Diligent Joy Blog

Blowin' in the wind....

This morning, I was excitedly sharing with my spiritual support group about Breakfast with Buddha--a novel I've found beautiful in places.  I was talking about how I loved the joy in the book and the focus on love as what "makes go the world."  It reminded me of the button I had in college that said, "Love is the answer.  Now, what was the question?"

A character in the novel also describes God as music that is always playing--beautiful music--yet, not everyone can hear it.  Not everyone is listening.  With a clear mind, it is easier to listen; with a clear mind, it is easier to know that love is what makes the world go around. 

Fast forward to the dinner hour, where, in the midst of my realizing I'd started it quite late, my son arrives and announces the dog has just had an accident.  This particular rescue pup is prone to anxiety-induced random pees every once in awhile...While I deftly get the dog elsewhere, complete the stages of dinner that results in getting it into the oven, and clean up the accident, I ponder how to keep a clear mind.  Just as I am taking a deep breath and reminding myself that my stress level is really my choice at the moment, my son wonders out loud what type of candy he should dress up as tomorrow for spirit week.  I jokingly suggest he tie a pillow case over his head and go as a tootsie pop.  Just the visual makes me laugh out loud, especially when I realize he can't see with a pillow case over his head and would be running into God knows what all day.

Then I start to think, what kind of mother would think that's funny?  A human one.  One that is thankful for the Hurricane of Grace that surrounds her, even when she is not listening.  The air is dense with the aroma of dinner in the oven.  The dog has settled for a nap on the couch.  The son is ensconced in Spanish homework.  Perhaps I am hearing a note of that beautiful music after all.

Grace Among the Blackberries

I was picking blackberries the other day, and I got to thinking. Not native to our area, they are invasive, thorn-ridden pesty brambles that folks love to hate--except when they bear their annual fruit, at which time we all rush out to pick as many as we can to create delectable jams, cobblers, crisps and such.

As I navigated the thorns with bowl in hand, I began to think of the analogies with life.  Which parts do I look over, deeming them not good enough for my attention?  Which parts are not quite ready for my attention?  Which parts am I willing to make careful plans, go through thorns, and even put up with an injury or two to get at?  Which parts take me unaware?  Which parts are past any help?  Which parts stain my hands as I deal with them?  Which parts are sweet?  Sour?  Moldy?  Out of reach?  Hidden?

It's our attitude, I decided, that makes quite a difference in how we see things, be they blackberry bushes or life.  God created this plant, this life, and depending on our perspective (what's in it for me?), we see more prominently the thorns, the fruit, or the potential.

Fast forward to a meeting at church last night, where I was decidedly wearing thorn-colored glasses.  I vocalized my concerns, my complaints, my....issues.  This morning, as I was thinking about it, I was humbled.  I needed to take my own advice.  I was looking only at what was in the way and had forgotten to count my blessings.  I had forgotten that I am more than a body, more than a youth director, more than a congregant.  I am a Spirit, a Child of God, and I had momentarily lost my connection with that fruit and potential, only to be mired up in the thorny patch of "reality."

Reality is over-rated sometimes.  Or maybe I should say, what we define as reality is over-rated sometimes.  I am staring squarely at a choice of focusing on what could be or what is.  Byron Katie has done amazing spiritual work by living her belief of not only not resisting, but loving what is (she has a book by that name, by the way.....).   I can, as in so many situations in life, stay caught up in what I wish were true, what I think would be better or best, what I know could be only if....Or I can take stock of what is in front of me, practice gratitude, and move forward in grace.

This morning, I choose grace.  I've begun phone calls to let people know how I am grateful for them.  I am creating a new reality--one where I know I am Spirit in this body; much like our church is a place where God can hang out and inspire people to do Her work.  And I'm having blackberry cobbler for lunch.

Blinded by the light....

