soup for his kiln opening. I have had this chocolate bread. Now my happiness about Austin is tinged with a distinct undertone of "Dang it!"
It's hard to accept that I can't do every fun thing ever. Quelle travestie! At least this one is kind of a no-brainer. Following God's call to seminary and the related trips, paperwork, and activities take precedence, chocolate bread or no chocolate bread.
I just finished listening to The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. Let me tell you something. This book is a masterpiece. I do not use that term lightly. Well, I do that sometimes, once in reference to 8 Mile, but this time I am serious. I haven't been so touched by a novel in a long time. It's about a deaf and mute man named John Singer in a small Southern town and the people who are drawn to him--a girl who's just entering adolescence, a restaurant owner whose wife dies in the course of the book, a new guy in town with political dreams, and the only black doctor around. They all talk to him as they talk to no one else. He understands because he reads lips but only rarely answers. The other people in town like and respect him, but these four hold him particularly close. Only once do they all meet in his room, and then only by accident.
I like the book for many reasons--the writing style, the very real characters, the way it is full of dramatic events but lacks drama--but one of the main reasons is Singer's status as a God figure. I don't know to what extent McCullers intended this, but the way the people talk to Singer is so much like prayer. It's private, unlike talking with others, intensely personal, and not usually done in hopes of a response. The black people talk of him as one of the few white people who can be trusted, and white folks also see him as respectable and trustworthy. He buys a radio so his guests can listen to it--something that's completely useless to him as a deaf man but that he knows will make them happy. Maybe someday I will read the book and keep track of the parallels, because these are only a few, and I missed a lot of the book on CD while paying attention to the road or just singing to myself or thinking of something else. I love it when literature has something to do with faith, the more subtle the better. I'm thinking it's not a book for everyone, but if you like to read literary novels, and especially if you like Southern Gothic style (like Eudora Welty, Flannery O'Connor, and Harper Lee), then you should definitely give The Heart is a Lonely Hunter a try.
Until I check a Seagrove blog and am reminded that this weekend is the Celebration of Spring in Seagrove, when many of the potteries have kiln openings on the same day, which I might be at if I were in North Carolina instead of Texas. I would have been like, "Eh, you can't win 'em all," until the blogger said his wife would be making chocolate bread and leek and potato soup for his kiln opening. I have had this chocolate bread. Now my happiness about Austin is tinged with a distinct undertone of "Dang it!"
It's hard to accept that I can't do every fun thing ever. Quelle travestie! At least this one is kind of a no-brainer. Following God's call to seminary and the related trips, paperwork, and activities take precedence, chocolate bread or no chocolate bread.
I just finished listening to The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers. Let me tell you something. This book is a masterpiece. I do not use that term lightly. Well, I do that sometimes, once in reference to 8 Mile, but this time I am serious. I haven't been so touched by a novel in a long time. It's about a deaf and mute man named John Singer in a small Southern town and the people who are drawn to him--a girl who's just entering adolescence, a restaurant owner whose wife dies in the course of the book, a new guy in town with political dreams, and the only black doctor around. They all talk to him as they talk to no one else. He understands because he reads lips but only rarely answers. The other people in town like and respect him, but these four hold him particularly close. Only once do they all meet in his room, and then only by accident.
I like the book for many reasons--the writing style, the very real characters, the way it is full of dramatic events but lacks drama--but one of the main reasons is Singer's status as a God figure. I don't know to what extent McCullers intended this, but the way the people talk to Singer is so much like prayer. It's private, unlike talking with others, intensely personal, and not usually done in hopes of a response. The black people talk of him as one of the few white people who can be trusted, and white folks also see him as respectable and trustworthy. He buys a radio so his guests can listen to it--something that's completely useless to him as a deaf man but that he knows will make them happy. Maybe someday I will read the book and keep track of the parallels, because these are only a few, and I missed a lot of the book on CD while paying attention to the road or just singing to myself or thinking of something else. I love it when literature has something to do with faith, the more subtle the better. I'm thinking it's not a book for everyone, but if you like to read literary novels, and especially if you like Southern Gothic style (like Eudora Welty, Flannery O'Connor, and Harper Lee), then you should definitely give The Heart is a Lonely Hunter a try.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Pottery Sermon
Today was United Methodist Women Sunday, meaning the UMW was in charge of all aspects of the traditional services at church. Instead of having one of our pastors or a UMW members do a sermon, they had a special guest who made a large vase before our eyes. As she potted, she talked about the parallels in our spiritual lives: the need for sharpness at some times and gentleness at others, the concept of centering and balance, and all the different types of vessels that are necessary and serve different but equally valuable purposes. It was a very, very cool thing, and it put me in a distinctly Seagrove mood.
