love

Girlfriend In A Coma

Today’s site prompt (the hosting website asks a question every day, to spur thought and encourage me to post every day) is “What’s one thing you would change about yourself?” On one hand, I don’t like this question. It sounds like a wish in a well, like ‘I’d like to be taller,’ or to be able to fly, or whatever. But on the other, maybe this is a doorway into something deeper. In a mass email I received last week, a man named Mark asked if we were becoming the sorts of people we want to become, and that sounds like a variation of the variation of the same question I ask most Sundays. If our answer is a catalyst towards entering a new phase of growth, maybe it’s a good one. Instead of wishing to be a superhero, what if the one thing is to love our neighbor in ways they understand, or to show up to our spouses more often, and asking is the first step in actually doing it, that’s a different story, isn’t it?

This reminds me of a book I just read, Girlfriend In A Coma, by Douglas Coupland. It’s a good book that I read in college, because I have always liked Coupland (he wrote the impossibly important novel Generation X, where the term was first coined), AND because it’s titled after a fantastic Smiths song. A good book, but not life-changing, then. Now might be a different story.

The end has all of the main characters standing in an apocalyptic wasteland, they are the only survivors, and they have a decision. They can stay where they are (which isn’t at all as terrible as it sounds, for one HUGE reason that I won’t spoil) or go back to before the “apocalypse.” They choose to go back, deciding to use this new time, these new lives, to effect change.

Listen to this: “You guys just wait and see. We’ll stand taller than these mountains. We’ll bare open our hearts for the world to grab. We’ll see lights where before there was dimness. We’ll testify together to what we have seen and felt…Our hearts will shine brightly.”

“How can I give them a spark? He wonders. How can I hold their hands and pull them all through flames and rock walls and icebergs?…Every cell in our body explodes with the truth…We’ll be begging passersby to see the need to question and question and never stop questioning until the world stops spinning. We’ll be adults who smash the tired, exhausted system. We’ll crawl and chew and dig our way into a radical new world.“

Right??? I’m typing with tears in my eyes for 2 reasons. First, the thing they had to give up was so humongous, the cost was so high, it absolutely crushes my heart. But the second is the hope of their choice and their opportunity. Now, obviously, it sounds like they’re the ones who will “fix it,” who will “stand taller than mountains,” whose strength and significance is great enough to rewrite the future. I don’t believe that. Jesus fixes (fixed) it, Jesus stands taller than all mountains stacked up, His strength & significance is more than enough to rewrite the past, present, and future, forever and ever, amen.

However, I think this grandiosity isn’t always our problem. More often, we have far too little regard for our own participation. We simply don’t think we have a part to play in changing anything. We believe we’re a pebble thrown into the ocean.

This book (and all of the art that really moves us) presents a different narrative – that we can “testify to what we’ve seen and felt,” that we can let our hearts “shine brightly,” that we can give a spark, we can hold hands and pull, we can smash this tired, exhausted, hopeless system through our faith and hope in Our Savior, and in so doing, we can have a “radical new world.” What we do matters, and it matters a lot.

It doesn’t matter if the prompt is a good one. What’s important is that we keep asking, keep pushing, keep holding, keep crawling, keep shining, keep testifying. Every cell in our body explodes with the Truth, we just have to let that explosion out.

The Grateful

Gratitude Journals. Gratitude Breaths. Thank You Notes. Those are the first 3 in an email list of gratitude practices, as it is Thanksgiving this week. I think we’ve probably heard all of them before, We’ve been told to make lists and to slow down and breathe many times. Maybe we haven’t had thank-you notes suggested (when was the last time we passed a hand-written note at all??), but it certainly does make sense to acknowledge kindness and beauty.

The 4th requires an explanation. Flip The Script means, in difficult situations, we ask,”what is one thing I can be thankful for in this situation?” It’s a simple re-frame that can exchange one “O” word – obstacle – for another – opportunity. And it reminds me of a different email I received yesterday, that stated “the opposite of misery isn’t happiness, it’s gratitude,” and asked us to “Be grateful for your struggles, because within them is the opportunity for growth and meaning.”