I took a walk bright and early yesterday, as it was the first day of school for one son, and I was up anyway.  I have to admit that my intentions of walking more regularly this summer did not manifest as I had hoped.  I simply didn't take the time to get myself out the door first thing in the morning, which is when I need to go or it just doesn't happen.

As I felt the familiar rhythm of my feet on the pavement, my mind began to settle, and what usually happens began to happen:  I remember stuff I need to do.  So, there I was, at 6:30 in the morning, on a beautiful late summer day, coming up with an acronym so I could remember all the stuff I needed to do when I got back home.  It wasn't very relaxing--more anxiety producing, because I began to worry I would forget all the stuff I was remembering.

As it was dawning on me that I was likely undoing any benefit from the walk by increasing my anxiety, I turned the corner, literally.  Then, as I was blinded by the angle of the bright sun, I noticed that the pavement seemed to be glittering, much like Edward does in the Twilight movie when he reveals his grotesque beauty to Bella (it took Stephanie Meyer to enlighten us that vampires don't necessarily burn up in the Pacific Northwest sunlight--they just glitter).  Anyway, at that moment, I turned the corner figuratively as well, realizing that I really could enjoy my walk, and it was the relaxed mind that remembered better than the anxious one.

Today, on the radio, I heard a new song by Francesca Battistelli, and some of the lyrics grabbed me:

I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
And on my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

Now, this cute young thing is all of about 20, but still, I loved the message.  It's ok that I'm not perfect--in fact, God wants me to be me.  And the dents in my fenders and rips in my jeans just mean I've been engaging in life. 

It's like when my dear grandmother had cataract surgery a few years ago.  I called to see how she was doing.  "OK," she sighed.  "What's wrong?" I asked.  "Well," she said, "now that I've had the surgery, I can see how many wrinkles I have!"  "Grandma," I said sincerely and with as much love as I could infuse in my voice, "you've earned every one of those beautiful wrinkles.  They are your wisdom lines." 

Now, I am growing my own wisdom lines, and they come with a few dents and rips and aches in other areas.  I like to think this means I am living my life well, and using it up.  I can't take it with me, so I might as well give what I've got while I'm here, and enjoy as many moments as I can.  I'm pretty sure God would want that.  I just need to keep the faith that temporary blindness can make way for clear vision.

Read about things falling apart.....

on my blog at www.waysideucc.org.

Everything I Need to Know About Life, I Learned in a Boat....

For someone who spent a lot of her growing up years amidst corn fields in the midwest, I now spend a fair amount of time in and around water.  Especially in the summer, when our family takes to our old ski boat turned wake-board boat, I am often more wet than dry on a given day.

This year, like many before, we have made the trek East to warmer temps (well, except for that record-breaking heat wave in Seattle that we missed by being in Idaho), warmer water, and relaxing days on the boat.  Our second week of vacation this year included six teen boys, ranging in age from 16 to almost 20--from a junior in high school to two college sophomores.  They are the nicest guys--their niceness punctuated by some rude and crude and politically incorrect moments, laughter, encouragement, and lots of snacks and energy drinks.

As we hit the water today (you go first, Amy!--no one else wanted to be first in the cold river....), I was struck by what an analogy for life our boat can be.  We have had a full boat this week, so the weight of all these big guys needs to be distributed evenly for smooth rides.  We hope for calm water (in boating terms, "glass") but sometimes get waves and wind--or both in the same ride.  We have people watching who is behind the boat, to encourage, clap or cheer when they've done something new, and hold the flag up when they fall to signal to other boats there's a person down.  We have a tower to help wake boarders be more successful in their endeavors, and a bimini for shade.  We have soap to make it easier to get the boards on, and we patiently change the rope length depending on who's turn it is.

Sometimes, a few of us have to sit out so someone can take a run without so many of us in the boat.  We all wear life jackets when we get in the water, and we wear sunscreen in the sun.  We bring snacks and drink along for the ride, and share towels when one of us is wet and cold.  Sure, there are cranky moments, but by and large, we are a big team-family on the boat, all working to help each other be successful and have fun.

