Dam Habits. . .

My work e-mail has now been down for about 16 hours.  I am stewing, wondering:

• What am I missing?
• Who might be trying to reach me?
• Do they think I'm ignoring them?
• Did my last e-mail go out?
• Should I call somebody?
• Whose fault is it?

Is this really the fabric of my life?  Is my whole life held together by e-mail?  (The answer to this is apparently yes, as I have four e-mail accounts and facebook!)  I cannot believe how anxious this is making me. 

Yesterday I read a reflection on the story of Jesus healing the "crooked" woman on the Sabbath (Luke 13).  Jan Richardson of Painted Prayerbook, asks these questions in her reflection: What are the habits, patterns, and rhythms by which we live our lives?  Are there patterns and habits that, over time, have become confining, keeping us bound and bent and feeling less than whole?  Experiencing this anxiety around the absence of my  e-mail makes me think that this habit might have become confining.  I definitely feel less than whole without it.

I thought I had evolved beyond that. . . I like to think I am a fairly free spirit, unbound by convention, regulation, and rules.  Eldest daughter and I had many discussions about rules while she was visiting.  She, having been raised with the broadest possible rules  likes to devise rules for daily living.  She thinks of them as building good habits - and I have to applaud her creative use of rules for that purpose.  It seems to me that she uses her chosen rules the way children use rules in games - to keep it fair, to foster peace, to make it more interesting.  I, on the other hand, who generally perceive rules as confining, now find myself vicitmized by habits randomly formed, rather than chosen. 

When my daughters were children, I chose their rules with great care. (e.g. "If your action could hurt someone, including you, don't do it!" or "People are ALWAYS more important than stuff.") I didn't want to have to enforce anything I didn't believe in wholeheartedly.  I also didn't want to stifle any of their creativity, or put them in a box that would force them to grow in particular ways.  I wanted them to be free to become the women God had created them to be. 

The rules I consciously choose for myself tend to work a lot like the rules I chose for my daughters:  they are there to protect me and free my creativity.  My habits, however, are not so intentional - and obviously it is time for some examination and re-evaluation.

Since one of my "creative" rules is to find a water connection for each of these musings, I'll share this mental metaphor with you.  Habits are like dams on a river.  They can generate power and regulate flow but they can also cause flooding upstream if they are too high or too inflexible when the rains come. 

I'd like to hear your thoughts on habits and rules. . . so please, jump in and leave a comment!

Of dogs and children and kingdoms. . .

It’s the dog days of summer and “Rex-the-Wonder-Dog” has come for his annual visit. Rex’s summer care was originally my younger daughter’s job and when she left for college I let him keep coming because he’s such a marvelous animal. Last night, he and I watched a fantastic special on PBS called Through a Dog’s Eyes. The program is about service dogs and is both fascinating and inspiring.

The creator of the film, Jennifer Arnold, clearly loves dogs, and she loves people enough to breed, train and match dogs with children and adults who need service animals. The skills the dogs can learn, and the intuition they exhibit with their owners, is phenomenal.  The publicity for the show claims it will make you see your own dog in a whole new way, and, while Rex is only my dog for a couple of weeks, after watching it, I have to acknowledge some of his more “spiritual” qualities.

First I must commend his UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. Every day when I return from work I am greeted with joy. When I take the garbage out and return in 5 minutes, I get the same greeting. I feel like the most important person in the world when I walk through the door. I have done nothing to deserve this joyous welcome but he gives it unsparingly, with his whole being.

Another admirable Rex quality is a FORGIVING HEART. Yesterday I sent him away with a loud and annoyed voice as I was getting ready for work. It was clear as he departed that I had really hurt his feelings. Yet, when I emerged, clean and dressed, he greeted me as if I’d never spoken harshly to him at all.

