"Not sure how I feel about that."
Those are the words she said, but what I heard was more like, "I do not approve of that."
They sounded judgmental to my ears, almost like "I do not approve of you."
...
Different occasion:
"I'm not sure what to think about that."
Those were the words that came out of my mouth. I did not mean them to be judgmental or disapproving, but I now realize that they may well sound that way in the ears of someone hearing them. Someone who felt like I disapproved of them.
...
Two separate conversations.
Two separate issues.
Similar words.
Totally different understanding.
What made the difference?
...
Probably the main difference is that one time I was the hearer, the judged, from whom approval was being withheld. In the other instance I was the speaker, and possibly the judge.
Is it possible that the first speaker did not intend to judge me?
Maybe. But I certainly felt judged.
Is it also possible that someone hearing the second conversation may have felt judged by me, may have felt the lack of my approval, even though that was not my intent?
Maybe. I must admit that my words may have sounded like judgment.
...
Moral of the story:
Be aware that my words may come out sounding like disapproval even when I don't mean them that way. Duh.
Another difference could be the tone of the two conversations. The first was full of questions - almost an interrogation. The second was mostly listening. Learning.
Yep, listening is usually a good thing.
I could learn to do more listening.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Thankful Thursday: Forty-Two Years Together
I have been practicing Thankful Thursday for a couple years now. I do not want to take for granted the many blessings I have been given. Instead I want to live with a sense of wonder and appreciation and gratitude.
Some Thursdays I have to stop and think about it before I come up with something. I guess that would prove that this is a good exercise in helping me pause and be more aware. Other weeks there is something obvious that I am already feeling thankful for. Some weeks I pick something little and sometimes it's a biggie. Sometimes I make a list of several things.
Today is Thursday and this time it's a biggie for which I am thankful. Yesterday marked forty-two years married to an amazing man. That's forty years in the house we built together plus one year before building it and now one year since moving out. That's forty-two years of better and worse, of richer and poorer, of sickness and health, of loving and cherishing and being loved and cherished.
I remember those early days when I knew in my head that we would (hopefully) grow to love each other even more than we did then, but I could not imagine how that would be possible. That did, in fact, turn out to be true and now I can not imagine life without this man.
I remember how proud I felt to wear his ring and to have the world know he was mine. I also remember losing the diamond out of my engagement ring and realizing that our rings were but a tiny part of what we had given to each other and what we shared together.
After this many years, our aging bodies remind us that we should indeed be thankful for the good days, the rich times, the healthy times. We realize that we have no promise of more weeks or years and that we should be doing the things that we still want to do. For example, before we were married, we talked of being happy together in Alaska, but we haven't made it there yet, so it's time to make that a priority.
The only thing that could taint my happiness is the knowledge that this relationship has been more than a bit lopsided. He has given me far more than I have given him and he has put up with more crap from me then I have had to deal with from him. He has built desks and bookshelves and cupboards and closets for me - not to mention a house or two. He has painted paintings and recorded music for me and grilled pork chops for me. He has taken me camping and to foreign countries and out to dinner. He has been patient and he has supported me in my dreams. He has loved me well.
I am grateful for this lopsided deal - grateful and amazed.
I look forward to lots more Thankful Thursdays together.
I plan to enjoy every week that we have and to keep finding ways to celebrate.
On this Thursday, I am so very thankful.
Some Thursdays I have to stop and think about it before I come up with something. I guess that would prove that this is a good exercise in helping me pause and be more aware. Other weeks there is something obvious that I am already feeling thankful for. Some weeks I pick something little and sometimes it's a biggie. Sometimes I make a list of several things.
Today is Thursday and this time it's a biggie for which I am thankful. Yesterday marked forty-two years married to an amazing man. That's forty years in the house we built together plus one year before building it and now one year since moving out. That's forty-two years of better and worse, of richer and poorer, of sickness and health, of loving and cherishing and being loved and cherished.
I remember those early days when I knew in my head that we would (hopefully) grow to love each other even more than we did then, but I could not imagine how that would be possible. That did, in fact, turn out to be true and now I can not imagine life without this man.
