A Month Of...

It is November, and time again for National Novel Writing Month, a.k.a. NaNoWriMo.  By writing just 1700 words per day, a whole host of enthusiastic folks will write a whole bunch of miraculously, sometimes hilariously, bad fiction.  And that's just fine, because the point isn't to write the Best Novel Ever, but to write a novel at all.

Or maybe that's just the method, and the point is something deeper.

There is something here about a passion that becomes a dream that becomes a vision that becomes a plan that becomes a discipline that becomes a reality.  There is something here about setting a goal that feels big and amazing, the kind of thing that other people do, and then realizing it is actually possible.  There is something here about giving ourselves permission to be playful and serious and fun in pursuit of a passion without perfectionism.  There is something here about connecting with like-minded others.

Once again, I will not be participating in NaNoWriMo.  Still, once again, I will be celebrating people who do.

Perhaps God gives some ambitions knowing we won't fully achieve them but will accomplish other important things in their pursuit. (N.T. Wright)

More Young People These Days

I wrote several years ago about young people these days, and had similar thoughts today while reading this article.  It's a great story of individuals not just recognizing and bemoaning a problem they see, but taking the initiative to come together, with courage and enthusiasm, to bring about positive change.  "They were leaders, and they have reminded us again that our future is in great hands" (Sarah Watkins).

Community and Process

I recently read The Complete Idiot's Guide to Parliamentary Procedure, Fast Track. And, unexpectedly, I enjoyed it.  Weird, right?  But here's the thing -- it's not dry, dull lists of rules and regulations (though it does certainly explain the core principles, and does it very well).  Rather, it's built on a solid foundation of developing and sustaining a community marked by mutual respect throughout its membership, and one designed for creativity and excellence.  It's about being flexible at the right times and in the right ways rather than complying so rigidly to a set of behaviors that we risk losing a part of our humanity.  It's about being open and honest in our dealings with each other, always with a focus on the good of the whole rather than the convenience or desires of those with the most power.  It's about honoring the unique contributions of each individual toward a common goal, and ensuring that each one has a place in the process.  It's about grace and truth, and navigating together through sometimes-sticky issues.  It's about covenant relationships that nurture souls.

Seriously, what's not to love about this?

The Magic of Christmas Cards

Today we received another cheerful Christmas greeting with a photo of people we love, and I smile when I see it.

I've been pondering this all day -- we can put an envelope in a box and send it very reliably, even to and from obscure places thousands of miles away, for less than the price of a candy bar. And this particular envelope found its way to us even though it was addressed to our old place. Its cross-country travel, including the redirection to our current home, took only a week. Receiving mail is one of those things that is so easy to take for granted, but when I really stop to think, it's pretty amazing.

Powerful Alliances

I love the story of George and Alice in the TED Talk below. She was determined to solve a tough problem and he was determined to help her. These two very different individuals formed a powerful alliance, with world-changing results. As Heffernan says, "the truth won't set us free until we develop the skills and the habit and the talent and the moral courage to use it."



Heffernan: "I wonder how many of us have -- or dare to have -- such collaborators." I wonder this, too.

I wonder when in Heffernan's other story Joe began to recognize his allies, and how.

I wonder how we distinguish between allies and enemies.

I wonder if you have had someone help you like George helped Alice.

I wonder what the word conflict looks like, sounds like, feels like for you.

I wonder how you reacted to Heffernan's description of such collaboration as a kind of love.

I wonder what problems you have to solve.

I wonder who you might invite to help you by disagreeing with you.

I wonder how we can best enjoy the benefits of those who think similarly while also guarding against forming echo chambers.

I wonder how often I prioritize my own comfort above what truly matters by avoiding what has the potential to be productive conflict.

And I am grateful for the "Alices" and "Georges" and "Joes" in my life -- individuals who intentionally engage, who bring their whole selves to our interactions, who are attentive enough to recognize our differences, loving enough to speak authentically, intentional enough to communicate effectively, and trusting our relationship enough to disagree.

Advent Hope

On Sunday we lit one candle of the Advent wreath, bringing first light to the perimeter of the circle. This small flame will be joined by the remaining candles as the story continues to unfold through the coming weeks, but we're not there yet; it's not time.

This lone candle shining quietly on the wreath represents hope. Hope is not the expectancy of assumption or entitlement, but it is recognition that good may yet come about even in what seems like a very dark time. Hope's strength is most truly known when the outcome matters deeply and remains yet to be seen.