In the movie I watched last night, after saving the multiverse (don’t ask), one character asked if the time variance agency (really, don’t ask) could change another character’s regrettable, awful past for rescuing the world. He was told that past, that deeply painful past, is what created the hero that could save us all. There was nothing to change.

By the way, it was yet another instance of a story where the hero sacrifices him- or her-self so everyone else can live. Sounds familiar. I point this pattern out to my boys every time we see it, and explain that it’s in so many stories because it’s The Best Story. Our Creator, Savior, and redemption are wired into our souls. We all know it, and so does Hollywood. (I was going to add “whether they admit it or not,” but that’s silly. They admit it with every re-telling.)

Anyway. I’m just spending the time this week reflecting on gratitude, in general, as a concept, and in my own life, specifically. We could make lists or flip all the scripts, but each of them, any/all of them, are designed to open our eyes and turn our heads. Paul writes that we are to be thankful in everything, and that’s unbelievably difficult sometimes.

But so was my first deadlift. A deadlift works nearly all of the muscles in your body. It’s hard and I struggled to do very light weights. However, I wanted to do it, I wanted to be a man who deadlifts. And guess what happened? I kept watching YouTube videos on correct, safe form. I asked questions and studied others in the gym. I deadlifted often, even when I didn’t want to, didn’t feeeeeel like it. The light weights increased as it became an integral part of my workout routine. It’s still hard, but it’s awesome. I am a man who deadlifts.

I think gratitude is probably the same idea. Being a grateful person requires all of us, asking muscles we don’t always use to grow and strengthen. And we pay attention, hand writing notes (maybe we should bring handwriting back) or reading mass emails or whatever, and keep gratituding. Even when we really don’t feeeeeel like it.

We have been given our very lives, each breath, each moment. We’ve been given each other, the beauty of the changing leaves and the Church. We’ve been given touch, smiles, kisses, tapioca pudding, and breakfast sausage. We have been made to deadlift, we’ve just seen the wind & forgotten. Way deep down, in all of the most authentic parts of us, under all of the rock in which we hide, we are The Grateful. So, how about, starting with this week, we begin chipping away at the rock and reveal this stunning true nature of ours.

Christmas Presents

Last week, I went to a Morrissey concert in Atlantic City. Morrissey is a pop singer, and he’s been my favorite artist since I was around 13 years old and heard a song called “Ask.” (I’ll talk about the actual show on my lovewithacapitall.com blog, if you’re dying to know more.)

I went with my sister to the show, and her husband (who, inexplicably, HATES Morrissey) and the Angel also came for the evening in the city. We stayed in a fancy hotel with a perfect view of the ocean, ate too much of a great meal and way too much, several times, from an interesting cafe.

Then, home for last minute preparations for Operation Christmas Child shoebox Sunday. I made the soup and the cake, she made the artichoke dip, and we eased our tired bodies (we’re older now and need more rest than we used to) into bed.

Sunday morning, the Bridge packed the boxes we delivered to the drop point a day later, and hopefully we all ate too much of the community meal. Together.

This was a beautiful weekend, full of meaning and significance. But Morrissey was the least of it. That’s strange to write, because for so many years, I would’ve said he was the most important figure in my life, singing the songs that detailed my (our) emotions and gave me 1 person who, I believed, understood. I would’ve told you he saved my life on more than one occasion, and that might be true.

But during the show, I looked at my sister and hugged her and told her how much I loved her, how I didn’t want to be with anyone else but her. The songs were great, but this relationship was so much better, deeper, with mountains of history between us. Morrissey didn’t know me, our history was a one-way street. Those songs just gave us another extraordinary reason to share the time.

The 4 of us had dinner and breakfast. The Angel and I watched the sun set and rise in our hotel window and on the beach. He’s the best brother in the world, and she’s just the best person. I’d rather kiss her once and share one meal of noodles than watch all of the Morrissey shows ever.