I remember how proud I felt to wear his ring and to have the world know he was mine. I also remember losing the diamond out of my engagement ring and realizing that our rings were but a tiny part of what we had given to each other and what we shared together.
After this many years, our aging bodies remind us that we should indeed be thankful for the good days, the rich times, the healthy times. We realize that we have no promise of more weeks or years and that we should be doing the things that we still want to do. For example, before we were married, we talked of being happy together in Alaska, but we haven't made it there yet, so it's time to make that a priority.
The only thing that could taint my happiness is the knowledge that this relationship has been more than a bit lopsided. He has given me far more than I have given him and he has put up with more crap from me then I have had to deal with from him. He has built desks and bookshelves and cupboards and closets for me - not to mention a house or two. He has painted paintings and recorded music for me and grilled pork chops for me. He has taken me camping and to foreign countries and out to dinner. He has been patient and he has supported me in my dreams. He has loved me well.
I am grateful for this lopsided deal - grateful and amazed.
I look forward to lots more Thankful Thursdays together.
I plan to enjoy every week that we have and to keep finding ways to celebrate.
On this Thursday, I am so very thankful.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Values for 2013
June is the middle of the year - not a bad time to evaluate what a year is about. Normally I shy away from New Year resolutions - because I don't have a good success rate with them - or with most goals in general. Near the beginning of this year, I heard someone* talking about choosing a value for the year rather than setting goals. I liked the idea a lot, but I couldn't pick just one. Yah, I've never been good at narrowing my focus, which just might maybe relate to my failure at finishing goals.
But I did come up with a little list of things that I wanted to value for 2013 - and I got especially geeked when they lined themselves up rather alliteratively.
I value these things for 2013:
- Writing
- Wellness
- Wideness
- Wisdom
- Wonder
Writing is the one that is most about activity and accomplishment, but it is also about my identity. I am beginning to think of myself as a writer and to think of writing as my work. No longer do I feel guilty for spending too much time doing the things that make up my writing work. To the contrary, I choose to value my writing work and to make time for it in my calendar.
Wellness speaks to me of awareness and attitude and action. Rather than thinking about what I should or shouldn't do, I want to value wellness in my choices about activity, food, rest, stress, and healthy boundaries and in the priorities in my schedule.
Wideness takes me back to an old hymn from my childhood: There's a wideness in God's mercy like the wideness of the sea. I want my mercy and compassion and kindness to be broad rather than tight and narrow and judgmental and restrictive and I hope that my world keeps growing ever wider with people who are different from me.
Wisdom is something that I have long wished to attain and have tried to pursue. I really, really want to be wise in my own personal decisions as well as in my treatment of other people.
Wonder beckons me in recent years. I want to thrill in the wonder and awe of this life and this world. I also choose to value the exercise of wondering about things that I struggle to understand - things from how the solar system works to how a soft answer can possibly turn away wrath. Hence the name of my blog.
...
So how am I doing?
Since my purpose was simply to value these things, it seems that I have been rather successful. I keep the list where I can see it regularly and I often think about these things when making choices about what to think or how to spend my time. I can say for sure that my appreciation for these items continues to increase - which might be an indication of success. In fact, I find myself thinking that they may be a good list to keep for life.
...
Some people write a personal mission statement. I have often wanted to have one, but have not yet succeeded in getting it together. Other people choose a life verse or some kind of motto they live by. And yes, lots of people set goals and actually complete them.
Please leave a comment about what works for you.
What do you value?
...
* Credit for this idea goes to James Prescott, a fellow student in the Tribe Writers' course I've been taking. When I wrote the above post, I could not remember where I had heard the idea, but came across it in some notes today. Read his post about it here. Thanks, James; the idea has been valuable to me.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Oh, the changes a day can bring!
I have distinct memories of that day. I was meeting with some close friends that afternoon. We heard the sound of a siren coming up the highway and noticed that it seemed to be stopping right out front. This is quiet farm country so we went outside and watched as the ambulance turned west on Adams Road. I think I breathed a prayer for those involved as I often do when I hear sirens. I never thought about my brother owning property over there at the end of the road – or that it might be my family who was dealing with a crisis.
