SCULPTURAL SURPRISE

Sometimes people pay big money for an ice sculpture. They have swans carved out of ice adorning a punch bowl. They carve bears out of huge chunks of ice at winter festivals.

But, sometimes these beautiful ice sculptures just appear.  I was driving toward the trails to hike and there, against the brown of the trees and the grey of the sky was this bright, white modern art sculpture, created by a broken fire hydrant.

Sometimes we miss the accidental beauty that adds color to our life.  Sometimes we drive-by life so fast that its tender gifts of grace go unnoticed.  Sometimes we are so distracted by the flickering seduction of cultural's temptations that we fail to pause and take in the accidental moments of elegance that visit us.

I drove by this gift, then turned around and went home to get my camera. It is in our nature to share the gifts of grace we receive.  So, I share it today.  I don't want to miss the accidental beauty that comes my way.

PATIENCE

Out in the chill for my daily hike. Park in the State Park, bundle up, slip on my boots and take off.  Down the Fall Creek Trail--familiar, default trail.  Suddenly, a yellow ribbon blocking the way--trail closed for repairs.  Veer off and pick up something Creek Trail (can't remember the name--so familiar I don't even know it's name).  Press on with my familiar journey.

But, what's that?  I look up and there along the edge of the valley are people walking.  Another trail!! (When did they carve that one?) I went on toward the end of the trail I was on determined to take the new trail back. There is was, mostly hidden with brown leaves.  I was excited to find a new way through the old forest.  I was alert to the mud hidden under the leaves.  The virgin trail was uneven, not pressed down by thousands of feet.

It took me longer on the new trail to return to my car.  I had to pay more attention to where I was going. I had to look further ahead to see where the trail emerged from under the burden of leaves.

And a cool thing happened.  I saw the old forest from a new angle.  I had a different perspective.  The creek (still can't remember it's name) looked different from this vantage point.  I saw a white-tail deer gliding over dead logs into the deeper forest. 

I thought, "This is what it is like trying to live out New Year's Resolutions.  We are in the same forest of our lives, our old trails and patterns are familiar and we can often navigate them with speed.  But, when we take off in a new direction, when we try something that we haven't tried before, it takes longer.  We don't make as good a time."

But, when we slow down and our senses are on tip-toe, we get a new perspective.  We see things in a new light.  We open ourselves to appreciate the fullness of the life we are living.

It takes a little more patience to travel a new trail.  So, be kind to yourself as you navigate your way in the old forest of activities.  Don't beat yourself up when you have to give up something else.  You may slip and fall, but don't just lay there and give up the journey.  New trails can be risky, but they can open our eyes to the old world in a new way. 

SLOW DOWN

Sometimes it seems that with every change life gets faster and faster.  When something new comes along, we have to work to catch up with it.  I got a new journal and now there is more for me to read.  I heard of a new website from my grandson which opens up the whole world in new ways.  More to do.  To do it I have to do everything faster.

But, as the coming new year invites me to evaluate my life, I wonder if there might be more wisdom in slowing down than in speeding up.  Milan Kundera in his book Immorality writes about the difference between highways and roads. Highways are for getting from one point to another.  Roads are for walking and exploring what is along the way.  He says that our lives have become highways. When that happened "[t]ime became a mere obstacle to life, an obstacle that had to be overcome by ever greater speed."

As I begin this new year, I want to live time, not race through it.  I want to be where I am and not where I think I am going.  I think when I slow down and wander the back-roads of the soul, I will discover that life is what I experience now, not something that I am waiting to happen.

RESOLUTIONS

As we prepare for a new calendar year, many of us engage in an annual exercise of making resolutions. We resolve to do better as a parent, as an employer, as a person. We make lists of what we want to do to improve our self-image.

But, if you are like me, this often ends as an exercise in futility.  When I have made resolutions in the past, I usually am very good for a few days.  Then after a week, I begin modifying them because they do not seem achievable.  A couple of more weeks go by and I find that I am not even thinking about them.  Eventually they fade into the duties of daily existence.

I think one of the problems is that most of our resolutions to change fail to take into account what is being lost when we do a new thing.  If we resolve to spend more time helping others, it is important for us to also resolve to give up some of the things that keep us from doing that.  For example, if I resolve to give my time to feeding the homeless, I may have to give up some TV time (a Sunday afternoon NFL game?  Yikes!).  If I am not willing to lose something, odds are that I will not be able to fulfill my good intentions for the future.

To love a new life, one must lose some of the old life so that there is room for the new.  One must grieve the loss of that old life so it doesn't maintain control of our time in the future.  Resolutions function to help us know our desires as well as our addictions to certain present behavior.

As you make your resolutions for 2014, make a list of what you are going to give up in order to achieve them. Then grieve that loss and there will be room for the new.

CHAOS

What a mess!!  I sit here in the middle of chaos.  We are having new carpet installed in our house. Every room is filled with the stuff of our life--all in the wrong place.  Professional carpet layers are crawling around on the floor making sure that all is done right. An industrial sized radio is blaring country music.  What happened to my home?

So much of our feeling of well-being is related to the space we inhabit. Most of us work to create space where we feel safe and comfortable.  The stuff we have is there to help us be what we want to be or remind us of what we have been.  We arrange it and organize it so we can move with some comfort and ease. We organize our stuff in our house so it feels like home.

When that gets disrupted, we become anxious and sometimes hard to get along with.  We don't like feeling so unsettled. It is hard not knowing where our coffee pot is.

Fortunately, this will end.  The workers will leave this afternoon and we will begin to put our life back together. Some of the stuff will go back where it was.  Other stuff will find a new home. Some will leave via the church thrift shop.  In a few days, we will be back to some semblance of order.

Other disruptions and the ensuing chaos doesn't end as quickly.  When we lose people who help our life feel ordered and safe, we get angry and feel scared.  We are not just uncomfortable for a few days, but we may be disoriented for months or even years.  The empty chair at the holiday table is not just painful, but it is frightening.  We project that empty space into all the holidays in the future. It just doesn't feel good anymore.

Patience is an easy word to say and a terribly hard word to live. Yet, it takes a lot of it to endure the pain of the emptiness and find the energy to discover a new order in chaos we feel in the upheaval. It helps to find someone to share the space and the disorder with. Find someone to sit with and cry.  Find someone to listen to you as you talk your way forward. Speaking about your pain and fear helps you order your emotions so that you can imagine a new order in your life.