So, yes, of course, Morrissey doesn’t know me, but neither do the boys and girls half a world away who will open our presents, and packing their presents with love and prayer with my family opened me in wonderful ways for which I can never prepare.

This is more of a bullet point narrative post than a long thoughtful essay, but the point is that while Morrissey may have saved my life, it was just to bring me to the place where my life could actually be saved and redeemed. When I fell in love with Jesus (10+ years after I fell in love with Morrissey), it began a lifetime of restructuring my values.

The first time I saw Morrissey, I left my friend at the door to run to the stage to be in the front row. That’s where my values were then, I now forgive the boy that did it, but it isn’t me now. Morrissey connects us. Without the connection, without the relationships, they’re simply chords and lyrics (which are still miles better than most things).

Now, I prefer dinner with my sister and her husband. I prefer holding the Angel’s hand and watching the waves roll in. I prefer shoeboxes and pumpkin pie. I even prefer making a cake for others.

And all of those preferences ooze down into every area of my life from the One with the position at the top. I am so grateful that Morrissey moves me, grateful that he means so much to me, because it paints a picture (however inadequate) and packs a shoebox full of the love, belonging and fulfillment of the One who opens my eyes and heart and changes everything.

Something Everyone Should Know

The website that supports our Bridge website has a writing prompt. They want me to post everyday, I don’t know exactly why. I mean, I’m sure it has to do with advertising revenue, but how much are they getting from the Bridge Faith Community and it’s visitors? Maybe it’s significant. Who knows how these things are structured? Anyway, the site prompt for today is, “What’s something you believe everyone should know?” and that will go very nicely with what I opened this computer to write about today.

My youngest son recently committed to a college. It was a process that felt long, with lots of twists and turns (but as I have no reference point, maybe it was short and easy – this is a relative thing). One college, Drew University, took an early lead and mostly had him locked up. They had programs – 1 in particular – that he loved with wchich no other school could really compete. So, they had him. We bought some t-shirts with the Drew ranger on it, and assumed he’d go to northern New Jersey in the fall.

But in one month, their incompetence or indifference gave him pause enough to look closer at other schools and other, overlooked characteristics of Drew (none of which were terribly good). As they fell, Lycoming College grew. Then, one Friday and Saturday, we scheduled visits with admissions, 2nd tours, and basketball practice with each institution.

Lycoming was Friday, and as we pulled into the parking lot, the basketball coach was standing outside. He greeted us warmly and was our guide for the day. We ate together, attended meetings with the business professor and admissions counselor together, toured together, and attended practice together. Throughout the day, current basketball players met him with an obvious excitement, as did the administrative assistants, professors, and counselors not assigned to him. Everyone knew his name and pronounced it correctly. This is no small thing, the doctor’s office where he has been seen since birth still can’t work that out. Admissions gave him a folder with his acceptance and scholarship information, everyone stopped to congratulate him. The basketball presentation had his name & picture and where he’d fit in the program. We spent the whole day and, when we left, later than expected, the coach asked us to text him when we got home.

The next day, the Angel and my boy drove to Drew, for what we expected would be the same sort of treatment. I stayed home for a wedding and waited by the phone to hear the second half of the competition. Their admissions appointment began at 8:45am, and they called me before 9. He was given the same kind of folder and sent on his way. No tour, no personal meetings, no warmth. Just instructions to walk around and…whatever, until basketball practice began in the afternoon. Instead, they got in the car and came home, decision made.

If a man or woman treats you poorly before you are married, do you think it’ll get better afterwards???

Now, let’s return to the site prompt. The entire Lycoming College experience was designed to make my son feel valued. To them, he was worth their time, energy, and money. In the huddle as basketball practice began, the coach reminded them team that he was there, and to show him what they are about, their identity. Everyone in the entire school must have had the same meeting in the morning.

He called Drew to ask for a class list in his major and they did it, but gave him the information in the wrong major. It’s the little things that aren’t little at all.

