CURSED

I read this today in the Writer’s Almanac: ”My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate.” (Thornton Wilder)

How, I wonder, does one like me, cursed with a compulsion to comprehend, live such advice. It seems as if my drive to understand, to take things apart and comprehend what and why, becomes so strong sometimes that I lose track of the ice cream melting on my plate.

I do know that some of the compulsion is driven by anxiety. When I get anxious about something, I want to collect more information about it. When I am anxious about losing something that is important to me, I want to know more about what people are doing. I start digging, asking questions, sharing information and seeking knowledge.  The word “why” is inflated and fills the room, taking away breathing space for something else.

Seeking knowledge is not bad things. I was nurtured at the breast of knowledge.  Seeking understanding is a virtue. The more we understand about what is happening and what others are thinking and doing, the more likely we are to respond appropriately. A lack of understanding often leads to actions that do not turn out as good as we had hoped.

But, when a seeking to understand gets intensified by fear it becomes a compulsion. And when we are obsessed with comprehending, we are often blinded to the life that is right in front of us.  We wrestle around in our mind with our conundrum while the ice cream drips off the plate to be licked up off the floor by the cat.

So, I want to follow Thornton Wilder’s advice and eat my ice cream while it is on the plate. I think I will have to spend some time looking at what is right in front of me instead of worrying too much about the future that I can’t control. Maybe then I can enjoy more fully the gifts of pleasure that make up my life.

WHEN VISION FAILS

There are times in our lives when we lose our way. The path we are walking becomes overgrown or we are dropped down in a wilderness of unknowing where the way forward is hard to see. Our vision dims and the future we once saw has evaporated. What do we do when we can't see a way forward?

I was once lost in a woods. I had decided to get off the path trampled by humans and follow deer tracks. Deer must be able to squeeze through more underbrush than I can and before long I didn't know which way I was going. I lost track of the deer path and eventually was just walking, one foot in front of the other. It was getting dark and I began to feel anxious. 

I could not see my way out of the woods. So, I started listening. I listened carefully to the sounds and I became aware of low rumbling (trucks passing on the road I had taken to get to the woods). That helped orient me as I knew that the road ran north and south. I listened more and became aware of faint music. Must be life in that direction. So, I followed the sound.

I think when we can't see a vision for our future, we might listen for a direction. Sighted people tend to trust our sight more than what we hear.  But, at times we can't see very far forward and we have to learn to develop other senses. We have heard that God speaks in a still small voice.  Maybe when we are scared and don't know which way to turn we can slow our panicked heart, close our eyes and listen for hints of the direction we might go. We may not know where we are going to come out, but at least we can take courage that there might be hints in what we hear. And if we walk forward with courage, our vision might clear and our future might become more vivid.

DEFINING OURSELVES

Next to my desk is a picture of Deb that I love. She is celebrating life. Her face is raised to the sun, her arms outstretched, receiving the sheer delight of being alive. Next to the picture she posted this statement: "Defining oneself, as opposed to being defined by others, is one of life's most difficult challenges."

I have been thinking about this lately. I have been feeling things that I don't like. I have allowed the actions of others control my feelings and my thoughts. I have sometimes lost sleep. Sometimes the actions of others become so powerful inside my mind that I am unable to be what I want to be. Defining oneself is indeed one of life's most difficult challenges.

As I have wrestled with these things, I remember years of leading congregations. When there are several hundred people in a community there are multiple occasions when people's actions would plant themselves right in the middle of my consciousness. I had to continue to work and do ministry while my feelings about their actions kept distracting me. I remember working consciously to remember that I am in charge of myself. I did not want others to define me.  I did not want other's actions to determine my action. I want to act out of my own values, not the values of others.

So, as I took my thoughts and my feelings for a hike today, I decided that I will take control of my own response to what is happening around me.  I am impacted by what others do and say, and I have feelings of anger and pain. But, I will work to treat others as I want to be treated. That way I can live with myself. I will be who I decide I want to be.

LOVED BY A BROKEN HEART

Every adult I know has one. I know no one who does not have a heart peppered with scars. Hearts who love are hearts that are broken—by death, disappointment, divorce, betrayal, misunderstanding, denied dreams.  Everyone who has loved has felt deep wounds in the losses that are part of our changing lives.

So, this means that what we have to give each other is love by a broken heart. We are imperfect and scarred. Parts of our heart are not working as generously as other parts. Some of what we have to give is distorted by wounds that have not yet healed. We dare to give love to each other knowing that we do not have our whole heart engaged. The scars on our hearts often hide pain that still lies below the surface and so we give love tinged with pain.

And we give this broken, scarred love to others who have similar wounds. We are all seeking to be loved with a purity that will fill us up and most of the time others do not have that capacity. Their wounds caution them to hold back, to not give it all, as they try to love without opening themselves to another heart-break. So, we are all long for love without limits from hearts that are limited by scars.

So, since we all are wounded and scarred, maybe we can learn to receive the love that is given from courageous souls who know what it means to be broken. And maybe knowing this can ignite our courage to dare to love another, knowing that we too will disappoint even as we have been disappointed.  And knowing this, maybe rather than judging the love of another, we can learn to cherish it , as broken as it is, as a life-giving gift.

IN MEMORIAM

The phone call came at dawn this morning. "Kay passed away early this morning." Her husband Dave shared the news of my sister's death. He had written a couple of days ago that they were awaiting the moment when she will be "taken by the elemental forces of the universe to rejoin her Creator and the countless others who preceded her and will welcome her company."

I sit quietly in my study this afternoon remembering my life with her and all of my remaining siblings. There had been five of us. Kay had been the matriarch of our clan since my mother died seven years ago.Kay was a woman who was committed to life-giving love. She welcomed all into her family. She went out of her way to walk with those whom society had pushed to the margins. She embodied her mother's commitment to compassion and her daddy's gentle spirit.

Kay was a strong and determined woman who knew that love, to exist in a world where there is deep suffering, had to be tough. She knew that love not only blessed your heart, but also broke your heart. She knew that at it's heart, love is continuing to show up and to pay attention to the other.

Kay's long battle with ovarian cancer is over. My niece said she heard an owl's call early this morning. In Native American folk lore, the owl represents wisdom and helpfulness. The call also represents the spirit of one who has died. Kay's family included Native Americans, Guatemalans and Vietnamese. Her compassionate wisdom will strengthen my heart and use my tears to nurture a loving spirit. May God rest her soul.