I was thinking how great it would be if everyone had this in their lives more of the time--life jackets when getting in rough water, a flagger to alert others when they need to maneuver more carefully around your friend.  People to cheer when you try something new, and cool drinks and snacks for when we need a break.  How nice it would be if we could all prevent ourselves from getting burned and if we could get out of the heat whenever we needed to.  I was thinking that, if we were all there for each other a little more, how much more relaxing life might be, even when the water gets a little rough, or there's an unexpected gust of wind and your life doesn't handle quite as well as it does when the water is flat calm.

My favorite quote of all times is from Mother Theresa, and it happened to be on the N-Sid-Sen camp shirts this year:  We do not do great things, only small things with great love.  The more we put love into the small details of life, the richer and lovelier it is.  The more we surround ourselves with an encouraging team, the easier it is to get through the challenging times. So, today, I have a wish for you:  May you always have a life jacket when you need one, a flagger to provide support and safety, and a loving team you've chosen to be in your boat, no matter what the weather conditions.

Rough Waters

It's another emotional summer around here.  Last year, we launched our first child; this year, good family friends are launching their first...or last.  Either way, our summer experiences have been punctuated by a tenuousness--will this be the last time we...go to camp together?  all participate in swim team in some way?  have family vacations with all of us?  see these dear boys/young men? 

As I navigate through these waters that are becoming reluctantly familiar to me, I also hear the pain and strain of good friends whose marriages are in trouble.  Some didn't make it past the changes of having children; others collapsed in the midst of rearing children with special needs, drug and alcohol use, arrests, abuse.  But an unusually large number seem to be finding that, once the children are gone, they have grown so far apart that they can no longer see the relationship they once had or hoped for.

I am grateful for my marriage, which has been nearly 23 years of laughter, tears, anger, intimacy, happiness, and incredibly hard work. Simultaneously, I am saddened for those who have not found the help and support we did in order to get through those rough times, and who face an uncertain future--perhaps alone, perhaps relieved, perhaps starting anew.

Exhausted from a week at camp, I attended the graduation party of a dear friend of my son's, with whose parents I am also fortunate enough to be close friends.  We have shared much of our families with each other over the years.  Watching a slide show of this young man's growing up years, I teared up.  So did his dad.  We had a few teary moments with each other reviewing how much we've meant to each other as our children have grown.  Our spouses gracefully exited to remove themselves from the emotional display in the kitchen and converse elsewhere....

I was reminded of a youth group activity from a couple of years ago.  Imagining that Christ's head was at one end of the room and His feet at the other, we placed ourselves one at a time where we thought we were in terms of doing His work here on earth.  Many chose the hands or feet.  Some the head.  I chose the heart, saying, "because I just love everybody so much."  They laughed and agreed that was a good place for me. 

But it takes all of us to do Christ's work.  We need those who keep their heads, and those who love everyone.  Those who will travel with their feet to wherever the work is, and those who will use their hands to do the work.

And now, as I look around at the changes happening in families of dear friends, I know we all need to be the arms of Christ to put around each other and hang on as we maneuver through the rough waters of change.

Grace and Gratitude

Savoring the moment is one of the characteristics associated with life satisfaction, along with gratitude.  There are few things I savor more than a sunny summer morning.

Where I live, these are relatively rare.  This year, though, we've had an abundance of them, and I have found myself beginning to take them for granted.  This morning, though, I took my coffee outside to our gazebo to simply sit and be with the morning.

I love the sound of the birds, busy already with their bird business.  I love the sunlight and shadows on the deck and how the sunlight shimmers off the worn screens on the back of our house.  I love the absence of people noises and the temperature and density of the air.  Up here in the Pacific Northwest, even summer morning air is cool and full of dew, and on occasion, the clean, salty smell of the Puget Sound. God's grace seems to abound.