Rex is also totally AUTHENTIC. He asks for exactly what he wants: scratching on the kitchen wall means “my bowl is empty”, scratching on the door means “I need to relieve myself” and head-butting means “Hey, I need a little attention here!” When he has been on the couch he acts guilty – truly a dog without guile.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with children or faith.  Well, children also love us unconditionally, forgive us when we fail them and are totally authentic. Studies have shown that children from even the worst possible homes still love their parents. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he said “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” (Mark 10) I think the kingdom of God is far simpler than we "mature Christians" want it to be. If children get it, then what makes it difficult must be something within us, and not part of the kingdom itself. Is it possible that we complicate things just to make ourselves more important in the equation?

Maybe what we really need to do to be the children Jesus describes is to stop looking at ourselves, and our needs, and focus on the good and gracious giver of all. When I consider everything that God has done for me,  I am overcome with wonder. And I think that’s what goes on in Rex’s mind when he looks at me: “She feeds me.  She opens that door – I love her!”  Likewise, children look at adults and are always aware of everything we can do that they can’t – “She can drive a car! She can swim! She knows when I’m getting into something I shouldn’t!” – and they love us, enough to want to be us.

Although I only get Rex for two weeks a year, and my own children are grown, I get to spend time with children nearly every day.  With their unconditional love they give me a little window into the kingdom, and I am truly blessed!  And - in case the jury is still out for you - I think that all dogs DO go to heaven!

Hold fast to the steadfast

I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz today: “My goodness! People come and go so quickly here!” In just the past few days I’ve experienced:

• a visit with my daughter and her husband,
• the arrival of a bevy of day camp counselors,
• the death of a friend’s father,
• the departure of some college students usually in my orbit,
• people returning from vacation
• people leaving for vacation,
• the arrival of a new co-worker,
• the end of one camp and the start of another,
• a visiting dog
• the unexpected gift of an orchid lei from across the ocean.

I wonder what effect all this coming and going has on all of us. It is exciting, to be sure. Is it healthy? I’m not certain – but it must be at least as healthy as never going anywhere! It certainly helps us be aware, and appreciate, that only God is steadfast.

People come, people go; I come and go, but God is ever steadfast. My time zone, or state, or continent is of no consequence to God. Like air, like water, God is simply there. Never sleeping, never traveling, never absent nor away, God waits, steadfastly, for me to notice.

If we look for God, like sailors navigating by the stars, wherever we may find ourselves, we can orient ourselves by looking for God. In this crazy tornado of a week I have spotted God in so many places:

• in the sun rising over the lake
• in the passionate heart of a young person
• in the unconditional love of a child (and a dog)
• in kindnesses shown between people
• in the forgiveness of my sins
• in the synergy of a group of people at work
• in the stubborn grasp of a flower growing through a crack in a rock
• in the music of the blues mass
• in the words on the page of a good book

Like the star that our planet revolves around, God is always there. Though I may spin on my own axis and experience periods of light and dark – God is steadfast, God is light, and God is my home where ever I may be. And, to quote Dorothy Gale a second time, “There’s no place like home”.

After tornados or travels or travails, come home. The steadfast One waits.

Still Waters

A long time ago a wise person challenged me to spend the first 5 minutes of every car trip in silence. What would you think about if the radio weren't on? It seems such a small thing but it creates an oasis of silence in the middle of the noisy world. In that silence I can hear what I'm really thinking. I can hear the still, small voice of God. And I rest.

Being still is a skill that can be practiced, and with practice, learned. It can be taught to children, even those who are very young. It is invaluable, and more important than it has ever been because there are is so much noise demanding our attention. In his book Crazy Busy: Overbooked, Overstretched and About to Snap, Dr. Edward Hallowell talks about the barrage of stimuli that people are subjected to every day. He believes there is a kind of acquired attention deficit disorder emerging as a result of all the stimulation we recieve. As I read this book I realized that there is no way to immunize our kids against noise. The best we can do is protect them with "noise screens" the same way we apply sunscreen to their skin. One way to do this is to teach them to be still.

