Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts

Sunday, June 28, 2015

I Can't Adult! Sermon 6/28/15


Given at Emerson Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston on June 28, 2015

Working from a place of playfulness, we had sermon bingo cards with fabulous prizes, choose your own adventure hymns, a time for all ages to share their childhood lovies, and our readings included Hyperbole and a Half's This Is Why I'll Never Be an Adult and Shel Silverstein's Listen to the Mustn'ts.


The aisle signs in grocery stores can be helpful--and existential. I saw one that said Adult Cereal.
I wondered --Is this cereal X-, or just R-rated? What shape are those puffs? Maybe it just has adult themes like… cannibalism or estate planning.

And yes, Kids Cereal was also an option. Careful investigation revealed that Kids Cereal means sugar and prizes and fun shapes and colors. Adult Cereal means… fiber.

Growing up is supposed to be Good For You. Make the sensible multigrain choice and don’t let it bother you that it’s beige and boring and an awful lot to chew.

Answer your email. Go to the bank and the grocery store. Clean all the things. Work. Pay the bills. Run the errands.
And do it all again tomorrow.

Above all, be mature. Mature is black slacks, polished shoes, matching socks. Mature is always on task, and serious all the time.

Who wants to sign up for all of that?? Truly, if it’s about drudgery and misery and never-ending responsibility, I Can’t Adult.

I am a proud member of Generation X. Born from the early 60s to the early 80s, we are stereotyped as disaffected slackers with a propensity toward flannel. Our generation came of age between wars and our parents were more likely to be dual income or even divorced. We were called the latch-key kids.

At this point, the youngest GenXers are in their thirties, and my oldest compatriots have hit their fifties. We’re old enough that our music shows up on Classic Rock stations. Heck, I am getting to the point where I’m looking forward to IHOP Senior Specials. And yet…

I used to think that I would wake up one morning and adulthood would make sense. Somehow I would have downloaded some sort of Competence program and instantly, I would be able to DEAL WITH IT.

In the meantime, a lot of us feel like we are faking it at being grown-ups. That at any second someone will discover us for the quivering frauds we are.


And here’s the secret—this isn’t just my generation. Many people older than I am have admitted to these same feelings…maybe not as loudly, and with a little less flannel.






Paul, in a letter to the Corinthians, says,
 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
Every time I read Paul’s letters, I find myself arguing with him. In this case, why is childish such a bad thing?

Let’s start with the childish things we shared at the beginning of the service—our comfort objects. The stuffed animals and favorite pillows and blankets—these things serve a real purpose when life is hard. When you are terrified by illness and chaos, mourning losses both personal and global, you need some comfort. Something soft is a sweet start.Our culture tells us to deny ourselves comfort—that’s ridiculous. The Inherent Worth of Oneself gets lost in the to-do lists, the laundry, the needs of the baby the job the bills the struggle.

Yes, we must be careful that our comfort does not abuse another or ourselves, but it is also abusive to stick to stoicism, and to a rugged individualism that says you must handle it all yourself.

What if what we set aside was the Mythology of Grown-up and instead embrace some of these childish things?

As we reflect, know that I’m do not mean Misplaced Nostalgia—we’re not going back to an ‘easier time’—life is always challenging at all ages and stages, and childhood is not always happy. But what do we abandon when we leave childhood? What is dismissed as unimportant that might actually be a strength?

Edwin Friedman, a rabbi and therapist, was a real expert on how people tick and the various illusions that many of us believe to be true. One of these myths is that seriousness is deeper than playfulness.

Being playful is important. It is creative and freeing and welcoming. And as Friedman puts it, “playfulness can get you out of a rut more successfully than seriousness.”

So we have this Sunday service with bingo cards. A webcomic as a reading. Heck- there’s a word scramble in your order of service, and coloring pages to take home.

Playfulness opens us to JOY. How often do we let ourselves be really and truly happy, even if in tiny doses. There should be no waiting for someday when it comes to joy. Celebrate whatever you can. Children celebrate their birthday, their half-birthday, new shoes, pancakes, puddles, caterpillars.


And joy often accompanies Wonder.

<excerpt from Clark Dewey Wells's You Be Glad At That Star>

Be curious.
Forever learning.

As Unitarian Universalists, we hold that revelation is ongoing—new truths are always being revealed. When we throw on blinders, when we declare ourselves to be done learning, we hold in our very humanity.