Such hope resonates with my soul, especially as I walk together with others through seasons marked by darkness of depression, grief, anxiety, health issues, unresolved conflict, bitterness, addiction. As I sat pondering the hope candle on Sunday, I thought of people I love in the midst of such times. In some of those situations, the light of hope is still just a flicker, but great light begins with a flicker, and I am abundantly grateful for such hope.

"The people living in darkness

have seen a great light;

on those living in the land

of the shadow of death

a light has dawned."

(Isaiah 9:2; Matthew 4:16)

Advent Wondering

We've been reading the "Anticipate" devotional for Advent this year. When we reached the first "I wonder..." question in the part written especially for families with children, Mark and I looked at each other with wide-eyed expressions and gleefully exclaimed "Batman!"

It was a shared memory from early in our married life, soon after we moved to this area. The two of us had begun leading a children's worship program called Stories of God at our church. Created by a denomination more liturgical than ours, each week's lesson followed a consistent pattern, which provided wonderful structure for working with these 4-7 year old children. Part of that pattern was the "wondering time" -- thoughts posed at the end of the story to help the children connect with it. Similar to questions, the thoughts presented during wondering time were meant to model exploring a parable for meaning rather than simply dictating it.

I don't remember which story we were telling, but probably The Good Shepherd, or maybe The Lost Sheep. Anyway, it was definitely a sheep story, because the first wondering question was this: I wonder if these sheep have names? The children looked at me with puzzled expressions. They were quiet for several moments as they considered the question. Then one's face lit up with excitement as he responded: "Batman! I'll bet one of them is named Batman!" At that, the whole circle of little faces lit up, each with similar ideas.

I suppose this is what the child development experts talk about in those education and psychology texts when they describe the "concrete stage of development." For the most part, young children simply are not ready to come up with the more abstract understandings of parables on their own. As a result, the "wondering time" was a fascinatingly unpredictable part of a generally routine Sunday morning program. Sometimes the responses went far afield, occasionally they found fertile ground, and usually they were somewhere in between. And ultimately, it was in the midst of such variety that I discovered their great value. After all, there's not much point to asking questions we already have all the answers to. Really good wondering time provides space for the unknown, nudging us past simplistic answers and cultivating our souls for growth.

Advent and Christmas are seasons of wonder. Not every question has a clear answer, but authentically pondering them can be significant. Like I learned while leading Stories of God, I want to experience wonder and grow up into it, to pursue understanding while leaving space for mystery.

I wonder where I'll see God at work during this Advent season.

Achievements

I have a Ticket to Ride app, a.k.a. "the train game." The computerized players aren't too bad but are generally pretty beatable, so it's nice to have "achievements" to shoot for, too -- usually something about staying within specific, stricter limits, which tends to require adjusting one's approach to win.

Hey, look!  I achieved something!

This concept of achievements is a common theme in game app development. The word suggests meeting a challenge and calls the player to something beyond the usual.

A different game I've played incorporates "missions," which seems to be their attempt at the same idea. The implementation in that one is mediocre, though. A few of the "missions" call for actual skills, but most read merely like a to-do list (e.g., construct eight four-letter words), and a few are blatantly non-challenging (e.g., request hints). Ugh. Why did the programmers even bother creating such goals?

The thing is, even without being well-designed, this tactic manages to increase player engagement and keep people playing longer than they would otherwise. We more readily squander time as the game renames our efforts in terms of "mission," as if we were doing something important.

As much as I'd like for all of this to be about game design, it's not. It is much more about human drives to find meaning and significance, meet challenges, do something extra, go beyond the ordinary. When channeled appropriately, such drives are a great gift. Unfortunately, it is easy to instead become distracted toward focusing on "achievements" and "missions" and "badges" -- externally defined goals completed for some lesser purpose -- at the expense of those things which truly matter most.

Setting aside my to-do list for awhile earlier in the year was a worthwhile experience, and continues to shape my thoughts each day. I'm still learning to persistently measure my moments based on what matters rather than being drawn back to the black hole of The List. I do enjoy when I have a bunch of tasks completed at the end of a day. Still, the truest joy and satisfaction come when I can look back and genuinely know I've lived the day well, approaching it the best I know how while persistently attentive and prepared to change course when God prompts to do so.

Not Car Sales

I'd been thinking awhile about trading in my car for something a little different to provide options for other ways a vehicle could be useful at this stage in my life and ministry. I found one online that was interesting. It still looked good after a bit of research, so I went to check it out. It still looked good after a test drive, so I went to the sales guy and we started talking.

