Posts Tagged ‘abundant

06
Feb
19

MINE!

Eating an appleI hoped my wince went unnoticed.

But then I realized I was dealing with one of the most perceptive, most eagle-eyed people God ever created; my wife Joan. And so of course… she saw the wince as soon as it happened.

And in that same moment, I came face-to-face with a persistent, uncomfortable truth about myself.

Namely that I don’t share well. At all.

Hers was a perfectly reasonable request. I was sitting there at the table with Joan, eating and enjoying a luscious, ripe apple.

She then calmly reached out her hand and said, “Let me have a bite.”

And I winced.

I winced because my first gut response to my wife’s request was, “NO! I don’t want to give you a bite of my apple! I have every one of these bites mapped out in my mind and I intend to enjoy every single one of them!”

What a schmoe! I mean, who doesn’t give their spouse – or even an unrelated total stranger for that matter – a small morsel of food if they ask for it?

Which compels me to confess: sharing has been a problem for me for a long time… especially when it comes to sharing food. Sometimes I think I must sound like those seagulls in the movie Finding Nemo continually screaming, “MINE! MINE! MINE!”

And when my sweet wife asks me why I am so singularly bad at this simple human practice, my stock answer is, “Because I was the oldest of five kids! I had to fight tooth and nail for every mouthful at the family dinner table. It was HELL, I tell you!”

But that’s not completely true. Yes, I was the oldest of five kids growing up. Yes, times were tight now and then. But no, none of us were ever as deprived as I sometimes like to portray.

My stinginess bothers me. And yet, it persists.

It also causes me to wonder: is sharing anything like athletic ability… that is, something you’re either born with or not?

Somehow that doesn’t seem right. Surely sharing can be learned, can’t it?

Maybe my problem is that I attach too much importance to the item in question. Maybe – in my feverish and slightly out-of-kilter mind – I imagine that this apple, or this piece of key lime pie, or this book, or this Coca-Cola, or this $20 bill, is the key to my ultimate well being in the world and that letting go of even a small portion of it will do irreparable harm to my soul.

Whatever the case, I am sure my behavior in the matter of sharing is the exact opposite of Christ-like. Because when Jesus sat down and told the people there on the side of the hill, “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ … indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things…”(Matt. 6:31-32, NRSV), I’m pretty sure he was talking to me, too.

Actually, he is even a little more direct in Luke’s gospel: “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none, and whoever has food must do likewise.”(Luke 3:11, NRSV).

Busted!

I really don’t have a good answer for the origins of this personality flaw of mine, but maybe “where it came from” isn’t really the important issue here.

Maybe I just need to ask for your prayerful intervention as I simultaneously implore the Holy Spirit to do a little transformational work on me from the inside.

But I am curious…

  • Do you share well?

  • Have you always been a good “share-er”, or did you learn it later in life?

  • What helped you become better at sharing?
09
Jan
19

Leaf it to God

leaf rakingThe blowing wind woke me up this morning.

Check that… I meant to say, “The wildly blowing, nearly gale-force wind woke me up this morning.”

There, just outside our bedroom windows, I could see the branches of large trees swaying hypnotically, as if to some distant, unheard calypso beat.

No… it was not, as you might assume, some kind of meteorological catastrophe unfolding.

It was just Kansas being Kansas.

But then as I walked out to my driveway to see if there was still a newspaper there to retrieve, my heart sank. In the name of candor, I must also report that I may or may not have looked west to my next-door neighbor’s yard and muttered darkly toward him under my breath.

The scene I witnessed there was enough to break a middle-class suburban homeowner’s heart. As I stood on my driveway in my green bathrobe, hands on hips, I saw that the immaculate green carpet in front of MY house – from which only yesterday all brown, fallen leaves had been carefully removed – was now covered with a new carpet of brown, fallen leaves… blown over from next door by those gale-force Kansas zephyrs.

Grrrrr.

Yes, a substantial part of the disturbance in my soul was due, I’m sure, to the frustration of seeing a solid afternoon’s work wasted.

But I also recognized another source of my angst that dwelt a little deeper.

My leaf-bespoiled lawn also provided me with a vivid reminder of just how ephemeral and whispy this whole thing called CONTROL really is.

One minute you’ve got a pristine, leaf-free yard… the next minute you don’t.

In our house, this has been the season when that big party pooper CANCER dropped in and shattered our illusion of control.

It has been like suddenly waking up to find your dysfunctional and embarrassing uncle Fred has suddenly moved in with you. And, just like Fred does, he has begun making outrageous demands on your time, energy, and resources. Suddenly this unredeemable persona non grata is telling you when you can eat, when you can sleep, what to read, how to think, who to talk to, and even what to wear.

