Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
If you're coming here because we mentioned this in the bulletin....
...welcome. Please stay a while and enjoy. If you'd like to be an author on this here blog, please let me know in the comments.
Thanks!
Gene
Thanks!
Gene
Thursday, October 11, 2007
If you have Faith as a Morning Glory seed....
I know that isn't the scripture.
We've lived in our little house for about 4 or 5 years now. Like so many people who are excited about home ownership in the beginning, I wanted to work in the yard and plant flowers. And so I did, though if you've been to my house lately, you'd never know that. The exterior of our home is pretty shabby looking. There's the desperately overdue painting that needs to be done. There's the out of control weeds in the yard, and the gulley that we are obliged by the city or LES or whomever to maintain. Shrubs that have never known the pruning hook. Patio furniture in disrepair and unfinished projects everywhere you look.
I am not keeping good faith with my house. I did in one of those first couple of springs though, make a pledge of faith by planting flowers. I love old-fashioned favorites. I planted bachelor buttons, which have rewarded me with perennial action for a few years now in spite of the 'annual' label on the seed packet. I planted cosmos in shades of white, pink and vibrant fushcia. Those too rewarded me the next summer with a few volunteers. The Four O'Clocks that I planted with reminisces of my grandparents summer yard also sent up a handful of repeaters the next July. There were Canterbury Bells that were supposed to be biennial, but which never even set out seedlings. I transplanted hearty perennial standbys from scattered locations (The middle of the lawn, really? Not where *I* would plant iris...) to the modest reclaimed 'flowerbeds' that lay along the south foundation of our house. I moved those iris, tulips, grape hyacinth, and crocus to a place where they would be safe from the lawnmower and plodding feet. I cleared leaves and weeds from the beds. I went to the very folksy neighborhood hardware store and bought a small inexpensive trellis. And I carefully soaked and scored the seeds of two packets of morning glories. One packet of the traditional blue-violet and white variety called 'Heavenly Blue'. The other was an heirloom variety known as 'Grandpa Ott'. I planted the seeds one evening as a spring mist soaked the earth, and myself. I did not see the bumper crop of morning glories that I'd hoped to have climbing that southern wall of my dining room. There were a couple that came up, twined about half-way up the trellis, put out a few blooms and apparently ran out of steam, or whatever it is that makes them go. They scorched and died in heat of summer, but not before I was captivated by the ruby-throated deep purple Grandpa Otts. I took one fast fading bloom to the office where my coworkers marveled at it's lovely color. And when it died I didn't think too much about it after that.
2007 has felt like one blurry streak... like watching a freight train move west next to your eastbound passenger car. More than ever before, my poor yard and house have taken a backseat to the other exciting things happening in my life. Babies, it turns out, are nearly all consuming. This summer, my brother proposed an exchange of labor for using our computer, high speed access, printer, paper, etc. for his schoolwork and I readily accepted. He did some very necessary work in our yard... mostly pulling bind-weed and cutting out all the elm trees that seem to be very attracted to my flowerbeds. He was pretty thorough. I don't know how he missed one twining vine that was twirling it's way through the underbelly of my flowerbed, dancing over iris leaves and eventually climbing up the stubborn remnants of one of the cut back elms. But then I didn't notice it either until about a week and a half ago. I was on my way to a mid-afternoon appointment when I saw the beautiful flashes of plum-y purple and raspberry veining. It stopped me in my tracks.
I paused with my young son in my arms to admire the lovely Grandpa Ott morning glories. Some two or three years after the seeds had been planted, and it's cousins long perished, here emerged the radiant evidence of some past labor, long dismissed as fruitless, or at least I believed it had borne all it would.
And so it is. We can never know when or what a long-ago act of faith will yield. When we become discouraged that 'things' are not happening as fast, or as big or as often as we would like, it is this kind of moment that God gives us, a tiny miracle in the grand scheme of the Universe. What kind of faith did that seed have? It was prepared for planting, but maybe it needed a little longer to work it's way through the hard outer shell of the seed. It was watered and tended, but needed time to grow. Maybe it was waiting for the right combination of moisture and temperature to venture out. It somehow escaped the weeding. Maybe it was afraid. In a time and place where it was as unexpected as rain in the desert, the morning glory acted on faith. Whether mine or it's own I will never know.