What I believe everyone should know is that they are valued, accepted, and worth the time, energy, and money. I want them (us) to know they’re here for a reason, created in, by, and for love. I want us to know we’re not a mistake and certainly not the trash. Instead, we are wonderfully made and children of the Creator of the Universe.

Drew treated my son as if he were just another name, another number. As if he’d be lucky to be mistreated by them. They’re wrong. How many times have we settled for this sort of disrespect? How many times have we believed the lies – in words or actions – that we are expendable, ordinary (at best) and worthless (at worst)?

Everybody should feel how Lycoming made my son feel, should know they are wanted. And, I’m more and more convinced that it’s our business, wherever we are, to make sure they do.

Go First

Last Sunday, we recklessly dove into the deepest of water, discussing who goes first, in our closest relationships. (Maybe more than only our closest relationships.) Who loves first? Who honors first? Who respects first? Who submits first? Sure, it’s uncomfortable, because we really like when they do, but when we both wait for the other, then what?

The Bible has these passages on “household codes,” where we have some clear direction on how to deal with each other, creating healthy soil for beautiful marriages (etc) to grow. Quickly and easily, the answer is “I do,” no matter who is the “I” and who is the “you.” I imagine everyone there in Sunday is feeling a certain type of way, because it took me almost an hour to get to that last short sentence. But maybe the certain type of way is elated, maybe they hang on every word and wish it wasn’t over so soon, no matter how long it is?

Anyway. I wanted to write about this today. It is Wednesday, so there have surely been loads of opportunities to practice. Probably, Sunday afternoon gave plenty of chances to swallow our pride and step out and lean in.

Maybe you were thinking about that friend who never calls…and called her? Or maybe he didn’t do those dishes…so you did? Maybe you had a chance to withhold your affection to teach that husband of yours an important lesson… but didn’t? Maybe she was supposed to say how sorry she is and how right you are, but hasn’t yet, and now you’re faced with a sore backside and a choice… which you used to lay the offense down and move forward?

Or maybe, like my son, you took the opportunity to excuse your own behavior by quoting 1 Corinthians 13, “love keeps no record of wrongs.” Hahaha. The Bible comes in handy in many different ways, doesn’t it? If we know enough verses and are willing to disregard context, we can justify almost anything.

So, how did it go? Were you able to give some solid words of affirmation even though she hasn’t gotten you even the smallest, most insignificant, gift?? (I know, I know, no gift is small and insignificant for someone who speaks the love language of gifts, but you get the point.) Were you able to kiss her even though she hasn’t played a game or watched a movie with you in months??

This post could be called Even Though. We choose to _____ even though ______ . I’ll make dinner tonight for a crew who may not like it, may not appreciate what I’ve done, may not say thanks or clean up afterwards. Probably you will, too. Maybe you won’t want to, maybe you’ll seriously think about leaving dinner unmade, ingredients still in the fridge and cupboard. And we’ll all have a choice. Will we do it even though? Will we go first? Or will we dig in until someone recognizes my obvious high ground?

We were away on a 3 day vacation, and we all had many chances to plant ourselves in our high ground. But I think, the truth is, we all separately realized just how rare and fleeting these moments together are, and decided that missing them was just too high of a cost. Hopefully the next step for me is to realize just how rare and fleeting all moments are, and not miss any more in service of my own fragile ego, and plant something fresh and new in the ‘high’ ground.

Decisions, Decisions

I think, if I had to pick one sentence from yesterday’s message that was the hardest to say, and to hear, it would be: “If he chooses to honor her, if she chooses to honor him…” Whatever comes next, those words are so charged with meaning and possibility. What if he did? What if she did? Then what?

I also wanted to share what I heard in a video on Instagram. An interviewer asked a woman if she was married, and she said yes. At this point, it was very light, she was smiley and easy-going. He then asked her if HE was happy. “Is he happy?” This was surprising, to her, and to me. She restated the question, making sure that she heard correctly, then said, “I thought you’d ask me if I was happy.” He said he wanted to care for him, too. I know, right!??! The mood between them changed, as if he attacked her. She became silent and sullen, finally saying, “**** you,” which I guess, answered the question without answering the question.