If you already have a quiet time each day you are well aware of the benefits of quiet and positioned to share stillness with others. If you don't, begin as I did, with 5 minutes in the car. This isn't really stillness, your mind remains occupied with operating the vehicle, watching the traffic, etc. but it's a change that at least partially frees your mind. From there, extend the number of minutes or miles with no noise and observe yourself to see if you are changing. As you get more comfortable with silence, try taking it out of the car. At home, I find it helpful to pray first and empty my thoughts out so that there is room in my head for God.

To teach stillness to children you may have to start with periods as short as a minute. The first step is no talking. Then, you may also have to help still individual parts of the body. "Make your feet still; make your hands still: make your legs still." As with adults, car time provides a good place to start. Take advantage of the relative immobility created by a car seat and also wait 5 minutes to turn on that movie! Bedtime practice can also be fruitful and has the side benefit of providing your child with self-calming techniques.

Think about your language. My mom once overheard a young mother telling her child to be silent, instead of quiet. Mom commented that she had never thought about how different these two instructions are. Being silent goes much further than being quiet. Likewise, being still goes further than being quiet, or even silent. Being still involves your whole body, and your whole mind. It probably doesn't matter what you call it - but it probably does matter that you are consistent and differentiate between the words.

So why pursue stillness? I am drawn to these words from the Psalms: "Be still and know that I am God" (46) and "He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul" (23). I pursue stillness because it restores my soul to the place where it is possible to hear God. May you also find still waters in the midst of your noisy world..

Clean Hands

Late again - blame it on Daily Bread Cooking Camp. Twice each summer I lead a week-long cooking camp at my church for children of various ages. This week I had the littlest campers - 6, 7 and 8-year-olds. What a week we've had! Grand adventures in the kitchen, Bible studies that added new spice to old, familiar stories, and lots of laughter around the tables as we ate what we cooked.

There are a number of water connections I could make - today we boiled water, used ice to make ice cream and watered the little garden we're tending for the Sunday School. Yesterday we visited Boggy Creek Farm and saw many drip irrigation lines which prompted the comment "only the roots get thirsty - like your mouth" from a knowledgeable 7 year old. Oh, I could tell a dozen stories but the thing that has me thinking this week is hand-washing.

On Monday morning, after we pray, the very first thing we do is learn an important safety tip that helps us to keep everyone safe in the kitchen: always cook with clean hands. We line up and wash with soap for as long as it takes to sing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" at normal speed and then rinse, dry and go to our cooking stations. If a camper touches anyone else, or his or her own face, hair or ears, the camper is sent back to wash hands again. It's a little bit like Chutes and Ladders - back to the beginning with almost no notice. The kids police each other and somehow, my youth helpers managed to make everyone feel like it was okay to go back to the sink again and again. One budding cook came to me to report another camper's hair-touching-violation and enthusiastically demonstrated the scope of said violation by running her fingers through her own hair. When I pointed out that now she had to go wash her hands again she almost collapsed from laughing at herself. This is grace - to know that forgiveness is coming even as we commit the sin.

I think I'm going to try to live like my little camper and rid myself of "germs". I'm going to figuratively wash my hands in the baptismal font every time I catch myself in violation of the cardinal rule of loving God and loving neighbor. Instead of beating myself up, spending endless hours trying to figure out how to undo some thoughtless moment of insensitivity or neglect, or making deals with God to mitigate my guilt, I am going to go and wash my hands. I am going to make right what I can fix, tell God about my germs and then wash my hands in the waters of baptism and make a soapy sign of the cross on my forehead to remind myself that I am forgiven.

And I believe I'll sing as I row my boat gently down the stream of God's unlimited forgiveness:

Jesus loves me! He who died, Heaven's gates to open wide.
He will wash away my sin, let each little child come in!
Yes! Jesus Loves ME!

Raining Mercy

I arrived at work in the gentlest of rain showers this morning; it was wetter than mist but just barely rain. Both air and water were warm and I could have cheerfully stayed out in it until I was soaked. It was fitting weather for my mental meanderings about mercy.