He used the usual sales techniques, of course -- offered water, started high, made conversation, sought rapport, and all that. The weirdest part was when he asked me to sign a paper saying that I would buy the vehicle if we could agree on price and terms. Isn't that the definition of car shopping? And the whole thing took forever.

From what I've read, lengthy waiting is one of the tricks of car salesmen in negotiation as they "take it to the sales manager." I could understand the other tactics, but this was was truly perplexing, so I did a search later to find out how that is expected to help the dealership. Apparently it increases the anticipation and therefore the desire...? Huh. That was decidedly not my experience. Instead, my irritation grew with the increasing sense of manipulation and disrespect. Added to that, I was left waiting with a proposed trade-in value that was absurdly low.

Meanwhile, as the sales guy went back and forth between me and the sales manager, I pondered the proposed trade-in value and thought about my car. It has served me well. Nothing fancy, just good mileage and very reliable. I've had it for over six years and 100k miles. Much has happened in that time, and this machine has faithfully gotten me to and from a lot of significant moments.

It'll be time to trade it in eventually, but thanks to the sales guy's technique of creating long delays, I've got a new appreciation for my good little car, and I'm in no hurry :)

Redeeming Leaves

I always feel a little guilty raking leaves. The tree invested months in making those, and it seems a shame to just toss them away. It's not like I'm grabbing them off the tree, of course; they've already served their purpose and have been shed. But leaves are meant to fall to the ground and decompose into the soil, providing nutrients for future seasons of growth. When I rake and haul away the pile for the sake of appearance, I short-circuit that process.

As human beings, we go through "seasons," too -- cycles of growing, investing, producing, shedding. Moving always forward through time, we are not meant to try to hold on to the unchanging "leaves" of experience, but rather to be transformed, acknowledging the past and allowing it to feed the future rather than simply hiding it away for the sake of appearance.

Making Time

While planning a trip, I contacted friends who live in the area where I'd be traveling. I wasn't going to be there long, and they're busy too, but I hoped to at least stop in for a quick hello, even if just a few minutes and a hug. "We'll make time," they said, and that's what we all did. In the end, it wasn't quite what we'd planned, and that was okay. I was grateful for opportunity to see them and catch up a little with the unfolding story of their lives.

"We'll make time." What beautiful words! We've been heading into "the holiday season" for a few weeks now, and the next five weeks tend to be busy ones within the culture where I live. It is easy to get caught up in that and lose sight not just of the story of Jesus, but also his nature. I've been learning, though, and prioritizing better. Our house will be decorated simply, our meals uncomplicated, and my task list adjusted. I look forward with anticipation to the coming weeks, and especially to time spent with others -- in cheerful celebrations, mournful moments, conflicts and struggles and whatever else this time brings. Jesus was not just physically present during his time on earth; he was thoroughly present. That's the model I want to follow.

I saw this post yesterday-ish and have been thinking about my priorities in the upcoming weeks. Watching The Muppet Christmas Carol is on the list, and maybe even The Hobbit. We'll decorate our home with a nativity set and Christmas tree. I'm aiming to do some baking with friends, look at Christmas lights with Mark, and play games. A couple of gatherings on the schedule will be good for catching up with folks I don't get to see much, and others for closer friends. I'll spend time with some more personally, too, in homes and coffee shops and probably hospitals. I love the whole Advent season at church, and especially look forward to the Christmas Eve service.

I am reminded of this statement from Dallas Willard:

"We can learn how to act quickly without hurrying.

Quickness is an attribute of action.

Hurry is an attribute of the spirit."

(article here)

Yeah, this will be a busy season, and I am learning how to respond in the busyness without rushing, to prioritize, to create regular space for silence and prayer, to re-orient my soul.

Pausing to Reboot

My computer periodically starts to hiccup for no apparent reason, and there's really nothing to do about it except reboot. The interruption is not what I wish for, but it is brief and usually enough to bring my computer back to clarity again, and very much worth the investment of time.

I'm a bit like that, too. My thoughts periodically start to hiccup for no apparent reason, and often the best solution is to simply reboot. It sometimes feels like opportunity stolen from something more important, but it is usually enough to bring me back to clarity again, and very much worth the investment of time.

I am grateful for Sabbath, holidays, and vacations, and I am grateful for power naps.