I wonder what we’d say if we were asked the same question about our relationships. More than just our marriages, would our friends say they’re happy and valued in our company? Do they feel important, heard, cared for, by us? How about our children? Just to be sure, I told the Angel, if anyone ever asked her, that yes, I was awfully happy. She told me she was, too.

If you had the courage to ask your husband/wife if he/she was happy, what would he/she say? Do you know the answer? Would they tell you the truth? How would you react if the answer was no? Would you be offended, would you pout and make them feel like they shouldn’t have answered so honestly? Would you respond the way that woman in the video did?

Of course, I want all of us to say “Yes,” but I am fully aware that many of us would not. In that case, would the answer change IF he chooses to honor her, IF she chooses to honor him?

One last observation. What is the only requirement to changing the environment between us? Or our environment anywhere? Our choice to act. If we knew we could change the space in our homes with one choice, would we make that decision? Would we stop keeping score, cutting with our words, detaching, punishing each other with our tones or disconnection? Would we speak positively, encourage, and support each other?

And, apparently, what I meant was 2 more observations. The 2nd is…what would our lives look like IF we chose to honor ourselves? Maybe that’s an even bigger ask. We often speak to us in a more destructive manner than we would ever speak to another. We commit such acts of violence towards ourselves, whether it is staying in abusive relationships, acting as if we are absolutely worthless in countless ways.

…And all (I say “all” fully knowing it’s a Herculean “all”) it takes is a choice. And then another, and another, and another. Until everything is different, a whole new creation.

What Will We Choose?

Sunday’s message was about one thing, but it certainly felt like a far bigger bridge to cross. We were talking about the words submission & love in the context of Ephesians 5, in a conversation about our marriage relationships, but so much of it felt like a message on the power of the tongue. The way we speak to each other has the power to build, and it also has the power to absolutely demolish.

Of course, this isn’t just the words we use. There’s a lot more to communication than what would be written on a transcript. There is our posture, non-verbal cues, expressions, body language. When I give these Sunday morning talks, it’s pretty easy to know what everybody thinks based simply on how they are sitting in the pews. A person leaning back with folded arms is having a very different experience than one who leans forward with wide, open eyes. And then, there are the ones who nod off – that’s something else altogether, with little to do with the content. Some scrunch up their faces, some smile, some physically turn their bodies away from me, some write (and it’s obvious if what they’re writing is about the message or funny notes to the one sitting next to them) and others are just patiently waiting for me to finish (and others not so patiently).

This hasn’t even touched on the heart postures we hold toward each other to affect the space between us. Brene Brown wrote a brilliant reference book, labeling & defining our emotions so we have the words to communicate what we are feeling effectively. Usually, we use 3 descriptions: happy, sad, mad. That’s it. But that isn’t nearly enough to adequately convey our current mental/emotional states.

She has a chapter called “Places we go when we feel wronged,” and lists “anger, contempt, disgust, dehumanization, hate, self-righteousness.” We know these are not the same feelings, but we’d often just say ‘mad.’ Contempt is not anger. Brown cites researchers that call contempt “perhaps the most corrosive force in a marriage,” and a “strong predictor of divorce.” My guess is that we didn’t need researchers to tell us that. We have seen the look of contempt, and when we see it in a relationship across the table, we know very well how far past the edge it has gotten and now can only helplessly wait for the official end.

Paul uses submission, respect, honor, and a million others in his letters, but they’re all really just love. These words are all choices. We choose to submit, respect…or to carry the wrecking ball of contempt. Like so much of the Bible, we are left with a BIG decision: What will we choose? Will we choose to heal or to cut further? Will we choose to set down the record of wrongs or put them under our pillows in bed? We have a lot more agency in this than we believe, we do have the power to write new chapters and create new worlds (we are made in the image of our God, and have His Spirit living in us, after all), if only we have the imagination to dream this new story.

