Posts
Another pastor bites the dust. Last week, news readers heard about Matt Jarrell, a traveling man with a wife, four children and a congregation in Mesquite, TX. This pastor accumulated arrests on his travels for soliciting prostitutes, illegal handgun possession, and rape. Two days after the final arrest, he hanged himself in his jail cell.
Jarrell led the double life, a life without integrity.
I read this once: "Integrity is the act of doing what is right when alone and unobserved." Good definition. Matt Jarrell failed.
Mature people integrate their external and internal selves. Ideally, adults teach children how to behave morally by placing outward restrictions on their behaviors and then teaching them to internalize those restrictions. Should a child steal, parents rightly insist that what was stolen be returned with apology and restitution. This is followed by instruction on honoring the life and possessions of others.
In time parents hope the child's inner voice, the conscience, will become well developed.
So, again ideally, the Matt Jarrell's of the world become aware early in life of their tendencies to lie, manipulate and use other people wrongly. They work diligently to transform those tendencies by practicing truth, compassion and service to others.
But some do not choose that path, and instead practice habits that lead to a life without integrity, the double life. As aware as I am of the dark side of human nature, I am still occasionally shocked when I come face to face with one who has made those choices.
At the church I serve, we have been faced with a series of thefts. One item, a very much needed commercial carpet cleaner, bothers me more than anything. With so many children in the building, we need to be able to clean the carpets frequently. We recently invested in this piece of equipment in order to keep the building as clean and safe as possible for these little ones. I do not understand punishing innocent children for the sake of self-gratification.
That theft, in addition to the other things taken, have also led to a troubling question: how much do we restrict access to this building? It's so easy to say, "A church is a business and should operate that way." Yes, it is a business, and wise business principles should be followed.
But a church is more than a simply a business. It is also a group of people who are called to worship God and serve the world. Physically, it is a place where people gather intentionally to engage in those acts of worship and service. To put restrictions upon entrance to worship and service disturbs my spirit. More, it sets the basis of relationship as non-trust instead of trust.
Years ago, I made the decision to enter into any relationship using trust as my primary bridge of connection. I will not change my mind on that decision, even as it means personally getting hurt. It is right decision for me.
Yes, I am hurt by what has happened. So is this worshiping community and I suppose we will have to lock down things tighter.
Mostly, however, in the aftermath of these thefts, I ache for the one who needed to take these things. The one without integrity is unable to trust anyone else. Result: loneliness, isolation, a sense that the world is out to get them, and a loss of the understanding that God is good.
It's a tough way to live and leads to a loss of hope in salvation, for God cannot be trusted in this mind-set. The only hope is repentance, that profound change of mind and direction that transforms the soul. With repentance, the gates to the kingdom of heaven fly wide open again. Without it, we are doomed and damned. We all get to choose which it will be.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Untrustworthy Life
Another pastor bites the dust. Last week, news readers heard about Matt Jarrell, a traveling man with a wife, four children and a congregation in Mesquite, TX. This pastor accumulated arrests on his travels for soliciting prostitutes, illegal handgun possession, and rape. Two days after the final arrest, he hanged himself in his jail cell.
Jarrell led the double life, a life without integrity.
I read this once: "Integrity is the act of doing what is right when alone and unobserved." Good definition. Matt Jarrell failed.
Mature people integrate their external and internal selves. Ideally, adults teach children how to behave morally by placing outward restrictions on their behaviors and then teaching them to internalize those restrictions. Should a child steal, parents rightly insist that what was stolen be returned with apology and restitution. This is followed by instruction on honoring the life and possessions of others.
In time parents hope the child's inner voice, the conscience, will become well developed.
So, again ideally, the Matt Jarrell's of the world become aware early in life of their tendencies to lie, manipulate and use other people wrongly. They work diligently to transform those tendencies by practicing truth, compassion and service to others.
But some do not choose that path, and instead practice habits that lead to a life without integrity, the double life. As aware as I am of the dark side of human nature, I am still occasionally shocked when I come face to face with one who has made those choices.