Last night, we had a ladies' night fondue party, which was pretty much the best thing ever. And tonight we are having a regular ol' youth group for the first time in at least three weeks. This return to routine feels very good. I'm loving The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter on CD, Dad is home from the hospital and sounds great, and I booked my ticket to Austin to see the seminary there. After some roughness, things are looking up at last.
I spent over two hours yesterday at Panera reading, writing a long-postponed letter, and flirting with all the cute babies and toddlers that are there on Saturdays. Later, at the fondue party, we talked about the necessity of time alone. One couple takes turns leaving for a weekend once a month. Another woman said she always loves being alone but often dreads it before it happens. Having had such a great time at Panera, not exactly alone but not performing for anyone or trying to make an impression, I knew precisely the feeling and the importance of taking time for oneself. Praise God for the opportunities we have to do so.
Last night, we had a ladies' night fondue party, which was pretty much the best thing ever. And tonight we are having a regular ol' youth group for the first time in at least three weeks. This return to routine feels very good. I'm loving The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter on CD, Dad is home from the hospital and sounds great, and I booked my ticket to Austin to see the seminary there. After some roughness, things are looking up at last.
I spent over two hours yesterday at Panera reading, writing a long-postponed letter, and flirting with all the cute babies and toddlers that are there on Saturdays. Later, at the fondue party, we talked about the necessity of time alone. One couple takes turns leaving for a weekend once a month. Another woman said she always loves being alone but often dreads it before it happens. Having had such a great time at Panera, not exactly alone but not performing for anyone or trying to make an impression, I knew precisely the feeling and the importance of taking time for oneself. Praise God for the opportunities we have to do so.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sowin' 'n' Reapin'
This week, I feel like I've sown all I have and reaped nothing but exhaustion, tension of every kind, harsh words from almost everyone, and five nosebleeds in four days. Three of those happened while I was either bending over or blowing my nose, so I'm not as worried as I would be if they were all spontaneous.
Anyway, it's been hard. The worst week, and a couple of the worst days, I've had in a long, long time. I'm lucky I haven't had to weather much worse, but reminding myself of that only makes it marginally easier.
God tells us that we will sometimes sow where others will reap, see all our hard work go to someone else. But he also says that sometimes it's the opposite. Sometimes, we will live in houses we did not build. We will eat olives from trees we did not plant. While we don't always reap exactly what we sow, and certainly not in the timetable we planned for, it does work out in the end. Hard work does pay off. Sometimes we get a prize for nothing. While I've never taken much consolation from statements about the future, it does mean something. Not that I'm going to get up from this kicking my heels, but at least I might go to bed without crying.
Anyway, it's been hard. The worst week, and a couple of the worst days, I've had in a long, long time. I'm lucky I haven't had to weather much worse, but reminding myself of that only makes it marginally easier.
God tells us that we will sometimes sow where others will reap, see all our hard work go to someone else. But he also says that sometimes it's the opposite. Sometimes, we will live in houses we did not build. We will eat olives from trees we did not plant. While we don't always reap exactly what we sow, and certainly not in the timetable we planned for, it does work out in the end. Hard work does pay off. Sometimes we get a prize for nothing. While I've never taken much consolation from statements about the future, it does mean something. Not that I'm going to get up from this kicking my heels, but at least I might go to bed without crying.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Give and Take
Unfortunately, spending time and energy on something means you won't have as much for something else. This means we have to make choices. If I read or go for a run in the morning instead of getting right to work, I will pay for it in the afternoon by being rushed and probably a little angry. If I work first in the morning, I often end up working all day anyway and don't have time for some other good thing. This usually makes me feel defeated, like I can't win or get it right.
The trick, not that I've mastered it or even begun to practice, is to give loving attention to the task at hand no matter what it is. "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men," says Colossians 3:23. Many translations say to do it "heartily." I like this idea. It sort of says, not that work makes up for time with God or can take the place of it, but that you can turn anything into a God-glorifying activity. Almost anything. This is what I would like to work on, and lately really need to.
The trick, not that I've mastered it or even begun to practice, is to give loving attention to the task at hand no matter what it is. "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men," says Colossians 3:23. Many translations say to do it "heartily." I like this idea. It sort of says, not that work makes up for time with God or can take the place of it, but that you can turn anything into a God-glorifying activity. Almost anything. This is what I would like to work on, and lately really need to.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Lenten Devotion
There's a problem with this scheme that I didn't foresee. I pledged to blog every day, which I have for the most part. But it turns out I don't have the urge to blog every day. While I have plenty to share, recountings and observations that are fine in ordinary time seem a little limp when the blog is supposed to be all spiritual and Lent-y. I've just put off writing this post in no less than four ways.