Thankful: Garbage Collection

I rolled the trash can out to the street on Monday evening, and by the time I looked out the front window on Tuesday morning, the can was empty. It's one of those "little" things that is so easy to take for granted -- and it isn't "little" at all. The mere existence of trucks which lift huge plastic cans and dump them easily into a collection bin is pretty impressive. An infrastructure which allows for bringing such trucks to collect trash from each neighborhood each week at a reasonable cost is even more amazing. I imagine there are some awkward spaces to navigate, and I know there are employees hard at work early in the morning, in all sorts of weather. Yep -- garbage collection is definitely on my thankful list!

Thankful Jar

My folks have a thankful jar. After Thanksgiving suppers of recent years, we have gone around the table telling what we're thankful for, dropping in a popcorn kernel each time. The "rules" are fuzzy and flexible; nobody gets booed away from the table if they mix it up a bit.

Mom told of Grandma C's influence toward gratitude through her words and example. As Grandma was losing functioning in various areas during her older years, including becoming less verbal, people at church would greet her and ask how she was doing. Grandma didn't have a lot of words available to her anymore for engaging in in-depth conversations, but would consistently pause and then reply with a smile, "I'm grateful." I don't remember those interactions, but I do remember that attitude in her.

We've got a ways to go yet to fill our family's big thankful jar with those itty-bitty kernels. I'm okay with that. After all, the process of getting "there" (filling the jar) means lots more days of gratitude, and that's a pretty good place to be.

Fear and Boldness

Q is at doggie daycare today. I trust that he'll get comfortable and happy there, but he's still kinda anxious. He was pulled in by his collar last time, which added to the anxiety. He seemed more settled when I picked him up later in the day, though also leaped over the fence to reach me when I picked him up, and stayed quite attentively nearby for the rest of the evening. When I took him to daycare this morning, he walked into the building happily and sniffed excitedly through the gate where several dogs came to investigate our arrival, but backed out anxiously when the gal tried to take him in to play. I picked him up and carried him in, which seemed to help... until I left. Oh, the sadness. He did not want to face this without me; he wanted the safety of the familiar.

I, on the other hand, think the doggie daycare place is great. The critters there play together with good folks leading their "pack." They have plenty of water, a clean place to run and jump, and even furniture they're allowed to climb on. I dropped him off with confidence that he would be just fine. And as he begins to feel more settled over time, he will have lots of fun playing there. He will learn to interact with other dogs and will have new opportunities in other places, too.

I've been thinking about Q this morning, about his anxiety and my confidence at the doggie daycare place. It is good to be aware of his fear, and respectful of him in it, to be gentle and kind. It is good, too, to not be ruled by his fear, and to also help him to not be ruled by it.

That is a good reminder as a human being. It is natural to be anxious in new situations, especially when it's unfamiliar and has lots going on. Such situations are often more difficult in times of transition. There is nothing wrong with that fear, and it may be appropriate to engage more cautiously when uncertain, and to seek support from others. It is good to be aware of fear and respectful of fear, both in myself and others, without being ruled by it. Engaging with both caution and boldness, we can learn and grow, and eventually even grow to enjoy the experience.

Oh, and the process can be exhausting -- a nap can work wonders!

Attentive Gratitude

What would we do if the stars came out only once every thousand years?

No one would sleep that night, of course.

The world would become religious overnight.

We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God.

Instead the stars come out every night, and we watch television.

(from Ralph Waldo Emerson)

It is so easy to take for granted our blessings, to become distracted by tasks, to feel overwhelmed by struggles. In the midst of all that, it is good to pause and give thanks for that which seems so ordinary. The Thanksgiving holiday is in recognition of this, I think, setting aside space and time to pay attention, to recognize and  appreciate blessings, and in the process to train ourselves toward gratitude all year long.

A number of my Facebook friends have been doing daily (or daily-ish) gratitude posts. I like that idea, and am glad for their posts, for the reminders to be thankful and for the opportunities to share in joy. I haven't been posting daily thanks, but join in here with gratitude:

Constellations

Snowplows

Warm-bloodedness

Modern medicine

Fuzzy socks

Leaves replenishing the soil

Time with my parents

My husband

Q

Transformation of hearts, minds, lives

Cows

Power naps

Food preservation

Intergenerational relationships

Pie

Written language

Digital photography

Carried Treasure

A recent conversation sent me looking for a photo on my phone. Phone cameras have improved so much in recent years, and have become so commonly carried, that snapping photos has just become part of everyday life. I found the photo I sought in those moments, and later made time to glance through the remaining ones. It was like a treasure hunt, except it was treasure I'd been carrying around in my pocket for a year. Here's some of what I found:

Transport of something HUGE! I watched for quite awhile.
Never did figure out what it was, but it was amazing.