At the church I serve, we have been faced with a series of thefts. One item, a very much needed commercial carpet cleaner, bothers me more than anything. With so many children in the building, we need to be able to clean the carpets frequently. We recently invested in this piece of equipment in order to keep the building as clean and safe as possible for these little ones. I do not understand punishing innocent children for the sake of self-gratification.
That theft, in addition to the other things taken, have also led to a troubling question: how much do we restrict access to this building? It's so easy to say, "A church is a business and should operate that way." Yes, it is a business, and wise business principles should be followed.
But a church is more than a simply a business. It is also a group of people who are called to worship God and serve the world. Physically, it is a place where people gather intentionally to engage in those acts of worship and service. To put restrictions upon entrance to worship and service disturbs my spirit. More, it sets the basis of relationship as non-trust instead of trust.
Years ago, I made the decision to enter into any relationship using trust as my primary bridge of connection. I will not change my mind on that decision, even as it means personally getting hurt. It is right decision for me.
Yes, I am hurt by what has happened. So is this worshiping community and I suppose we will have to lock down things tighter.
Mostly, however, in the aftermath of these thefts, I ache for the one who needed to take these things. The one without integrity is unable to trust anyone else. Result: loneliness, isolation, a sense that the world is out to get them, and a loss of the understanding that God is good.
It's a tough way to live and leads to a loss of hope in salvation, for God cannot be trusted in this mind-set. The only hope is repentance, that profound change of mind and direction that transforms the soul. With repentance, the gates to the kingdom of heaven fly wide open again. Without it, we are doomed and damned. We all get to choose which it will be.
Jarrell led the double life, a life without integrity.
I read this once: "Integrity is the act of doing what is right when alone and unobserved." Good definition. Matt Jarrell failed.
Mature people integrate their external and internal selves. Ideally, adults teach children how to behave morally by placing outward restrictions on their behaviors and then teaching them to internalize those restrictions. Should a child steal, parents rightly insist that what was stolen be returned with apology and restitution. This is followed by instruction on honoring the life and possessions of others.
In time parents hope the child's inner voice, the conscience, will become well developed.
So, again ideally, the Matt Jarrell's of the world become aware early in life of their tendencies to lie, manipulate and use other people wrongly. They work diligently to transform those tendencies by practicing truth, compassion and service to others.
But some do not choose that path, and instead practice habits that lead to a life without integrity, the double life. As aware as I am of the dark side of human nature, I am still occasionally shocked when I come face to face with one who has made those choices.
At the church I serve, we have been faced with a series of thefts. One item, a very much needed commercial carpet cleaner, bothers me more than anything. With so many children in the building, we need to be able to clean the carpets frequently. We recently invested in this piece of equipment in order to keep the building as clean and safe as possible for these little ones. I do not understand punishing innocent children for the sake of self-gratification.
That theft, in addition to the other things taken, have also led to a troubling question: how much do we restrict access to this building? It's so easy to say, "A church is a business and should operate that way." Yes, it is a business, and wise business principles should be followed.
But a church is more than a simply a business. It is also a group of people who are called to worship God and serve the world. Physically, it is a place where people gather intentionally to engage in those acts of worship and service. To put restrictions upon entrance to worship and service disturbs my spirit. More, it sets the basis of relationship as non-trust instead of trust.
Years ago, I made the decision to enter into any relationship using trust as my primary bridge of connection. I will not change my mind on that decision, even as it means personally getting hurt. It is right decision for me.
Yes, I am hurt by what has happened. So is this worshiping community and I suppose we will have to lock down things tighter.
Mostly, however, in the aftermath of these thefts, I ache for the one who needed to take these things. The one without integrity is unable to trust anyone else. Result: loneliness, isolation, a sense that the world is out to get them, and a loss of the understanding that God is good.
