Over Time, and By My Own Free Will

Anne Jackson writes about the "everyday, ordinary cell phone" she had early on. It was the kind designed for phone calls and nothing else. Things changed, though. "Over time, and by my own free will, I've upgraded to the superphone. It emails. It sends texts. It checks the score of the Dallas Mavericks games. It wakes me up at 5:30 every morning and lets me snooze twice for ten minutes at a time. It keeps my calendar and gives me directions."

I've got a phone like that. It's a great little device. And I can relate to what Jackson writes next about gradual shift in power -- from owning a cell phone to being owned by one. Her example of the phone is really just an example, or more accurately a symptom, of larger issues. The part of her description which captures me today is this:

Over time, and by my own free will...

When I stop and really think about it, the musts and shoulds which cause me the most stress are usually the ones which are not for me to own. When I stop and really think about it, I sometimes discover that the tight spots I find myself in are largely of my own making, growing from a long series of small decisions made individually over time -- usually from creating faulty expectations of myself or choosing to accept faulty expectations of others, rather than intentionally seeking out and following the path God places in front of me.

It reminds me again of Hummel's "Tyranny of the Urgent." Over time, and by my own free will, I can become distracted from my purpose, my values, my intent. Yet over time, and by my own free will, I can also choose to reorient back toward my intended purpose, values, intent. I want the "little" decisions to reflect that latter, better orientation.

Today has been quiet and refreshing. I feel like my soul has been catching up to my body today, and I am looking forward to tomorrow.

Distance Perspective

"In front of me sat a large pile of cattle carcasses, still smoldering from the fire that had essentially destroyed them. Occasionally, I'd hear a crackle or pop coming from the heap, but for the most part, the grassy English field was silent.


Thankfully, I was four thousand miles away, cozied up in my apartment and watching this on TV, far removed from the smells that would have been carried by the damp winds. I was tuned in to a BBC channel, viewing a documentary about bovine spongiform encephalopathy, an affliction better known as mad cow disease."

-- Anne Jackson

Thus begins Jackson's approach to a different subject marked by its own dis-ease, close and tender to her own heart and to the hearts of those she seeks to reach with her writing. I am intrigued by her starting point because of the distance it introduces, and I wonder what she'll do with that.

Distance creates barriers. Like sitting comfortably and far away on a couch, it is tempting to deal with difficult and messy subjects by creating an intellectual separation so the issues cannot reach the heart. Until the heart is engaged, though, mental assent doesn't mean much.

At the same time, distance has the potential to create safety. Sometimes it helps to step back a little, to gain the perspective of standing a little further away and perhaps from a different angle. This may be just what is needed to create space to explore and express what feels particularly risky.

I don't want to find myself living always so close that I find myself swallowed up and lost in complex issues, unable to find my way out.

At the same time, I am cautious about standing so far back that all the details blur together, allowing neither recognition of the different aspects of the situation nor the understanding to successfully navigate whatever immediate situation I find myself in.

There is something to be said for bifocals -- or better yet, those newfangled transition lenses that allow for seeing well at a variety of distances. That is how I want to see the world around me. I love Jackson's image of distance as she approaches a difficult subject, both acknowledging the messiness which can be quite personal and allowing enough distance to make it palatable. I hope she writes in the balance of the two.

Box o' Memories

I was in our storage room today looking for Christmas stuff when I saw this:

I was suddenly intrigued by it. It's my box, presumably with my memories, right? But I haven't seen the inside of that box since... um... I don't know when. I have no idea what is in there, and I wonder what my filtering process was in choosing those items. I wonder, too, what I would put in a similarly-sized box if I were to create one from within my current stage in life.

Of course, the obvious solution to some of my questions is to open the box and see... but not today. Too much is going on right now, and if this is a good Box o' Memories, I don't want to be rushed through it.

I'm awfully curious, though.

"Coffee" Shops

I don't like the taste of straight coffee -- even the so-called "good" stuff. Even so, I spend a decent amount of time in coffee shops. Why? It's not about the coffee, but about the space such shops create.

So, what is it about coffee shops?

Space for projects, relationships, and relaxation

Public places that leave space for private conversations

Abundance of power outlets

Wireless internet access

Comfy couches

Cozy tables

Sense of movement

Temporary "office" space

Quiet enough to start working

Noisy enough to continue working

Lovely variety of beverages and pastries

And good memories

Looking back over the past year, much that is important to me has happened in coffee shops -- pausing to rest and ponder after significant experiences, engaging in meaningful conversations with others, developing thoughts and ideas that have eventually borne good fruit, reading, writing, learning, and simply enjoying time "away."

The taste of straight coffee does not appeal to me, but I do very much appreciate what we mix it with these days -- steamed milk, caramel syrup, hospitable space, and some of the people I love.

Windy Tale of Woe and Not-So-Woe

I read a story recently of a pastor who cheerfully began prayer on a cold and stormy Sunday morning with thanks "that most days aren't like this." That sums it up for me pretty well right now.

Waking slowly this morning, I sat up and turned on my phone to check messages and weather, then Facebook. My internet connection was unusually slow. Eventually I started to see status updates – apparently I had slept through quite a windstorm. My still-groggy brain processed that information and I began to realize there was a lot of noise coming from outside. Big noise. Windy-sounding noise.

I don't remember why I first went outside, but I found most of the front section of our fence had been blown down.

Going onto the lawn to investigate the damage, I looked across the back yard and saw much fence down on the back side, too.

The still-strong winds were threatening to destroy even more, so we went out into it and took down strategic sections to provide a bit more stability.

Immediate situation stabilized a bit more, I went online looking for reliable fencing repair companies.