Leadership

The website that we use to create & post content on the Bridge (bridgefaithcommunity.com) and the Love With A Capital L (lovewithacapitall.com) websites is called Jetpack. It’s easy and free, 2 characteristics that make it very friendly for me. Jetpack wants it’s users to post often and gives lots of tools to make that happen. One of them is a prompt (a question or an idea), and today’s is: Do you see yourself as a leader?

This is interesting, because we all can have such widely contrasting views on this question. The nature of my position at the Bridge makes it obvious for me, but how do you answer the prompt? I’ve heard the phrase, “I’m no leader,” so many times, I’d start to believe it, if it wasn’t so wrong.

I also hear “I’m not a creative person.” Where do you think these lies began? When did we first hear them? Were they something we were told? And why? Why would someone lead us to believe such false notions about ourselves?

Much of our journey of faith, following Jesus, is un-learning the nonsense we’ve been taught.

Not a creative person? If we are awake and aware, if we look around, we see the fruit of a wildly creative God. The world is exploding with color and texture and beauty and function. We are made in the image of that God. It is as if we are saying, “We are all made in His image…except for me.” It’s strange we would accept this as truth isn’t it?

As far as leadership, last week we discussed our relationships in the home and asked some very difficult questions: Are we keeping score, making long records of wrongs? Are we patient? AND would our children be the first to call us patient? Would our spouses be defending our kindness? Would they defend the words we use, or our tones? Are we proud? Would our wives or children say we need it our way? Do they think we need to control how we make a pb&j sandwich? 

If these questions are so valuable (and so hard to answer honestly), that implies that people are watching. Our children are learning from our example. Our spouses are discovering who we are, how we move, what’s important to us. All of this points to the opportunity to impact the world around us, an opportunity that is only fully realized when we acknowledge the truth of our responsibility.

At work, in the grocery stores, behind the wheel, at the gym, we are always on display. How do we speak to each other? What can the cashier at the Walmart learn about the Gospel from our marriages? From our interactions with our teenage sons & daughters? If love is patient, would someone feel loved after interacting with us? Would they feel inspired our gratitude or deflated by our sour, complaining hearts?

This is the definition of leadership, and probably we’ve closed our eyes to avoid it. Those days are over, they have to be. There’s a saying that goes, “Teach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” We’re all teachers, illustrators, leaders, everybody is watching. I don’t always like the prompts, they often amplify a disappointingly stark difference in perspectives between the cultural and the spiritual. What we do matters to someone, so that makes it matter to everyone. Once we see this, our vision clears to possibility. And this is how it all starts…

2 Aching Muscles

On Friday, I pulled a muscle in my back. This, I suppose, isn’t the most surprising thing in the world. It happens. What’s embarrassing about it is that I did it while throwing frisbee. Or rather, disc golf. That sounds much cooler than “frisbee.” We’ve been playing quite a bit lately, and it was a pretty good time, until I felt like I got stabbed in my back and now it hurts to breathe too deeply or dead lift or get up or move quickly or walk around like a normal person. Sigh. So there’s that. I don’t know when I got this old. I used to be able to throw frisbees with no consequence. Sheesh, its just a frisbee.

If I take some ibuprofen, it’s not too bad. I bet nobody knew on Sunday morning or yesterday visiting family. Maybe they did, you know I can be very dramatic in my self-pity.

Today it’s better – I haven’t taken anything for pain yet today – but maybe that’s because there is another thing that is affecting an entirely different muscle in my aging body.

My youngest son just left for the first day of his senior year of high school. This has been only the first leg of the “lasts.” The last high school summer league in basketball. The last summer vacation of high school. The last first day.