I love noticing the contrasts between light and shadow, cool air and warm coffee, quiet and chirping.  For some reason, on mornings like this, I find it easy to sit and "do nothing" for quite a while.  But am I really doing nothing?  Or am I taking time to notice, observe, savor the world around me?  Something that I rarely do in the busy-ness of most days.

In my spiritual readings last week, the focus was on gratitude.  I love gratitude!  Gratitude can change my attitude from cranky and annoyed to centered and peaceful in a relatively short period of time.  Cultivating gratitude is worth the time and effort to learn.  A line from the reading struck me:  God is grateful for you.  I had not taken that perspective before.  I have been grateful for all God has given and done--but to think that God is grateful for me?  Really?  But I'm so imperfect. 

The ideas shared went on to claim that God has created us, and we are savor-able and worthy of His/Her gratitude because we exist.  If we have caveats to that grace, then we are not forgiving ourselves or someone else.  Wow.  God's gratitude seems to be as unconditional as Her/His love.

I find myself approaching this concept slowly, catching glimpses of it from time to time, testing to see if it could really be true, peeking around corners to see if it's still there.  I have a feeling that it's much like a sunny summer morning:  full of delight and there for my savoring, if only I will take the time.   

A Little Slice of Heaven

Here's the thing.  I don't go to church much in the summer.  I spend time with my family relaxing, visiting, going to family (church) camp, and boating.  But I'm not often in that lovely sanctuary between mid June and September.

Today, I wake up.  There is laughter downstairs from my son and his friend.  I get up and make coffee, lunches, pack the cooler.  We are going on the boat.  The house is messy--leftover items from a swim meet are strewn on the stairs and in the entryway.  I don't care.

We get ready and are pulling out of our street in record time for us--8:12 a.m.  We drive down the freeway in the early morning quiet, casually discussing Harry Potter past and present.  We have two extra teen boys with us, for a total of four.  When we pull into the top of the boat launch, my husband sighs happily.  Glass on the water.

We put the boat in the water and drop off three teens to wait on the tube while we pull Eric for the first run, which he routinely takes, and then happily pulls everyone else the rest of the day.  I go next, doing a spectacular face plant on some errant waves, then have a fabulous run.  We take each of the boys, cheering as they get up, get in and out of the wake, do jumps and tail grabs, attempt and almost land a 360. 

We say hi to friends who live on the island on the lake.  We retrieve the tube, head to the cove and have lunch.  A pontoon boat full of young women comes by, loudly proclaiming it is one of their birthdays.  They entreat our boys to dance to the music we are playing.  They decline politely and sun bathe on the tube and back of the boat. 

We run our eldest back to the dock so he can go to work, then head back to the cove to retrieve the others and take them tubing on the now wavey lake.  They are laughing, bouncing, falling off.  I go to the front of the boat to sit and enjoy the ride. 

There is really nothing more wonderful I can think of to be doing on a gorgeous Saturday in the summer.  The zen of being in the moment, watching these guys laugh and play, hanging out with my family and friends, reading to them from a book that is interesting--connecting and laughing.  What more could I possibly want?

I don't go to church much in the summer.  Today, I am in heaven.

MOBs

There are strengths I have developed as a mother of sons that are (most likely) decidedly different than ones I may have developed as a mother of daughters.  Alas, I will never know for sure what might have been, but I do know what is. 

I have philosophized about this with other moms (we came up with an an acronym--MOBs for Mothers of Boys).  We agree there is a directness we have cultivated over the years that has at times surprised us and is unlike how we imagined ourselves to be as parents when we began the journey.  This comes from years of experiences like coming home to car bumper parts a strewn across the living room and the entry way looking, once again, as though a sporting goods store has vomited all over it.