I was thinking about the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10) because it's the lesson for this Sunday. Usually, when I think or talk about this lesson, I go straight to the "who is my neighbor?" question. This time, for some reason, what jumped out at me was the answer to that question, which is, "the one who showed him mercy". So, I got to thinking about mercy.

One of the first things to pop into my head was Portia's monologue from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice . It's a lovely passage, memorized by earnest 8th graders all over America in my day. Remember the bard's great words? "The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

So, in the rain this morning I found myself again thinking about mercy. I understood mercy so well as a child! Life was consistent for me and I knew the rules and the consequences and so when I was spared a deserved consequence I recognized mercy. In those situations mercy looked a lot like forgiveness or grace. Other times, it was a peer helping me bridge the gap of being the new kid - offering me a place at the lunch table or supplying an introduction to a teacher or student. In those situations, mercy was closer to kindness. In both cases though, the forgiveness or the kindness, mercy was not asked for by me nor coerced from the giver.

In the Good Samaritan story we are told that the Samaritan was moved by pity. I think that's why a parent revokes a well-deserved punishment or a child befriends a new kid at school - they are moved. Maybe pity isn't the best word. Other translations and paraphrases of the story say things like "his heart went out to him" or "he had compassion". That fits closer with my own experience and understanding of mercy but I really want to hang on to the idea that we are MOVED to be merciful. I think that is why it blesses us to show mercy - that impulse is a small encounter with God.

And then here's the part that could keep me standing outside in the rain for a long time - as soon as I start TRYING to be merciful I don't think that what I give will be mercy. It might be forgiveness, and it might be kindness, but it won't be mercy. I'm pretty sure I can only do mercy when God is working through me.

So mercy falls as gentle rain from heaven; may we be moved to mercy often. And if the spirit moves you - go out and play in the rain with some kids!

White Water Rafting

Sorry I'm late this week. I just returned from a conference for young leaders. It was energizing to see all the passion in these young people. One of the daily Bible studies there challenged us to take "divine risks". As we discussed the Samaritan woman at the well (see John 4) we realized that she not only took a risk by speaking to Jesus, she took an even bigger risk by telling everyone in her town about the encounter. The study was well done and many people took some big risks by entrusting other people with their stories.

The biggest water risk I've ever taken (intentionally anyway) was some pretty tame white water rafting in North Carolina. In fact, my biggest risk was letting my girls, who were in high school at the time, use kayaks instead of joining me and the other parents and younger children on the raft. While it was a fairly tame stretch of river, it had enough rapids to generate a thrill or two and one of our passengers went over the side into the drink. The guides took the raft through ahead of the kayaks so we were able to watch the kids come through various chutes and currents. The excitement, pride and joy evident on their faces was worth every minute of my fear. As the old saying goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained applies to faith as well. If I only trust God for what I can do myself, I'm not really trusting God. During that Bible study we were asked to share a time we took a "divine risk". The risk story I shared was small, but it yielded a big step in faith for me. I'm sure some of you have heard me tell it, so forgive the repeat.

A long time ago, when I was a single mom stretched pretty thin to make ends meet, I began working toward tithing - a practice I respected but hadn't practiced for a long time. I started at 1% and began working forward as I was able. I believe I had reached a point around 4% when something nudged me to try to do more. I decided to write a check equal to my FICA withholding (7.85% at the time - nearly double what my budget said I could manage) every payday and see how many weeks I could stretch that far. And guess what! God supplied what my little family needed - whether it was self-discipline or some real thing. God's power grew before my very eyes in this experiment. I never had to cut back to the 4% I believed I could manage. It was a wonderful gain from a simple venture.

As parents we work hard to keep our children safe from the whitewater of life. It's easy to set things up so that they rely on us, or themselves, rather than on God. We feel safer if they don't venture too far or reach too high. We encourage them to embrace risks we know aren't very risky. We hold them back because we are afraid for them. We need to be reminded that God is there in our risk taking and carries us forward even we're not in control of the raft. And, best of all, God will multiply faith with every risk taken.

Go ahead! Climb into the raft - God's in the water and there's a big adventure ahead for those who'll risk it!