It's a tough way to live and leads to a loss of hope in salvation, for God cannot be trusted in this mind-set. The only hope is repentance, that profound change of mind and direction that transforms the soul. With repentance, the gates to the kingdom of heaven fly wide open again. Without it, we are doomed and damned. We all get to choose which it will be.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
The World is Still Around
Well, despite the predictions of Harold Camping, of Family Radio and end-of-the-world scenarios, it didn't happen.
By now, should Camping have been correct, those of us left on this rapidly self-destructing earth should have been faced with a massive clean-up effort after the true believers were caught up in heaven on May 21. At least I suppose there would be a massive clean-up effort--those rolling earthquakes that were supposed to start in New Zealand and move around the earth would certainly have left a lot of destruction.
I know the church has problems--but I have long decided that anyone who says he or she alone has the proper interpretation of Biblical truths with no willingness to listen to other scholars and seekers after wisdom and godliness is indeed a dangerous person--and may have very well crossed over the line to evil, however unintentional.
By now, should Camping have been correct, those of us left on this rapidly self-destructing earth should have been faced with a massive clean-up effort after the true believers were caught up in heaven on May 21. At least I suppose there would be a massive clean-up effort--those rolling earthquakes that were supposed to start in New Zealand and move around the earth would certainly have left a lot of destruction.
I grew up with these Rapture scenarios--and they scared me. What if I wasn't actually saved? What about all those people driving cars and piloting planes and operating heavy machinery and nuclear plants when they suddenly disappeared--and the cars and planes crashed and the heavy machinery kept going without guidance and the nuclear plants melted down--well, you can visualize the rest.
What scared me more is that it appeared that God really doesn't care about the whole world, only for the few that had managed to worm their way into God's pleasure. I remember being highly convinced that there were only a tiny number of "real" Christians, that is, those who believed exactly as I did. As for the rest--I did genuinely feel sorry for them, but there was also a unspoken and barely acknowledged gleeful sense of, "I'm in, they are out--makes me pretty special, doesn't it?"
All this makes for an amazingly mean and unloving deity and an amazingly mean and unloving group of people who are followers of such a deity. Why is there such a strong human penchant for a God who delights in sending much of humanity to eternal damnation?
Also, if God is really that cruel, then our only hope is to appease such a one. However, does appeasement work when such cruelty is at the existential core?
At the risk of my own eternal torment here, I call such a deity extraordinarily wicked. Why? Because I've known and read about way too many people who actually operate that way. They use power to declare certain ones "in" and certain ones "out" and demand obeisance and penance and appeasement to keep their wrath from falling even on the apparently favored ones. They are the tyrants that destroy others in order build up their own fiefdoms. They lead families, run businesses, populate the political world, start wars, stimulate terrorism, and make everyone around them miserable, using fear, guilt and punishment as ways to keep the less powerful dancing to their inner and twisted tunes.
Why do we want such Gods? I think because we ourselves like being capricious tyrants, so we need God to be a tyrant in order to justify our own actions. Some of the most evil people I know cloak their words and actions with "god-language" to mask their despicable thoughts and actions. They need God to be equally despicable, so they can justify their actions by claiming they were prodded by their God.
Was Harold Camping, the 89 year old self-taught Bible scholar an evil man? In some of the articles I read about him, he certainly doesn't come across that way. Yet he intentionally left the church behind, a church that might have helped keep him accountable to a larger body of biblical interpretation, and led a large group of people into deception and some real foolishness--like spending their children's educational funds because they thought they wouldn't need them.
I know the church has problems--but I have long decided that anyone who says he or she alone has the proper interpretation of Biblical truths with no willingness to listen to other scholars and seekers after wisdom and godliness is indeed a dangerous person--and may have very well crossed over the line to evil, however unintentional.
This is why I chose to become part of a connectional church. The United Methodist Church, for all its faults--and I can name them easily--does not let its pastors and leaders make pronouncements without accountability and needed checks from other sources. This journey to salvation cannot be done in isolation, or we'll wander off the path for sure. Unfortunately, Mr. Camping did exactly that, and many will suffer because of his arrogance.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
The Only Child Syndrome
I've come to the conclusion that, at heart, we all want to be only children. Deep inside each of us wants the full attention of our mother, father, God and anyone else we consider important in our lives. We don't want to share that attention with others. I suspect we're convinced that if we do, there won't be enough love, gifts, time, etc. to go around.