After we had been back inside for a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and my sister-in-law appeared telling me that my dad had died. We got in her truck and went to the field. My brother took me to the tractor where Daddy was slumped over – as if he had just fallen asleep. I will always be grateful for that opportunity to see him looking so peaceful in that tractor cab. It was somehow comforting for me in the days to come. Plus I guess it was my chance to say good-bye.
I also have a whole wagon-load of memories from the next few days – listening to so many testimonials about the life of this man. As I heard the sentiments of those who had been touched by his life, this thought emerged: “Some people love things and use people. This man was different in that he used things and loved people.” He didn’t really care that much about things; making it crazy difficult it was to find something to buy him for Christmas. Last year's new wallet was still in the box because the old one wasn't worn out yet. But he did care about people and they knew that he loved him.
But more than that day, and more than those stories, I’ve been remembering him in ordinary life. Day after day as I mow the grass around this place – up and down the rows of Christmas trees – I think about my dad. He and his dad perhaps had toiled to clear the trees from this land so that they could farm it and. I ponder the irony – that we had the nerve to ask him to help us plant trees on these cleared tillable acres. He may have thought that was a move in the wrong direction, but he didn’t scold us. Instead he cheerfully drove that little old Ford tractor towing the little one-row planter with my husband perched on the planter seat, inserting Scotch pine seedlings into the ground – one at a time – row after row.
Those seedlings did indeed mature into beautiful Christmas trees and some years later my dad again came to help on the “west 40” – this time driving an old John Deere tractor and serving the customers who came to buy Christmas trees. He relished his role as host and guide – giving wagon rides, making customers feel welcome and helping them build family memories. How fun to see his old “train conductor” hat put to such good use.
...
And now he's gone - some seventeen years. The Christmas trees have grown up to make this place a glorious green retreat just waiting for the right buyer to come along and snatch it up. All of us have grown up since then, too - or at least we have grown... in lots of ways.
Things change - through the passing years so that we hardly notice - and sometimes in a day when everything is suddenly different. We notice those days and we remember.
June 4, 1996, was one of those days.
...
Do you have memories of my dad, too? Please leave a comment to share one of yours.
...
Compiled from bits and pieces written on this date through the years...
After we had been back inside for a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and my sister-in-law appeared telling me that my dad had died. We got in her truck and went to the field. My brother took me to the tractor where Daddy was slumped over – as if he had just fallen asleep. I will always be grateful for that opportunity to see him looking so peaceful in that tractor cab. It was somehow comforting for me in the days to come. Plus I guess it was my chance to say good-bye.
I also have a whole wagon-load of memories from the next few days – listening to so many testimonials about the life of this man. As I heard the sentiments of those who had been touched by his life, this thought emerged: “Some people love things and use people. This man was different in that he used things and loved people.” He didn’t really care that much about things; making it crazy difficult it was to find something to buy him for Christmas. Last year's new wallet was still in the box because the old one wasn't worn out yet. But he did care about people and they knew that he loved him.
But more than that day, and more than those stories, I’ve been remembering him in ordinary life. Day after day as I mow the grass around this place – up and down the rows of Christmas trees – I think about my dad. He and his dad perhaps had toiled to clear the trees from this land so that they could farm it and. I ponder the irony – that we had the nerve to ask him to help us plant trees on these cleared tillable acres. He may have thought that was a move in the wrong direction, but he didn’t scold us. Instead he cheerfully drove that little old Ford tractor towing the little one-row planter with my husband perched on the planter seat, inserting Scotch pine seedlings into the ground – one at a time – row after row.
Those seedlings did indeed mature into beautiful Christmas trees and some years later my dad again came to help on the “west 40” – this time driving an old John Deere tractor and serving the customers who came to buy Christmas trees. He relished his role as host and guide – giving wagon rides, making customers feel welcome and helping them build family memories. How fun to see his old “train conductor” hat put to such good use.
...
And now he's gone - some seventeen years. The Christmas trees have grown up to make this place a glorious green retreat just waiting for the right buyer to come along and snatch it up. All of us have grown up since then, too - or at least we have grown... in lots of ways.