We continue to wonder about the future of the church. Imagine if you will, that my flower garden is like a church. There are perennial members... they just keep coming back season after season, Sunday after Sunday. Some like the bachelor buttons are seeds that started in our community, some like the irises and hyacinth were transplanted perennials that needed a safer place to flourish. Either way, they need very little tending to keep on growing, or even spreading! Others, like the cosmos, will come back a few times and then less and less until they don't come anymore at all. Some seeds we plant and plan for but never come to fruition. Others, like Grandpa Ott, make a false start, and then later surprise us by flowering long after we've given up hope. We must continue to act in faith. It truly is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Without that faith, we would be paralyzed with fear of whether what we were doing was the 'right' thing, or if it would give the 'right' result and so do nothing and die. Good gardners know to plant a variety and tend each according to it's needs. Or they discover by accident that it is a very handy strategy.
In the rush of our lives, we must take time to ponder the little miracles. Rejoice in surprise of faithful flowers. Pause and say "Look what God has done!" These are the tiny reassurances that God is working in our lives, and that our efforts are not in vain, whether in the garden or in the world.
We've lived in our little house for about 4 or 5 years now. Like so many people who are excited about home ownership in the beginning, I wanted to work in the yard and plant flowers. And so I did, though if you've been to my house lately, you'd never know that. The exterior of our home is pretty shabby looking. There's the desperately overdue painting that needs to be done. There's the out of control weeds in the yard, and the gulley that we are obliged by the city or LES or whomever to maintain. Shrubs that have never known the pruning hook. Patio furniture in disrepair and unfinished projects everywhere you look.
I am not keeping good faith with my house. I did in one of those first couple of springs though, make a pledge of faith by planting flowers. I love old-fashioned favorites. I planted bachelor buttons, which have rewarded me with perennial action for a few years now in spite of the 'annual' label on the seed packet. I planted cosmos in shades of white, pink and vibrant fushcia. Those too rewarded me the next summer with a few volunteers. The Four O'Clocks that I planted with reminisces of my grandparents summer yard also sent up a handful of repeaters the next July. There were Canterbury Bells that were supposed to be biennial, but which never even set out seedlings. I transplanted hearty perennial standbys from scattered locations (The middle of the lawn, really? Not where *I* would plant iris...) to the modest reclaimed 'flowerbeds' that lay along the south foundation of our house. I moved those iris, tulips, grape hyacinth, and crocus to a place where they would be safe from the lawnmower and plodding feet. I cleared leaves and weeds from the beds. I went to the very folksy neighborhood hardware store and bought a small inexpensive trellis. And I carefully soaked and scored the seeds of two packets of morning glories. One packet of the traditional blue-violet and white variety called 'Heavenly Blue'. The other was an heirloom variety known as 'Grandpa Ott'. I planted the seeds one evening as a spring mist soaked the earth, and myself. I did not see the bumper crop of morning glories that I'd hoped to have climbing that southern wall of my dining room. There were a couple that came up, twined about half-way up the trellis, put out a few blooms and apparently ran out of steam, or whatever it is that makes them go. They scorched and died in heat of summer, but not before I was captivated by the ruby-throated deep purple Grandpa Otts. I took one fast fading bloom to the office where my coworkers marveled at it's lovely color. And when it died I didn't think too much about it after that.
2007 has felt like one blurry streak... like watching a freight train move west next to your eastbound passenger car. More than ever before, my poor yard and house have taken a backseat to the other exciting things happening in my life. Babies, it turns out, are nearly all consuming. This summer, my brother proposed an exchange of labor for using our computer, high speed access, printer, paper, etc. for his schoolwork and I readily accepted. He did some very necessary work in our yard... mostly pulling bind-weed and cutting out all the elm trees that seem to be very attracted to my flowerbeds. He was pretty thorough. I don't know how he missed one twining vine that was twirling it's way through the underbelly of my flowerbed, dancing over iris leaves and eventually climbing up the stubborn remnants of one of the cut back elms. But then I didn't notice it either until about a week and a half ago. I was on my way to a mid-afternoon appointment when I saw the beautiful flashes of plum-y purple and raspberry veining. It stopped me in my tracks.
I paused with my young son in my arms to admire the lovely Grandpa Ott morning glories. Some two or three years after the seeds had been planted, and it's cousins long perished, here emerged the radiant evidence of some past labor, long dismissed as fruitless, or at least I believed it had borne all it would.And so it is. We can never know when or what a long-ago act of faith will yield. When we become discouraged that 'things' are not happening as fast, or as big or as often as we would like, it is this kind of moment that God gives us, a tiny miracle in the grand scheme of the Universe. What kind of faith did that seed have? It was prepared for planting, but maybe it needed a little longer to work it's way through the hard outer shell of the seed. It was watered and tended, but needed time to grow. Maybe it was waiting for the right combination of moisture and temperature to venture out. It somehow escaped the weeding. Maybe it was afraid. In a time and place where it was as unexpected as rain in the desert, the morning glory acted on faith. Whether mine or it's own I will never know.