There’s a meme (the wisdom literature of our time, our proverbs) that says something like “one day you’ll carry your child to bed and it’ll be the last time, and you won’t know it at the time.” And it can be anything. These 2 boys used to sleep on my chest. We walked them to school, drove them to practices, watched band concerts. I used to put them on my shoulders, or better yet, in a backpack for walks, like Yoda. If I sat them on my shoulders now, there would be many more than one muscle pulled. (My older boy is bigger than me in every way, maybe I should get on his shoulders to see now.)

As we all get older, we get the gift of knowing it’s the last. I knew the last time I’d coach each of them. I knew when I handed the championship trophy to this now-high school-senior and hugged him, that it would be the last time I would ever do that. That’s why I cried in front of everyone. We know today is his last first day of high school. We know the next first day of school, he won’t be living in this house. I cry a lot in front of everyone. (Today, though, with this pulled muscle in my back, it hurts A LOT to cry, more than usual.)

I talk a lot about a 2 hands theology. We are asked to hold the sadness – in this case, the sadness of the loss of my little boy – AND the celebration and joy – in this case, he’s a cooler, better person than I could have ever dreamed he’d be. Both of these boys are, and that is more wonderful than I can tell you. Except they’re not boys anymore, they’re men, and that hurts worse than I can tell you. My tears are a holy mixture of pain and joy.

That mixture has a name and is, simply, gratitude. More than anything that I can’t tell you is how thankful I am. My sister & I were talking, awestruck at these lives with which we have been blessed. This is certainly not to say they have been easy or without struggle or without times we doubted and there were times we might not have felt so grateful. But the thing about a 2 hands theology is that we have always been honest about those times, and the truth is, that’s probably why we’re so thankful today. We have been there for all of it.

I remember tearing their artwork from the walls of our old house as it went underwater, but I couldn’t get it all. And I prize what I took and mourn the loss of what I left behind. My aim has always been to live a fully present life, showing up to the pleasure, the wins, and the suffering, the losses. There have been so many of both, and I wouldn’t trade any of them.

So yes, I am celebrating with an ecstatic heart at this life I’ve been given and what I get to see and experience…and there is no amount of ibuprofen that can ease the hurt of what I get to see and experience. But the best thing is that there is no world where I’d want to.

Gifts

I usually like to write and post on a Monday or, at the latest, Tuesday. Today is Thursday. This week has been full. My heart is full, my head and my schedule are somewhat less full, but still enough to add a certain extra weight to the everyday.

First, the “everyday” reminds me of the AI quote from Sunday about the profane. Profane is defined as “Things that are not sacred, such as ordinary daily routines of life. Profane elements are secular, mundane, and practical, and are not considered to hold any spiritual significance.” I think that is a poor definition, because it implies that there are areas of life that don’t hold spiritual significance. It seems to me that part of our problem is that we believe that these areas exist, and therefore, and treat them as if they are meaningless. They lie outside of any greater consequence, and check out. We mindlessly step in the same footprints as yesterday and tomorrow and next Friday and last January.

So I believe that with all of my heart: there is no separation, and everything is spiritual, as long as we hold it with care and love.

Then, the homework was to open our eyes to the beauty of this life, to see all of this as a gift, the blessings, and look for spaces to be grateful. Notice these wonderful lives of ours.

And sometimes, I am invited to discover if these beliefs I say I hold are the ones I actually hold. Invited to do the homework myself. Asked the very difficult question of priority – when belief and faith come into conflict with convenience or my idea of what is supposed to be, then which side wins? Not only in my head or on paper, but in flesh and blood?

We all have this same invitation a ka-jillion times a day.

I make a weekly to-do list that I cross off (it is very satisfying to cross them off) as I complete each item. 2 of the items are “Bridge Post,” and “Love Post.” I write these posts on Monday or Tuesday. But Monday and Tuesday, I had homework and belief to practice. I don’t always get these pop quizzes right, often times I’ll serve my to-do list and treat other opportunities as things to get through to return to my list.

Thankfully, this week, I was (mostly) fully present to this gift I have been given, and I’m only writing this on a Thursday. Small steps make good lives, and sometimes they make lives so much better and deeper than you could have ever possibly imagined.