Ours is a faith of Lifespan Learning-book clubs and adult religious education, and so many of us are reading or taking classes or discovering a new hobby. Most of our Sunday school teachers tell me that they sign up not because they feel obligated, but because they always learn something from the experience—from the curriculum and from the children and youth in the room.

Life will always have uncertainty. A spirit of curiosity keeps us vibrant and gives us hope.

And boy howdy, but we need hope.

Our five-year old selves knew that we could sing and dance and paint and be astronaut cowboy doctor unicorn-riding rock stars.

Somehow, over the years, many of us give these things up—pared away by scarcity of time but also by criticism and self-doubt.

We are continuously chastised for being Too Much and Not Enough

Have you ever been told that you are too loud?
Not talented enough?
Too angry?
Not ambitious enough?
Too weird?
Not happy enough?
Too pushy?
Not attractive enough?
What else?

And the lower your prestige and privilege, the more you get these messages. Stay in your place. Keep your head down. Do not cause trouble.

Dear ones—you are not too much. You are you and that is good and that is more than enough. And yes, I will write you that as a note if you need it, for your mirror or your wallet or your Facebook wall.

In the 1976 film Network, newscaster Howard Beale delivers that iconic line-
“I’m as MAD AS HELL and I’m not going to take it anymore!”

That, my friends, is the default setting of a young child. As little ones, we throw tantrums when we are angry, we wail when we are sad or hurt or afraid.

Over the years, our culture socializes us to tone it down. Be polite. Keep the peace. Girls, especially, are told they cannot show anger...or people won't like you. Boys are told that tears are an unacceptable show of weakness—Man Up.

Oof.

Are any of us allowed an honest expression of our emotions? Can we say what we think, or must we carefully couch our terms and remain so reasonable? Be polite. It is a calmer existence, but it values the status quo over change, manners over justice.

Children are passionate beings and fairness is critically important to them. Yes, this starts with the personal—Mom, he got a bigger piece of cake than me! But they pay careful attention to wider issues—they notice how people are treated, and they are so very disturbed to see injustice. They do not minimize or reason it, pointing out the complexity of the situation. They see that it is wrong, and they want to know why, and how it might be fixed.

Using this passionate eye to justice, let’s return to that Network quote with a bit more context.




That’s a 1976 film. A whole lot of it still applies. What else comes to mind?

*Black Lives Matter – the extrajudicial executions of people of color by police, the burning of six African American churches in the past week, the assassination of an African American senator minister and eight other souls in an AME church in Charleston and still the Confederate Flag flies?

*While the Obergefell decision brings marriage equality across the land, many LGBTQ people are still denied basic rights of fair employment, life, and dignity. Trans folk, especially trans women, are being killed for who they are, then misgendered in police reports and the news. Nearly half of homeless teenagers are homeless because their parents kicked them out when they came out.

*Americans are increasingly financially insecure. Laid off when oil prices drop or industry moves elsewhere, buried in spiraling student debt, caught in stagnant wages. The minimum wage in 1976 went up to $2.30 …adjusted for inflation, that’s a little over $9/hr today. Better than our current $7.25.

When faced with the hurts and seemingly insurmountable problems of the world today, it is so very easy to flail, and to curl up in a ball in our safe living rooms. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel powerless and oh so small—I Can’t Adult! What can one person do?

This despair comes when I believe the lie of independence, a myth both pernicious and paralyzing. We all need help. We all need connection—to be part of an endeavor, to have friends, and to be held in circles of caring.

And big goals need many hands and many hearts and many minds. On the front of every order of service, on our website, our newsletter, you will find Emerson UU Church’s statement of identity— Our beloved community of faith, reason, and affection welcomes all to grow in mind and spirit as we build a better world.

Cindy Beal, one of my wise colleagues, reminds us that

The arc of the moral universe bends toward justice, and usually it's because we bend it….
The goal of justice has to be all of us, my people. And what if our goal was to create a society in which no one ever had to say "Stop killing us."
Every single person deserves dignity, respect, and physical, mental, and even emotional and spiritual safety and embodied joy. Yes, joy. We can set goals that are based on healthy embodied joy. That's what I'm aiming for.
Can you imagine a world where we set goals based on the healthy embodied joy of every person?

Embracing the strengths of childhood, of playfulness and joy, wonder, and authentic emotion, honoring our passion for justice, how might we build that better world? What do our five-year old selves call us to do?

Many things.

One, of course, is our upcoming LGBTQ Wedding Day—around the church you’ll find these gray panels of paper. Before you leave today, please draw a happy picture or write your congratulations to the couples who will be married here two weeks from yesterday. The papers will become the window coverings in rooms upstairs where these couples will make the final preparations for their long awaited ceremonies.