Quote found in papers while moving

Enlarge this and take a look at the list of ingredients.
Starts with "lamb lungs" and moves on from there.

The fact that such a genre exists... oh my...

In airline catalog

Pile of mostly-junk mail awaiting us after Bangladesh

I drew this. I liked it. I saved it.

About half the German army seemed to be
flying Southwest on that particular day.

"We live life as if it were a motion picture. Loss turns life into a snapshot.
The movement stops; everything freezes." (Gerald Sittser)

Looks weird, sounds worse.
Surprisingly tasty!

Science!
Definitely stir before drinking.

Rock/wire art

...yep...

And there are 1700 more photos where those came from! Cemeteries, curry powder, cows, snails, dogs, dilated eyeballs, big trucks, big rocks, inflammation, sports, Pittsburgh, platypus, a cookie fortune, feet, food, flowers, family, friends, funnies, furniture, fallen fence, fake firewood, and a bunch more. It looks like a random assortment, and not particularly interesting.

Except to me.

Phone photos often come with stories; they represent people, ideas, metaphors, experiences, all significant in some way. I am grateful for memory, and for this little "carried treasure" of photos.

Lint Hazard

I cleaned out the dryer vent awhile back. I've heard it's a good idea for increasing drying rate, reducing costs, and preventing fires. After forty-five minutes, a screwdriver, several vacuumings, and a bit of blood loss, I could see why such cleaning matters. All told, the pile of lint I pulled out was about the same weight as a tank top. Itty-bitty, impossibly fine fibers caked tightly together with coarse yellow fur.

I found myself pondering lint, stuck with lint images in my head. There's got to be a metaphor here, or some other redeeming feature, right? Probably something about otherwise-insignificant things becoming a hazard when not dealt with over time, or colorful variety becoming a dull gray mass when clumped together without design, or gradual disintegration of self as little pieces of the whole become detached just a bit at a time.

Lots of connections to significance in those. Perhaps something about attention to detail, conflict resolution, each person being both unique and connected in community, the distinction between melting pot and stew models of diversity, or loss of integrity.

Of course, it's also pretty nice sometimes to just look at the dryer and think "ooh, clean vent!" and be happy.

Hi Q

Recent days have been pretty eventful for the dog -- shelter life, adoption, neutering, road trip, another veterinarian, respiratory infection, new home and neighborhood, and a visit to doggie daycare with a whole bunch of new friends. And now, as if that weren't enough, he has a new name. We've been talking about changing it since we got him. "Buster" was okay, but not quite right. So, after a week of discussion, his new name is "Q":

It's physics, ministry, games, and poetry all in one. I like it.

Dog identity

Physics, ministry, and fun

Hello dog: "Hi Q!"

Conversation-Miles

I read this yesterday:
"I have much to write you, but I do not want to do so with pen and ink.  I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face." (3 John 13-14a).

It was written long before automobiles, long before airplanes, long before video calls. To "talk face to face" was no quick and easy task, and John's decision to engage more personally rather than by simply adding more words to the letter points to something significant.

...

Constellation Orion

Light moves fast -- somewhere around 700 million miles per hour.  Numbers like that certainly sound big, but so big that their bigness seem to lose meaning.  After all, what is 700 million miles?  So instead, we tend to express the speed of light as a more understandable unit: 186,000 miles per second.  Still hard to imagine, but at least it's in range of something mildly familiar.  In other words, light travels fast enough to go the entire distance around the earth about seven times in one second.  (Yeah, I know the earth isn't flat and isn't a vacuum.)


Measuring distance in light-years feels a bit like measuring weight in gallons -- there is a logic to it, but not necessarily the usual logic.  One light-year is the distance light can travel through a vacuum in one year (therefore around 5,880,000,000,000 miles).  In comparison, the sun is around 8.3 light-minutes from the earth (therefore around 1/63,000th of one light-year).  The next-nearest star is over four light-years away.  That is, even traveling 186,000 miles per second, light would take over four years to reach the next-nearest star after the sun.  So -- light moves fast, but space is big, so the magnitude of light-years makes more sense.

...

Going back to John, I've learned to "measure" significant conversations in terms of distance: How far am I willing to go to approach this conversation in person?  Maybe I'll call it "conversation-miles." Some interactions are just best done face to face, and are worth the investment.

I don't know what John anticipated talking about face to face, but whatever it was, I love that he made the distinction and made it clearly, and I love that it mattered enough for him to show up in person.