We continue to wonder about the future of the church. Imagine if you will, that my flower garden is like a church. There are perennial members... they just keep coming back season after season, Sunday after Sunday. Some like the bachelor buttons are seeds that started in our community, some like the irises and hyacinth were transplanted perennials that needed a safer place to flourish. Either way, they need very little tending to keep on growing, or even spreading! Others, like the cosmos, will come back a few times and then less and less until they don't come anymore at all. Some seeds we plant and plan for but never come to fruition. Others, like Grandpa Ott, make a false start, and then later surprise us by flowering long after we've given up hope. We must continue to act in faith. It truly is the substance of things hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Without that faith, we would be paralyzed with fear of whether what we were doing was the 'right' thing, or if it would give the 'right' result and so do nothing and die. Good gardners know to plant a variety and tend each according to it's needs. Or they discover by accident that it is a very handy strategy.
In the rush of our lives, we must take time to ponder the little miracles. Rejoice in surprise of faithful flowers. Pause and say "Look what God has done!" These are the tiny reassurances that God is working in our lives, and that our efforts are not in vain, whether in the garden or in the world.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Evolve
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/09/25/news/edhavel.php
I mean really. I think everyone of us knows that the time is at hand for us to do something. I think an overwhelming majority of us are waiting to be told what that something is or might be. To insinuate that it's time to stop looking at the options and do something while still being forward looking enough to not further endanger the worlds climate is an insult to reason. Can you really make a decision on untested ways of climate control and think that it won't have long reaching effects? The energy and effort that is being put into developing low energy products and to reduce our overall consumption is astounding and should be applauded not criticized. It's those efforts that are going to provide us the precious time to test the long reaching affects of large scale climate controls. Being a member of the human race I fully hope we can undo what has been done. But arguing that it's important to keep people alive and thriving in a world that we have destroyed is kind of arrogant. Appropriate for a people that are capable of ruining the very thing that brings life to them. We should either be embracing all avenues for improvement or just toss them all out and enjoy the roller coaster ride that will be the expedited end of our race. Or will we evolve?
I mean really. I think everyone of us knows that the time is at hand for us to do something. I think an overwhelming majority of us are waiting to be told what that something is or might be. To insinuate that it's time to stop looking at the options and do something while still being forward looking enough to not further endanger the worlds climate is an insult to reason. Can you really make a decision on untested ways of climate control and think that it won't have long reaching effects? The energy and effort that is being put into developing low energy products and to reduce our overall consumption is astounding and should be applauded not criticized. It's those efforts that are going to provide us the precious time to test the long reaching affects of large scale climate controls. Being a member of the human race I fully hope we can undo what has been done. But arguing that it's important to keep people alive and thriving in a world that we have destroyed is kind of arrogant. Appropriate for a people that are capable of ruining the very thing that brings life to them. We should either be embracing all avenues for improvement or just toss them all out and enjoy the roller coaster ride that will be the expedited end of our race. Or will we evolve?
Friday, September 21, 2007
God files legal motions? Who knew?
I kind of like Ernie Chambers. I don't really know him, but most of the time I think that the stuff he does is pretty funny. I got a chuckle out of him suing God for making terroristic threats as a display of how easy it is in Nebraska to file what he calls a "frivolous" lawsuit. A couple of days later God counter sued. I love how people get upset with Ernie Chambers and then respond by proving his point for him.
Who knew that God has an attorney retained so he can sue his human creations at a moment's notice? I'll bet he has a consigliere like Tom in The Godfather or Alberto Gonzales in the Justice Department (note; I will never tire of making fun of Alberto Gonzales or Jon Bruning).
It sort of makes you wonder what kind of attorney Jesus would have been. While Jesus is the Lord, I doubt his closing arguments would have been very good. I can see the interviews with the jury members now, "We really couldn't understand his case all that much. He just kept telling these stories about bridegrooms and old widows and mustard seeds. We didn't find any reasonable doubt in there at all." He doesn't seem like a paperwork kind of guy either.
Back to the point--
Apparently there are two people that counter sued Ernie Chambers in the name of God. I almost wonder if some evangelical fundamentalist preacher will be crowing about filing a lawsuit against Ernie Chambers this coming Sunday with all of the members of his McChurch congregation hardy-har-har-ing it up about how the pastor is so clever. News flash, the person that filed this lawsuit is not clever. This person is dumb and is missing the point about the ability to file a frivolous lawsuit in Nebraska.