But this is not a loss. It's a lesson. Devotion, as I've said in different words before, means you do something not because you always want to. You do it because you promised to do it, because it shapes you, because it is an expression of something important. Everything I've heard about marriage says you can't expect to feel those sparks of love and lust all the time, but you can't get a divorce every time you feel annoyed with your spouse. Likewise, I come to this blog because it's a place for my reflections on Lent, not because I woke up this morning thinking, "Ooh, let's blog!" So here I am, in spite of my own wishes, wrapping up quickly so I can find those online jigsaw puzzles, but here and happy to be writing.
But this is not a loss. It's a lesson. Devotion, as I've said in different words before, means you do something not because you always want to. You do it because you promised to do it, because it shapes you, because it is an expression of something important. Everything I've heard about marriage says you can't expect to feel those sparks of love and lust all the time, but you can't get a divorce every time you feel annoyed with your spouse. Likewise, I come to this blog because it's a place for my reflections on Lent, not because I woke up this morning thinking, "Ooh, let's blog!" So here I am, in spite of my own wishes, wrapping up quickly so I can find those online jigsaw puzzles, but here and happy to be writing.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Quel Jour
The language of the title is in honor of Peter Mayle's Encore Provence, which, read by an Englishman on a CD played in my car, helped keep this day from being a completely wretched loss.
Let's see.
-My boss has zero communication skills, at least via email. This can not be a problem for weeks or months at a time, but now we have started a new project--webcasts!--which requires much more communication than usual. The webcasts are fun, but I literally never know whether I am doing the right thing when I'm writing the scripts and doing the related work.
-I was going to renew and return some library items but ran too late in the morning.
-I drove an hour to my first assignment, an hour to do the webcast, and an hour back to the same place where the first one was! Then an hour home. Again, thank you, Peter Mayle, and the lovely English audiobook reader.
-I had a splitting headache today, which I never have, and was very tired after my delicious weekend and an early jog. I really needed caffeine and was looking forward to checking out a new-to-me coffee shop. Closed on Mondays.
-I went to McDonald's to get coffee instead, but Boss called while I was in the parking lot, so I had to go to the library instead and write the script for tomorrow's webcast.
-You know, the public library, where I loiter with my computer because I don't have an office, and where a baby was crying.
-I had been going to read my Bible while drinking the coffee, and I never got to. ("Had been going to"? Is this OK?)
-When I called the number I found online for the library (the other library, the one where I live, which is SO FAR AWAY from where I work), it had been disconnected or something. Double bad: I now have a fine, and I cannot stand misinformation of that sort on the internet or elsewhere.
-When I finally got to McD's and took my ibuprofen with a sip of iced coffee, the straw was so big that I may have lost a pill in the drink. I then drank it really fast so as to finish before the pill dissolved and made that awful taste. I may have taken the pill just fine, but the possibility was pretty upsetting.
-Mom texted me that Dad was going into the hospital for a skin infection. I got it just before the evening meeting I covered, so I couldn't call for details, and I was distracted for much of the meeting by the possibilities. (The text (and the fact that it was a text and not a call) made it clear that I didn't need to come home or anything, it was for my information. I don't want you to think I got that news and callously went ahead to the meeting.)
But I'm not saying this just to complain. Partly to complain, yes, but also to tell you this: (Lent mode engage!)
I had a lot of plans for today, and most of them did not happen. This is the case on many days, but today it was pretty piled on. Missing my Bible-reading time was especially bad because I needed it more than usual.
On the retreat this weekend, after that long night of Apples to Apples, I knelt by my bed for a few minutes and whispered my prayers. I found that this worked well because the kneeling and whispering kept me focused. If I'm forming the words with my lips, I'm much less likely to find myself on a whole new topic than when I just pray in my head. I'm not a great pray-er, partly because I'm like, "If God knows everything, why do I need to tell Him stuff?" partly because it doesn't feel like an accomplishment, and probably for several other reasons. So it's always nice to find something that works, and I decided to try the out-loud/whisper thing regularly.
In the car tonight, on the way home from the meeting, I called Mom and had to leave a message. Anxious and antsy, I turned off Mr. Mayle's book and started to pray out loud. I felt better almost immediately.
Yes, it would have been great to do my Bible reading, but what a blessing to know that we can reach God, and He can reach us, even when our plans for doing so are foiled. It's good to have those plans, in fact it's crucial to arrange time and mental space for Him, but we also have to be open to God in other ways and times and places. If we insist that music or reading or a certain type of prayer or some other specific thing is the only way we communicate with God, we shut off a whole wing of our life with Him. So, listen for Him all the time, and try speaking to Him in new ways.