Out in the Gathering Place we’ve got a sign-up table for volunteers, with opportunities before and during the event, a chance to use your favorite or long-neglected talents and passions to bring joy to others.

And next Sunday, the Reverend Chuck Freeman will be in this pulpit, to share the uniquely Texan story of Mary and James Billings, Universalists who spread their message of justice over a hundred years ago, and more on our Texas Unitarian Universalist Justice Ministry, working with state legislators to bring about equality, peace, and compassion in this vast and complicated state.

In the meantime, dream big and talk with others here—what makes your heart sing with possibility? How will you share your joy and wonder with a world that needs it?

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Chumbawamba Sunflower


 A couple of months ago my son brought home a sad little sunflower seedling in a busted bucket. He cleared space in the front garden and planted the sucker.

I was dubious. Sunflowers are not generally transplanted, but he made it happen with daily watering and care. The plant is at least six feet tall.

We've just had the wettest May on record, including several punishing storms. The night we got eight inches of rain also featured winds and hail--the spindly plant was bent and barely hanging on.

A week later it's mostly upright again and has put forth more blossoms. 

May we all be so resilient.


Friday, May 29, 2015

Drafts

Once in a while I have thoughts for a blog post and I start writing, only to realize that it is not ready. Perhaps it's an idea I'm still processing, intellectually or emotionally. Sometimes the post is bigger than I can tackle in the time (or laptop charge) I have available that day.

So I click the Save button and start something new, figuring that I will get back to the draft sooner or later. Or not, if the topic proves ephemeral. The good news is, draft blog entries, even if they accumulate, are tiny digital files--they take up very little space. 

As opposed to the piles of various projects partitioned out on my dining room table, forcing me to review papers on the floor when I run out of space up top. The work of possibility is rarely tidy.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Closing In On Normal

We got home from the hospital on Monday.
Today my son went back to school, surprising all of us by making it through an entire day.
I spent more than a couple of hours in the office, though I did not make it through the whole day, because the Mom Job is still expecting overtime.

We are not yet fully unpacked. I know I haven't put away my clean laundry or found any number of things.

But I am getting back to normal in a different way--I've started tomorrow's sourdough. Or at least an attempt-we'll see how the starter survived my absence. It did not get fed as regularly as I would have liked, and the containers should have been scraped and washed. But it was something I could delegate in a week when I was needed elsewhere.

I am hopeful that tomorrow we'll have a true boule (water, starter, flour, salt) as well as a brown sugar oatmeal bread.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Way of Things

Meanest Mom Ever
is a title that works better
when your kid's not sick.

You don't tell a kid
Mostly dead for half the day
to tidy the room.

But soon.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Pitching In

We're on Day Six in the hospital, with four or five left to go so my son can finish treatment and work on getting stronger.

Throughout the adventure, we've worked with at least thirty doctors and students, fifteen nurses, two crews of paramedics, eight patient care assistants, ten respiratory techs, a half dozen folks in imaging (xray, ultrasound, MRI), then the innumerable people who've brought his trays and linens and meds, cleaned the room, offered him distractions and organized his care. So many people are behind the scenes, folks we may never meet.

And then there are our friends, who've brought us food and cute socks and strong shoulders, listened to me rant and wonder and curse. Who've offered to bring dinner to the other half of my family, to help with all sorts of things. There are the folks at work who are pitching in to make things happen while I'm away, and all the people who've sent well wishes and cards and balloon bouquets.

I am awed by all this activity. 

AND, I'd still rather we had avoided the medical emergencies in the first place. There is no revelation valuable enough to make the hell time worth it.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Jumping Up And Down Cussing

doesn't always make things better, but studies show that the cursing can relieve pain.

Secondborn and I have declared his hospital room a cuss-ok place. Just when it's the two of us--no harming the delicate ears of nurses.

We've had a bunch of pain this week, and no energy for filters. Honesty is easier and sometimes things are just *^*^&@%#^ hard.

When we get home we'll find our manners. They probably fell out in our own comfy beds, or in the couch cushions with that lost remote control.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Risk


This anole thinks he is hiding from us.

See, he would love to be out on that dark wood trim, basking in the afternoon sun.

But I am far bigger than him, and he's unsure of my intentions. Perhaps I want to eat him or rip off his tail... or maybe he's just camera shy.

He will be a bit cold as he hunkers down with the weather tonight, but he lives to see another day. 

