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.