People that think at this level shouldn't be able to have a say in what's taught in a science class. People this thick and obtuse shouldn't be able to dictate foreign and domestic policy in the United States. They don't have the brainpower to understand that dealing with a foreign country requires a foreign policy slightly more thoughtful than "Yee Haw!" and a domestic policy that's focused on other things besides stopping the spread of "the gay" by not mentioning sex on an HHSS pamphlet.
Let's stop enabling.
Who knew that God has an attorney retained so he can sue his human creations at a moment's notice? I'll bet he has a consigliere like Tom in The Godfather or Alberto Gonzales in the Justice Department (note; I will never tire of making fun of Alberto Gonzales or Jon Bruning).
It sort of makes you wonder what kind of attorney Jesus would have been. While Jesus is the Lord, I doubt his closing arguments would have been very good. I can see the interviews with the jury members now, "We really couldn't understand his case all that much. He just kept telling these stories about bridegrooms and old widows and mustard seeds. We didn't find any reasonable doubt in there at all." He doesn't seem like a paperwork kind of guy either.
Back to the point--
Apparently there are two people that counter sued Ernie Chambers in the name of God. I almost wonder if some evangelical fundamentalist preacher will be crowing about filing a lawsuit against Ernie Chambers this coming Sunday with all of the members of his McChurch congregation hardy-har-har-ing it up about how the pastor is so clever. News flash, the person that filed this lawsuit is not clever. This person is dumb and is missing the point about the ability to file a frivolous lawsuit in Nebraska.
People that think at this level shouldn't be able to have a say in what's taught in a science class. People this thick and obtuse shouldn't be able to dictate foreign and domestic policy in the United States. They don't have the brainpower to understand that dealing with a foreign country requires a foreign policy slightly more thoughtful than "Yee Haw!" and a domestic policy that's focused on other things besides stopping the spread of "the gay" by not mentioning sex on an HHSS pamphlet.
Let's stop enabling.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
An Inspiration...
Edit: I needed to preface this with "an Inspiration" ... to finally contribute to this blog I'd been invited to. Without further ado, then.
A conversation with a friend who lives far away, but is in a relationship unlike any she's ever been in before. She is a person who was raised in a strict Christian home, but rebeled against it. Suffice it to say she has lived a VERY wild life. He is a person who was raised in a religiously ambivilant household, but who, after his own wild period, 'got saved' by the same denomination she was raised in, but no longer adheres to. Got it? These two folks are really at cross purposes (ha).
So, she calls me all the time for relationship advice, and my husband too. I guess because we are a couple who's spiritual paths are somewhat divergent. Or maybe because she doesn't have anyone else to call. Who knows? Yesterday we were having this conversation specific to some disagreements they've had about a whole variety of things, many of them small. They, in their relationship building, have been doing a lot of talking about the "what-ifs" in their future. It sort of hit me like a bolt from the blue, in the midst of offering some sort of comforting words about it... I stopped and changed direction. It occured to me that she and he were really worked up about a lot of tiny details, and a lot of very unlikely what-ifs. I wondered "Did our grandparents have these kinds of conversations?" I don't know if it's the sanitized screen through which we view our ancestors, but I think not. In this age we live in, so full of technology, consumerism, and fear, we (and I mean most everyone in my peer group) build relationships in very funny ways. We are writing Disaster Recovery Plans for our relationships... but we aren't working on key components. We want to know what happens if there's a tiny blip in our relationship data, and how to fix it, but we don't understand any of the hardware or the software. We don't even account for the human element anymore. We want a plan, something to guide us and fall back on if there's an error. We want to know what it will cost and how long it will take and what the steps are. We don't even worry about not having the skills or equipment to deal with it. We want the plan, we want the guarantee. But relationships aren't about guarantees. Life is not about guarantees. Humans are fallible (just like the technology we turn to every day, created by us in our feeble attempt at godlike control) and so while we hope and pray for the best every day, sometimes it doesn't happen. We're not wired like a network, or a rack full of servers. We're NOT logical. We stumble, we make mistakes, we second-guess, step back, start over. Life throws us curves when we don't expect them. Things change, jobs change, people die, babies are born, and time marches on. We write those Disaster Recovery Plans for 100 scenarios, and the 101st, one that we never considered, comes in and completely destroys our hard drive.
Our culture of fear and consumerism and technology has brought us to a terrible impass with the very nature of mortal existance. There is no money-back guarantee on life. It doesn't come with instructions for assembly, or an FAQ that's easily understood. And while I believe that God is as present in our lives as we allow God to be, and while I pray regularly in times of doubt, or trouble, and in times of joy and upliftedness, very, VERY rarely is it like calling tech support:
"Oh, just push that big OFF button on the left side."