Choosing when to stick one's neck out can be a complicated decision.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

A Theology of #SexUUality

Unitarian Universalists have a long history of courage in tackling issues around human sexuality—from campaigning for human rights, to pioneering innovative work in the Our Whole Lives sexuality curriculum… join #UUs this month for a discussion of sex–the challenging parts, the beautiful parts, the spiritual parts, and even the downright goofy parts. UU or not, everyone is welcome to join in the conversation this month at #sexUUality
Most Sunday School offices have shelves of curriculum binders, books, and other resources. Years ago, inventorying my inherited cabinet, I found fifty-three Bibles, a half dozen recycling guides, most every UUA curriculum... and then I came across what looked like a small black laptop bag. The label on the front was something nondescript like "Educator Kit."

I unzipped the bag and laughed as a wooden "condom demonstrator" and a dozen condoms fell to the floor.  Further investigation showed a wider variety of contraceptives and other resources.

In partnership with the United Church of Christ, the Unitarian Universalist Association puts a lot of resources into producing Our Whole Lives (OWL), a comprehensive sexuality education program for people at all ages and stages of life. The materials are fact-based, facilitator training is required, and there's a strong emphasis on community-building and dialogue.

In our current social climate of purity education, legislation against women's reproductive rights, and so much discrimination, faith-based sexuality education can seem a ridiculous combination.

But I assure you--this is deeply theological work. Speaking to what is most dear, most joyous, most painful in our lives--the sublime and the messy, sometimes all in the same moment. It is difficult, maybe even impossible, to embody our values without a healthy and moral understanding of our sexuality.

As a Unitarian Universalist religious professional, I am called to be a theologian. And that theology must affirm all people, with their full selves. 
Engage!

Unitarian minister and theologian James Luther Adams explained the qualities of liberal religion--commonly referred to as the Five Smooth Stones of Liberal Religion*.

I asked my blogging community if anyone had applied the five stones to a UU theology of sexuality- a fellow blogger quipped that it might be like adding "in bed" to your fortune... let's see how it lines up. For this exercise, I'm borrowing quick snippets from an Adult Ed resource- text in bold is either a quote or a quick restating of JLA's** key concept.

Revelation is ongoing - We are always learning more about our own sexuality, about our communities, and how we can do better at building a world where we are all affirmed for our full authentic selves. And there's definitely no single Gospel truth to sexuality. PASS.

"All relations between persons ought ideally to rest on mutual, free consent and not on coercion." AMEN. This right here is ginormous and worth every blog post I could write for the rest of my life, especially when we're talking sexuality. So much of the OWL values and sessions speak directly to this point. PASS

I'm going to group these next three, as that's how they play out in my mind...

"The moral obligation to direct one's effort toward the establishment of a just and loving community" - We are called to work for justice.

"we deny the immaculate conception of virtue and affirm the necessity of social incarnation." We can't just assume that it's all going to work out--we make it happen. 

"...resources (divine and human) that are available for the achievement of meaningful change justify an attitude of ultimate optimism." There is hope, and the systems and possibilities to make that hope feasible.

The existence of OWL, the many amazing sermons and resources we have created, the important advocacy work we have done as individuals, congregations, and as an association, and the affirmations we make in our relationships with one another--these all speak to a commitment to justice and making change, with real hope and passion.    PASS

This post is only a starting point--but this was a February project--the month is nearly over.  I welcome questions and suggestions, knowing our truths are forever unfolding.





*You can find the full Adams essay, "Guiding Principles for a Free Faith" in the collection On Being Human Religiously. It's a dense but interesting collection. You can preview the essay here(By the way--that Five Smooth Stones allusion was chosen by his editor. Please don't cast stones at me or James.)

**Yes, I still think Justice League of America when I see this acronym.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Planting

"Bloom where you're planted," we're told.

That is not always an easy task--we need the right resources, which are so rarely shared equally. What if we're the seed scattered on the hardened path?

The planting piece--beyond our control sometimes.

See the plant growing out of this hole in a rock? It's tenacious in that barren place, or perhaps humus was already in that hole, helping a plant to get established. Still, the plant's unlikely spot reminds us that nature can pretty much handle everything we throw at it.


Whether or not it pleases us, though--that is another question entirely.



Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Thank Goodness For The Internet

Someone remarked to me that they could not believe the community she had found online--how supportive and tightly bonded a group of people, sharing a specific life event in common.