He burps, he farts, he coughs, he sneezes, he leaves messes behind, and never EVER cleans up or says “thank you” for ANYTHING!

You tell him you don’t appreciate his rudeness or sloth and that it is high time he hit the road… to absolutely no avail.

No… there are few things capable of doing greater damage to the idea of control than cancer.

But then, right there in the middle of your deepest grieving over its loss, you see another side of this whole “control” thing. You see – if you can pause, quiet your heart and look more closely – that it just might be OK to loosen your grip a bit.

You see that your previous notion of the degree of control you’ve sought over your life is a bit laughable… a little bit like a barnacle on the rudder of an ocean liner imagining it is steering the ship.

And you see something else too – if you look hard enough. You see that it is not only OK, but it is a good and joyful thing to surrender the goal of micromanaging all of life’s outcomes.

You come to make the words of the psalmist your own when he/she says, “Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea…”(Psalm 46:2, NRSV), and you are more than willing to, “Be still and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46:10), which necessarily means that YOU are not.

Taking your hands off of the steering wheel of your life can be very frightening… but only if you don’t know who is taking over.

Do you?

 

Abundant blessings;

22
Aug
17

Everyday Miracles

  • Eclipse friendsIt happens every time a microscopic seed grows into a brand new, fully functioning human being.
  • It happens every time this relentless muscle of my heart sends blood coursing through 60,000 miles of tiny vessels coiled inside my body.
  • It happens every time this precious blue pearl we live on spins soundlessly and perfectly along its path through space.
  • It happens every time a long dormant image from the past is retrieved from the dim recesses of my memory and comes to life again in the light of the present day.
  • It happens every time colors and sound and light merge in a way that stirs profound emotional responses within all who see and hear it.

And yes… it happened yesterday at approximately 1:03 p.m. Central Standard time. That was the moment we saw the miraculous intersection of our moon with our sun… a satellite 400 times smaller than the sun, and yet 400 times closer to us than the sun… intersected in a way that allowed the one to perfectly blot out the other.

Every single one of those things listed above can only be described with one word: miraculous.

But it seems that only when something truly rare and extraterrestrial happens – something like yesterday’s total eclipse of the sun – are we likely to raise our heads and hands to the sky exclaiming, “OOOH! Ahhhh!” and use words like, “Incredible!” and “Amazing!”

My wife and I traveled to St. Joseph, Missouri to see the Event of Totality with a small group of friends. We drove up the day before, trying to avoid the hundreds of thousands of people on the roads that the Missouri Highway Department predicted.

It was a cloudy day when we awoke and then started pouring rain as we ate our breakfast. In spite of all that, we were fired up for this rare and unusual phenomenon of nature. “What do they know, anyway?” we asked, in reference to the local weather forecasters who predicted cloudy, rainy skies at the moment of totality.

Turns out they knew a LOT.

 

Eclipse clouds

Our actual view of the sky just before totality.

It was a pretty dismal, gloomy day offering only the occasional glimpse of an actual sun through our special eclipse glasses.

 

As the moment approached, it got darker and darker. But hey… it was a cloudy day. Cloudy days are always darker than sunny days! Big, flipping deal!

Just as we were wallowing in our disappointment and self-pity, preparing to fold up our chairs and trudge home, IT HAPPENED!

TOTALITY!

True night-like darkness suddenly descended on us. Automatic headlights on cars came on. In a heartbeat, it became 10:30 at night, in spite of the fact that it was actually 1:03 in the afternoon.

It was amazing, exciting, spooky, and thrilling all at the same time.

And utterly, completely miraculous.

Psalm 8 came to mind… “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” (Psalm 8:3-4, NRSV).

I thought of Isaiah 55:9, “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts…”

The only appropriate response to an event of this cosmic magnitude was the guidance provided by Psalm 46:10, spoken by God through the psalmist, which urges us to, “Be still and know that I am God.”

The dictionary defines a miracle as “a surprising and welcome event that is not explainable by natural or scientific laws,” but I must respectfully disagree. I don’t think a thing has to be unexplainable to be called a miracle.

You see, miracles happen all around us, every day. Really smart people can explain the why and how, but I am not sure even the brainiest among us will ever be able to fully grasp the sheer amazingness woven through the fibers of this life we meander through every day.

Sometimes you just have to shake your head and say, “Oh my God!” followed very quickly by “Thank you… thank you… thank you.”

 

Abundant blessings;




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