"Thanks God, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that!"
"No problem, that's My job."
We just have to figure out, often by trial and error, what does and doesn't work. We have to look to our parents, grandparents, peers and experts for examples of what *might* work. (or in some cases, what definitely doesn't) There is no Disaster Recovery Plan for life. There isn't one for relationships either. Just focus on loving each other, on communicating with each other, on looking forward, on moving forward. I don't know what else to tell her. Until you have a server to store it on, stop focusing on the data.
I'd like to hope that one day, we'll all have the courage to face life, and build relationships by talking about our dreams, and our desires and our hopes... ...and stop talking about all our fears and wants and the minutiae of what might happen IF this one thing goes wrong. I think we all, on some level, want beauty. I want for the human heart to see the future like an impressionist painting... full of swirling color and fuzzy detail... it should be bright and alive and not completely rigid or 100% clear. It should NOT look like an architechtural drawing. I think there is beauty and hope in not knowing everything. Stop listening to sources that tell you otherwise.
A conversation with a friend who lives far away, but is in a relationship unlike any she's ever been in before. She is a person who was raised in a strict Christian home, but rebeled against it. Suffice it to say she has lived a VERY wild life. He is a person who was raised in a religiously ambivilant household, but who, after his own wild period, 'got saved' by the same denomination she was raised in, but no longer adheres to. Got it? These two folks are really at cross purposes (ha).
So, she calls me all the time for relationship advice, and my husband too. I guess because we are a couple who's spiritual paths are somewhat divergent. Or maybe because she doesn't have anyone else to call. Who knows? Yesterday we were having this conversation specific to some disagreements they've had about a whole variety of things, many of them small. They, in their relationship building, have been doing a lot of talking about the "what-ifs" in their future. It sort of hit me like a bolt from the blue, in the midst of offering some sort of comforting words about it... I stopped and changed direction. It occured to me that she and he were really worked up about a lot of tiny details, and a lot of very unlikely what-ifs. I wondered "Did our grandparents have these kinds of conversations?" I don't know if it's the sanitized screen through which we view our ancestors, but I think not. In this age we live in, so full of technology, consumerism, and fear, we (and I mean most everyone in my peer group) build relationships in very funny ways. We are writing Disaster Recovery Plans for our relationships... but we aren't working on key components. We want to know what happens if there's a tiny blip in our relationship data, and how to fix it, but we don't understand any of the hardware or the software. We don't even account for the human element anymore. We want a plan, something to guide us and fall back on if there's an error. We want to know what it will cost and how long it will take and what the steps are. We don't even worry about not having the skills or equipment to deal with it. We want the plan, we want the guarantee. But relationships aren't about guarantees. Life is not about guarantees. Humans are fallible (just like the technology we turn to every day, created by us in our feeble attempt at godlike control) and so while we hope and pray for the best every day, sometimes it doesn't happen. We're not wired like a network, or a rack full of servers. We're NOT logical. We stumble, we make mistakes, we second-guess, step back, start over. Life throws us curves when we don't expect them. Things change, jobs change, people die, babies are born, and time marches on. We write those Disaster Recovery Plans for 100 scenarios, and the 101st, one that we never considered, comes in and completely destroys our hard drive.
Our culture of fear and consumerism and technology has brought us to a terrible impass with the very nature of mortal existance. There is no money-back guarantee on life. It doesn't come with instructions for assembly, or an FAQ that's easily understood. And while I believe that God is as present in our lives as we allow God to be, and while I pray regularly in times of doubt, or trouble, and in times of joy and upliftedness, very, VERY rarely is it like calling tech support:
"Oh, just push that big OFF button on the left side."
"Thanks God, I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that!"
"No problem, that's My job."
We just have to figure out, often by trial and error, what does and doesn't work. We have to look to our parents, grandparents, peers and experts for examples of what *might* work. (or in some cases, what definitely doesn't) There is no Disaster Recovery Plan for life. There isn't one for relationships either. Just focus on loving each other, on communicating with each other, on looking forward, on moving forward. I don't know what else to tell her. Until you have a server to store it on, stop focusing on the data.
I'd like to hope that one day, we'll all have the courage to face life, and build relationships by talking about our dreams, and our desires and our hopes... ...and stop talking about all our fears and wants and the minutiae of what might happen IF this one thing goes wrong. I think we all, on some level, want beauty. I want for the human heart to see the future like an impressionist painting... full of swirling color and fuzzy detail... it should be bright and alive and not completely rigid or 100% clear. It should NOT look like an architechtural drawing. I think there is beauty and hope in not knowing everything. Stop listening to sources that tell you otherwise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