Finding someone else who really gets it because they have lived it is invaluable. And with a computer and a bit of clicking about, chances are you can find people who've gone what you're dealing with.

Heck, there are support groups for families dealing with exceedingly rare (less than 100 cases recorded) diseases. Chances are these folks would not run into one another at the pediatrician. Thirty years ago they might have met if they traveled to see the same specialist. But over a computer screen, where they can chat in the in-between moments of life and when they can't get back to sleep at 3 AM? That's living in
 the future.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Stop Making Sense*

11 PM on a Sunday night and I'm starting tomorrow's sourdough bread.

Bread making is not efficient. It takes hours and hours. Sourdough especially.
It's not the easiest of things either--it's persnickety and requires attention.


I could go to the store and for less than $5 get a lovely loaf--probably more consistent than my batches have been thus far. (Yes, my ingredients are less expensive. Until you add in the time and effort, and having to do dishes.)


It would be sensible enough for me to give up this hobby, to spend the time more appropriately--catching up on housekeeping, remembering the dry cleaning, becoming a well-rounded person, or you know, sleeping.

But sometimes life isn't about a direct goal or what is most efficient and obvious. You might need to follow a passion, to have a place for experiments and growth. It may or may not make sense on paper.

This is true of our church lives as well. For all that it's good to have a clear mission and a long-term plan, there will come opportunities, relationships, passions. I find that these often come as interruptions, often in the middle of a hectic afternoon/week/year. It may very well be more sensible to stay the course, to say "that's a lovely idea, but we don't have the capacity for it right now." To give the short greeting and have every intention of getting back to that person later. All the things that create community.

What is rising in your soul?



*Yep, I just referenced a thirty-year old Talking Heads movie. Goofball Gen-Xer...

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Winter flower

January in Houston

We haven't seen the sun for days and days and days, but still flowers are blossoming.

I guess it's supposed to give us hope.


Really, I'd prefer to see the sun.

All week they've claimed that Thursday would be the sunny day.

Now they're saying Friday.

And we can use the rain.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Gutting A System

A library nearby closed for renovations in May. It will reopen in the fall of 2015--that seemed an incredibly long estimate for a renovation. And then we saw the gutting of a building. All interior walls gone, ceilings stripped, even the big sign out front demolished. 

Huh. Maybe they were just going to flatten the place and start over... But no. They brought in special supports and kept the walls. It looks like someone's setting up the walls for a gingerbread house. 

The library is in the midst of a physical transformation. What was state-of-the-art in 1975 was not fitting the needs of our twenty-first century community. So over the next nine months they will rebuild, with dedicated spaces designed to better match its people and their programs.

Some days this sounds really daunting.
Other days it should hopeful and exhilarating.

Monday, January 5, 2015

History and Future

I love living in the future.

In my pajamas, from the comfort of my couch, I'm watching streaming footage from a courthouse in Key West, Florida, where they're about to start issuing same-sex marriage licenses.


History is being made, and I get to see it.

And the Fifth Circuit hears oral arguments on Friday, January 9th. Oh, Texas, please!

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

#FinishingTheYear

My dear friend and colleague Andrea Lerner gave an end-of-year challenge-
Select unfinished project/craft
Complete by 12/31
Post smiling ‪#‎FinishingTheYear‬ Pic
Revel in your accomplishment!


I have any number of "Get Around To It" projects that could qualify. 


The one chosen? The major pruning of my rose bushes.

I hate to cut back roses while they're blooming, yet in Houston, they never truly go dormant. So for several years I've taken tiny swipes at a few unruly canes, leaving me with leggy and too-tall plants. Here's one.


Today, though, I went forth bravely and chopped the bushes back to about a foot tall. Woof.


I conscripted my sons to bundle up the leavings, and we put a few of the blooms in the house for a New Year's Eve gathering.


I know the roses will grow back better than ever, and this also let us get rid of some volunteer trees growing around the base. Now to wait for Spring...










Monday, December 29, 2014

The Soup Of Love

For decades my mother has made a beef barley soup that is about the best thing ever. Beef, broth, barley, and oodles and oodles of mushrooms*. A bit of onion and maybe some carrot and garlic. 

It is not an especially complicated soup, though she does start by making her own broth. It takes time, to be certain. To find the ingredients, to prep, to let things simmer.

I could totally handle making this soup.

But I have never made it. 

I wait for my mother to visit, just once or twice a year. We spend an afternoon shopping for the ingredients and she spends the better part of a day making the broth and then the soup. Often there are homemade rolls as well. I have some, and we freeze much of it in one-quart containers--Mom has been known to label the lids with love notes, while I do more possessive/ warning tags. "NOT YOUR SOUP!**" and the like.