Until we lost our Internet connection.

And then our internal network.

And then our electricity.

*sigh*

Clearly we were not going to find a fence repair company quickly.

But, as it turns out, that really did not matter because our cell phones would not make calls, and texting was iffy, too.

We could see the freeway from our place and the cars were not moving. Still, Mark needed to go to work, and it was clearly going to take a while to get there, so he kissed me goodbye and headed out.

A few moments later, he came back in because he needed to take my car -- the back window of his had shattered when the basketball standard came down in the storm.

So… I'm at home. The dog has been out of sorts with all the excitement. There is a bunch of shattered glass across the seats of the car, which would be awfully windy and cold to drive anyway. A load of still-wet laundry sits in the dryer, and the soapy mess of the next load is in the wash. No lights, no furnace, no cooking.

I really wish this day had been different, that we were not having high winds and the damages they cause. I wish I were not listening still to stuff coming apart around the neighborhood.

Even so, I am reminded that I have much to be genuinely grateful for. And really, all this is not so bad. Yes, it will be expensive, time-consuming, and inconvenient. But our house is still standing, and even our large tree seems to be holding strong. We will probably have power and heat by tomorrow. In fact, our house had heated up already this morning before the power went out, so it is not freezing cold in here. I am grateful for crews of police and power company people and others who have been working for hours in uncomfortable and potentially dangerous conditions to get things back to normal. I am grateful for hats and layers of warm clothes. Oddly, though I still can't make phone calls, I have email and internet on it, which has been helpful.

And... I am grateful that most days aren't like this.

Black Friday...

One of our nation's seasonal customs is Black Friday, so named for the time when retailers finally go "in the black" for the year. It has become increasingly crazy as retailers have ramped up marketing intensity and stores have started opening earlier in increasingly frenzied attempts to woo shoppers.

It is therefore not too surprising that another of our nation's seasonal customs is talking about the seriously out-of-bounds behaviors observed in the midst of Black Friday shopping. This year's stories include pepper spray, guns, knives, looting, and muggings.

(For the record, a number of my friends went shopping on Good Friday this year, and not one of them was pepper-sprayed, shot, stabbed, or mugged. First, I'll say "Yay!" Second, I'll appreciate this as a reminder that the news stories about a handful of out-of-control shoppers are not representative of the majority.)

I read an article recently about the excesses of Black Friday, including some of the ways self-correction may be coming about, such as through online shopping. That makes all sorts of sense to me. "But on Saturday many shoppers said they still prefer buying a the big stores, despite the frenzy. [One] said she likes the time with her sisters and the hustle of the mall too much to stay home and just shop online."

Huh. I cannot fathom the thought of actively seeking out massive crowds of frenzied shoppers.

The Context of Hope

This is the first week of Advent, and on Sunday we lit the first candle to signify hope. One thing that has stuck with me is the idea that the word "hope" has a joyful feel to it, and at the same time hope is most truly apparent when the circumstances don't seem particularly joyful. Hope does not ignore the present reality, just refuses to believe that the present reality is the end of the story.

I love the image of the first candle representing hope. It stands alone, the other candles still just shadows of what is yet to come. And the one small flame is only a spark, not a raging fire. But that little flame is enough.

Dignity in Customer Service

I called a company's customer service line this evening in an attempt to find out when the item we ordered is likely to arrive. Their original delivery estimate on the purchase receipt was an eight-day window. Eight days! I can make some adjustments in my schedule to be home for a shipment, but... eight days?? That is much too broad.

The guy on the other end was patient and polite as he examined the details of the order and explained their shipping procedures. Unfortunately for me, their shipping procedures are quite unhelpful. That huge window is built into the system and they have apparently decided it is acceptable. Even when explained by a persistently personable customer service guy, the attitude portrayed by this company's system is that if I really want the item, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I can be home whenever it is that they decide to show up with it.

Grrr.

I asked clarifying questions, trying to narrow down the possibilities at least a little bit, and the agent on the other end gave another lengthy explanation of the same information. He was still patient, still polite. Just not helpful.

I became more annoyed and actively fought the temptation to take it out on the customer service agent. After all, the company does not meet my expectations and he represents the company, right?

Thankfully, a brief article by Gordon MacDonald came to mind and, as I paused a moment to consider the situation, MacDonald's words helped me gain some perspective and respond more appropriately.

The issue I was having wasn't the fault of the customer service representative. He didn't create the system. He doesn't adjust the system. He's just the one stuck explaining the system. Over and over, to unhappy people, especially in a high-volume and extra-stressful shopping season. Ugh. I do not covet his job.

And I was impressed by how he conducted himself in it.

My issue was not with the customer service person, but with the customer service system, and I decided to acknowledge that. I summarized briefly that I'd called for more precise information about shipping and would end the call feeling frustrated by the situation. I told him it would be unfair to demand more information of him than the company's system provides and, at the same time, I wanted to express quite clearly that their system is inadequate.

My message was clear -- I am not upset with him personally, I am definitely dissatisfied with the company he represents, and there is nothing he can do to fix it.

That's why his response is all the more interesting. He seemed to relax as he spoke with new warmth. "Thank you," he said. "I wish I could give you more information, and I appreciate your understanding." He did not complain about the company, about me, or about other customers. He spoke with dignity. And he sounded genuinely grateful.

I find myself in all of this feeling a little more sad about a cultural trend of treating others poorly, even as objects, because I can't help but wonder how much of this guy's work time includes being berated for issues he cannot fix within the company.

It is sometimes reasonable to be dissatisfied, but that is not reason to be unkind.