Things change - through the passing years so that we hardly notice - and sometimes in a day when everything is suddenly different. We notice those days and we remember.
June 4, 1996, was one of those days.
...
Do you have memories of my dad, too? Please leave a comment to share one of yours.
...
Compiled from bits and pieces written on this date through the years...
Monday, June 3, 2013
Church Matters
Yes, church matters.
If the church is the "body" of Jesus, then it matters greatly. The church can and should be a powerful force for good when it is in the business of love and grace and healing and forgiveness and delivering Good News. However, at times throughout history the church has also been a powerful force for harm - and this ought not to be. This unbelievably sad reality damages and destroys people as well as the reputation of the church.
"Church matters" can also refer to the business of the Kingdom that so many of us have been caught up in. These church matters can drain our energy and dominate our time and our thinking - especially if we are in a leadership role, but even if we are "just" lay people. While it can be argued that any organization will need some kind of organizational structure, it is wise to remember that we are not called to bow down to the structure nor to people in positions of power.
During the decades that I invested my time and energy in church matters, I learned a lot about what matters to many in the church world. I have sat through discussions about the four P's that church leaders need to discuss: purpose, people, program, property. Some of the discussions were lively and fun while others were neither lively nor fun - discussions about how those four things should line up and about how they really land in each of our churches. Then there are the rules to live by - the things by which we judge spiritual growth or personal holiness. What a crazy long list that one is!
I do not blame any person(s) for the setting of external standards; indeed, I dared to "instruct" on the "standards of life and conduct" and to encourage steps of spiritual growth. What I mean to say here is that I have finally realized that many of those church matters are not what really matters.
Are there steps that lead to spiritual growth? Quite probably, just like there are steps to other kinds of growth. Will there be evidence of maturity in the lives of believers? I certainly hope so. What I object to is the practice of measuring "spirituality" or "holiness" or even worth and value by outward appearance - things like church attendance, tithing, philosophy of ministry, preferred style of music, volunteerism, time management, Bible reading or memorization, diet, habits, political affiliation, or other external behavior.
...
Quite possibly the preceding paragraphs provide more detail about church matters than most of my readers would ever want to know. Indeed. But yes, church matters seem to really matter to church people. My whole point is that we are missing the point if we obsess about these things.
...
So what really does matter?
At this point, I can only answer for myself as part of the body of Christ. To do that, I try to focus on Jesus, on His life and teachings as my example. I know that love and grace are probably the things that matter most - as well as forgiveness and generosity and healing.
In fact, I just might come up with my own list of what I believe the church should be about: reconciliation, redemption, and restoration.
I believe these are things that really matter.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
No use for adventures!
"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone."
"I should think so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!"
"I should think so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!"
- J.R.R. Tolkien
Saturday, June 1, 2013
How could the end be happy?
Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.
My friend is in the middle of the story - where it's all wrong. Full of darkness and danger. Wondering how the end could be happy when so much bad has happened.
That particular part of my story has passed. That dark and dangerous part. That shadow. Sure enough; even darkness must pass. A new day has come. The sun shines out the clearer.
I want to encourage my friend to hold on, but I do not want to be insensitive to the danger and the fear. May I always remember enough of the dark parts of the story to be a good friend.
How about you? Where are you in your story? Is it still dark and dangerous or has the sun begun to shine again? Are you able to remember the great stories - the ones that really matter - and to see that you might be in the middle of one? Can you find something - anything - to hold on to?
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.
...
My friend is in the middle of the story - where it's all wrong. Full of darkness and danger. Wondering how the end could be happy when so much bad has happened.
That particular part of my story has passed. That dark and dangerous part. That shadow. Sure enough; even darkness must pass. A new day has come. The sun shines out the clearer.
I want to encourage my friend to hold on, but I do not want to be insensitive to the danger and the fear. May I always remember enough of the dark parts of the story to be a good friend.
...
How about you? Where are you in your story? Is it still dark and dangerous or has the sun begun to shine again? Are you able to remember the great stories - the ones that really matter - and to see that you might be in the middle of one? Can you find something - anything - to hold on to?
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