I have recently renewed the gift to myself of a house-cleaning service.  Somehow, I hesitate to reveal this knowledge to the general public, even though I know many moms who also avail themselves of this nurturing help.  Come to think of it, most of them are moms of boys.  Of course, our male offspring are capable of cleaning, and they do--mine mostly under duress.  My job is to remind them that these are life skills they need and to continue to require cleaning help from them, even though we have a service that helps out every couple of weeks.  Their job is to THINK about what an appropriate place is for car bumper parts and sporting goods equipment.

All in all, we have wonderful children.  As I watched them wake-boarding and tubing behind our old boat this weekend, with duct-taped seat cushions and faded life jackets, I realized that this family connection time is precious.I love being with them, laughing with them, playing with them.  I doubt I would have learned to wake-board after age 40 if I did not have boys.  I doubt I would laugh at their off-color parody of rap music if I did not have boys.  I  probably would not have the same perspective I have about fireworks (stay legal and stay safe) and stinky socks (not on the counters!) had I not had housefuls of boys visiting, vacationing with us, and growing up around me.

I pay homage to all the moms who have joined me on the journey.  Special thanks goes to the Ski Beach moms at family camp--an annual ritual where the moms have hung out on the beach, solving our deepest and most heart-wrenching parenting issues in the safety and comfort of friends who are further down the road than we are.  Moms who lovingly tell us where to let go and what is important to hang on to.  This group has had such power and miraculous love associated with it that I have had, on occasion, a non-camp mom request I take an issue to the camp moms for advice.  How would the world be different if every mom had access to this loving circle?

One recent summer day, my husband was mildly admonishing me for some misinterpretation of male adolescence.  I reminded him, rather hotly, that he had had it pretty easy as a dad.  With the exception of a short period of preschool interest in Barbies and nail polish, he'd pretty much missed Disney Princesses, glitter, pink everything, and many other gender-related experiences, while I have endured (hand on my forehead) tomahawk throwing contests, cigar smoking on 18th birthdays, bumpers in the living room, and the like.  He acquiesced. Hm mph.

Now, as these sons and their friends graduate from high school in waves, some are contemplating ROTC or other military connections. I grieve and thank God, guiltily, that my sons have not chosen this route (yet....). Still, I have a strength I would not have otherwise had, and realize that the gift I can give them is clear questions about their motives, their futures, their dreams.  And then, I can give them support and a place to come home to.  I can feed them, love them, laugh with them, and celebrate the men they are becoming.  Yes, I'm pretty sure God knew what She was doing when She gave me boys.   

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

We've been having the most beautiful stretch of weather here in the Northwest.  Uncharacteristically warm and sunny for an uncharacteristically long period of time this time of year.  Often, we have days of sun, followed by much cooler, damper days.  But this is our third week of sunny, warm weather, and I am loving it!

I find myself in such a lovely mood, especially when I awaken to a sunny morning.  My energy is up; I want to get up and not miss any of the sunny day.  I want to sit outside, breathe the warm, soft air;  smell the soft, sweet scents from all things a-bloom--ahhhhh.  I relax just thinking about it.

One day, I found myself considering this on a deeper level.  Have you ever taken off from a cloudy location on an airplane and climbed above cloud level to the flying altitude?  If you have, you know that it's sunny up there above the clouds.  Logical, yes, but also a bit magical.

There's a saying out here in the Seattle area on sunny days when you can see the majestic mountains, especially Mt. Rainier.  People say, "Oh, look! The mountain is out today!"  As if it weren't there the other days.  Sort of like not realizing the sun is up there shining away above the clouds.

That got me to thinking.  I wonder if I remember this when it gets cloudy and rainy again.  That the sun IS there; I just can't see it.  The mountains ARE there, even if they are not visible. 

Taking it to another level, the lovableness of our family members and friends IS there, even when we aren't noticing.  The divinity of each person--the Christ-like qualities--ARE there; it is up to us to notice them and keep them visible on the cloudy days.  And God's love IS there for us, each and every moment of each and every day--we just need to see it, feel it, and accept it.

What would the world be like if we could see all the sunshine, even on cloudy days?  Ahhhhhh.