Mom called as I was praying. She and Dad had been going to urgent care since Friday morning, and he's been taking different forms of antibiotics. When the doctor there said today that IV antibiotics were next, they both said, "Yes, yes, we want that." They are ready to kick this thing. So, apparently, it's a good thing that he's in the hospital? Better, she said, than being at home and wondering whether he's improving. They both sounded pretty upbeat. Also, her iPad arrived today (I didn't even know they'd ordered it), and we talked about my coming there at Easter and how I'm going to make Rice Krispie treats and put them in greased plastic eggs and make a hollow in the middle and put candy in the hollow and take them out of the plastic eggs and put the halves together and it's going to be the best Easter snack ever. (I was about to put "best Easter thing ever." But that would be the original event. Good save, Jenkins.) So, I'm feeling a lot better than I did two hours ago. I have a lot to be thankful for.
Let's see.
-My boss has zero communication skills, at least via email. This can not be a problem for weeks or months at a time, but now we have started a new project--webcasts!--which requires much more communication than usual. The webcasts are fun, but I literally never know whether I am doing the right thing when I'm writing the scripts and doing the related work.
-I was going to renew and return some library items but ran too late in the morning.
-I drove an hour to my first assignment, an hour to do the webcast, and an hour back to the same place where the first one was! Then an hour home. Again, thank you, Peter Mayle, and the lovely English audiobook reader.
-I had a splitting headache today, which I never have, and was very tired after my delicious weekend and an early jog. I really needed caffeine and was looking forward to checking out a new-to-me coffee shop. Closed on Mondays.
-I went to McDonald's to get coffee instead, but Boss called while I was in the parking lot, so I had to go to the library instead and write the script for tomorrow's webcast.
-You know, the public library, where I loiter with my computer because I don't have an office, and where a baby was crying.
-I had been going to read my Bible while drinking the coffee, and I never got to. ("Had been going to"? Is this OK?)
-When I called the number I found online for the library (the other library, the one where I live, which is SO FAR AWAY from where I work), it had been disconnected or something. Double bad: I now have a fine, and I cannot stand misinformation of that sort on the internet or elsewhere.
-When I finally got to McD's and took my ibuprofen with a sip of iced coffee, the straw was so big that I may have lost a pill in the drink. I then drank it really fast so as to finish before the pill dissolved and made that awful taste. I may have taken the pill just fine, but the possibility was pretty upsetting.
-Mom texted me that Dad was going into the hospital for a skin infection. I got it just before the evening meeting I covered, so I couldn't call for details, and I was distracted for much of the meeting by the possibilities. (The text (and the fact that it was a text and not a call) made it clear that I didn't need to come home or anything, it was for my information. I don't want you to think I got that news and callously went ahead to the meeting.)
But I'm not saying this just to complain. Partly to complain, yes, but also to tell you this: (Lent mode engage!)
I had a lot of plans for today, and most of them did not happen. This is the case on many days, but today it was pretty piled on. Missing my Bible-reading time was especially bad because I needed it more than usual.
On the retreat this weekend, after that long night of Apples to Apples, I knelt by my bed for a few minutes and whispered my prayers. I found that this worked well because the kneeling and whispering kept me focused. If I'm forming the words with my lips, I'm much less likely to find myself on a whole new topic than when I just pray in my head. I'm not a great pray-er, partly because I'm like, "If God knows everything, why do I need to tell Him stuff?" partly because it doesn't feel like an accomplishment, and probably for several other reasons. So it's always nice to find something that works, and I decided to try the out-loud/whisper thing regularly.
In the car tonight, on the way home from the meeting, I called Mom and had to leave a message. Anxious and antsy, I turned off Mr. Mayle's book and started to pray out loud. I felt better almost immediately.
Yes, it would have been great to do my Bible reading, but what a blessing to know that we can reach God, and He can reach us, even when our plans for doing so are foiled. It's good to have those plans, in fact it's crucial to arrange time and mental space for Him, but we also have to be open to God in other ways and times and places. If we insist that music or reading or a certain type of prayer or some other specific thing is the only way we communicate with God, we shut off a whole wing of our life with Him. So, listen for Him all the time, and try speaking to Him in new ways.
Mom called as I was praying. She and Dad had been going to urgent care since Friday morning, and he's been taking different forms of antibiotics. When the doctor there said today that IV antibiotics were next, they both said, "Yes, yes, we want that." They are ready to kick this thing. So, apparently, it's a good thing that he's in the hospital? Better, she said, than being at home and wondering whether he's improving. They both sounded pretty upbeat. Also, her iPad arrived today (I didn't even know they'd ordered it), and we talked about my coming there at Easter and how I'm going to make Rice Krispie treats and put them in greased plastic eggs and make a hollow in the middle and put candy in the hollow and take them out of the plastic eggs and put the halves together and it's going to be the best Easter snack ever. (I was about to put "best Easter thing ever." But that would be the original event. Good save, Jenkins.) So, I'm feeling a lot better than I did two hours ago. I have a lot to be thankful for.
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