Those little care packages are there for me when I am sick of body or heart, or just wishing that my family of origin were less than twelve hundred miles away.




*Truthfully, this should be known as a mushroom-barley-beef soup, but that's not the current practice.

**My sons sometimes need reminding that not all things are theirs to devour.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

(Warning- Crude Language--and Philosophy)

We watched Guardians of the Galaxy again tonight and I was struck by individual lines, and the full picture they put together. A lot of fun, and some sweet wisdom.

Peter AKA Starlord is a scamp, rarely on the right side of the law. But when he realizes that a truly evil dude is coming to attack a planet, he needs to do something--so he writes a letter to an officer (Rhomann Dey) who's arrested him a few times.

Here's a favorite piece- bleeped just a bit so it doesn't set off your net nannies.


Rhomann Dey: He said that he may be an... "a-hole". But he's not, and I quote, "100% a d!ck".
Nova Prime Rael: Do you believe him?
Rhomann Dey: Well, I don't know if I believe anyone is 100% a d!ck...
Nova Prime Rael: Do you believe he's here to help?
Rhomann Dey: ...Yeah, I do.
(This transcript taken from IMDB.)

I am all over the idea that there is some good in everyone, and that no one is beyond redemption. This movie is a ton of fun, but it's also about very imperfect beings coming together to make things right, and growing into better beings in the process. 

Monday, December 22, 2014

My Less Than Glamorous Present To Myself

On Friday I mentioned that this part of my office is bugging me. So many things that need to be put away--the space is not just unusable, it's overwhelming.

I'm halfway through my fourth year in this job and this office, yet considerable archaeology is still needed. In the normal rhythms of congregational life, stopping in midstream to empty an office just doesn't happen.

So today I gave myself a present.  

I went into church on my Sabbath, my Never Go To Work Day and spent several hours--not just attacking the worst of the clutter--but moving things out of the office that I never would have put there in the first place.


Those tall cardboard boxes in the corner? They contain heavy rolls of bulletin board paper. And now they're in storage across the building, where I can still get to them as needed, but don't need to see them every day.

The drawers underneath are a map/blueprint cabinet, and yet poster board is stacked atop because there was no room in the actual storage unit. Instead, it was full of carefully sorted posters, maps, and pictures of all sorts of things--some of the papers were older than me. I recycled anything ripped or crumpled, made a thousand decisions as to what the program might ever need, and put all the discards in a bottom drawer, so I can ask a predecessor to claim or flame* after the holidays.
 
To sort everything in the drawers, I had to completely clear off the counter top here. I knew some of you would want a picture of the stark emptiness, which might never happen again.

I went through all sorts of nooks and crannies in this unit, finding many "WHAT is that?" items.


By the time I had to leave, the space looked like this. The baskets on the left deliver lesson materials to classes each week, while the binders to the right are from the trainings I've attended over the years. This way they're accessible and visible, but free up space on the bookshelf where I keep my personal professional library. 

(The final reward of this project will be reorganizing this case so I can find the books I need at a glance--having a helper alphabetize by author sounded like a great idea, but it turns out that I rarely remember authors...)

The office is far from done, but today it became more useful to me, and to our program as it currently exists.

Was it an appropriate use of my Sabbath day? Well, it was more work than I would generally do, but it was restorative, and I am hoping it pays dividends in the months to come. (And hey, my sons are off school for the holidays, so the office may have been a quieter haven!)


*No, we won't actually set any fires, though I have considered such drastic measures in my weaker moments. I just couldn't find a synonym for claim that rhymes with recycle.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Coincidences As Reminders

We are all connected and have so very much in common. 

Some days this is more obvious than others.

Today I found myself in a checkout line when the guy in front of me explained that he had to get two of each toy because he has four-year old twins. The cashier laughed knowingly and shared that she has twenty-year old twins. And then I chimed in, telling him of my teens. We both assured him that parenting twins gets easier once they're in first grade, and that he would get through it.

After that I went to lunch at my favorite Indian place--and the guy at the next table was wearing a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. I greeted him with "Go Packers!" and sat down. When he started talking to the older woman across from him, I realized that they were not only from my home state of Wisconsin, but from my part of the state even. He sounded like my Uncle Matt, and the woman sounded a lot like one of my great aunts.

All this on my writing day, when I would usually stick to the hermitage.