Two weeks with grandchildren now have reinforced that view. These particular grands are both boys, just 17 months apart in age, 5 and 3 1/2. They generally play together well, and there are those special moments when clearly the older one is looking out for the younger one.
However, they behave the best when by themselves having the full attention of parents or grandparents who are also doing exactly what the child wants done. They behave the worst when competing for the attention of the big people in their lives. And while they do have much fun together, they also pick on each other, and know very well how best to irritate and infuriate each other and get the other in trouble.
Those moments when they get that coveted undivided attention of parents also often lead to more discord between the siblings later--they seem to need to compare and boast about those attentions and see if they can spur jealousy on the part of the other.
Essentially, they are adorable little narcissists, just like most adults I know.
I wonder if this need to be only children--and I think it is universal--is the source is much of the religious conflict that seems to have characterized much of the world for known history. We will not wrap our minds around the idea that God might deal differently with different members of the human family. The negative implications of this only child syndrome lead to intense watchfulness to see if someone else might receive more favors, more attention, more perceived blessing than we ourselves may be experiencing.
As do children, we observe carefully to see if the cake is divided perfectly evenly--and if it is not, we grab for the biggest piece ourselves. As do children, we are quick to scream "It's not fair!" when it looks like a sibling is getting special privilege--or we are getting special discipline.
Children have great difficulty with the concept that parents can love all fully, but may have to treat each differently. But anyone with more than one child knows that each successive child in the family actually has different parents, because the parents themselves will have changed by what they have learned and by the different personalities of the children themselves.
We carry that difficulty to adulthood. We don't come easily to the idea that God might relate differently to different parts of the created world and and yet God still has profound love for us. These differences in relating do not change the essential nature of God or the nature of the redemptive process. It's just individual from person to person.
Somewhere deep inside most of us lingers a huge fear that we are going to get left out. And the best way to keep from getting left out is to knock down everyone else so we are the only one left. The only child, the one who gets all the attention.
How sad that we can't seem to be get past this and instead be willing and active participants in the process of seeing God's will done on earth as well as in heaven.
Two weeks with grandchildren now have reinforced that view. These particular grands are both boys, just 17 months apart in age, 5 and 3 1/2. They generally play together well, and there are those special moments when clearly the older one is looking out for the younger one.
However, they behave the best when by themselves having the full attention of parents or grandparents who are also doing exactly what the child wants done. They behave the worst when competing for the attention of the big people in their lives. And while they do have much fun together, they also pick on each other, and know very well how best to irritate and infuriate each other and get the other in trouble.
Those moments when they get that coveted undivided attention of parents also often lead to more discord between the siblings later--they seem to need to compare and boast about those attentions and see if they can spur jealousy on the part of the other.
Essentially, they are adorable little narcissists, just like most adults I know.
I wonder if this need to be only children--and I think it is universal--is the source is much of the religious conflict that seems to have characterized much of the world for known history. We will not wrap our minds around the idea that God might deal differently with different members of the human family. The negative implications of this only child syndrome lead to intense watchfulness to see if someone else might receive more favors, more attention, more perceived blessing than we ourselves may be experiencing.
As do children, we observe carefully to see if the cake is divided perfectly evenly--and if it is not, we grab for the biggest piece ourselves. As do children, we are quick to scream "It's not fair!" when it looks like a sibling is getting special privilege--or we are getting special discipline.
Children have great difficulty with the concept that parents can love all fully, but may have to treat each differently. But anyone with more than one child knows that each successive child in the family actually has different parents, because the parents themselves will have changed by what they have learned and by the different personalities of the children themselves.
We carry that difficulty to adulthood. We don't come easily to the idea that God might relate differently to different parts of the created world and and yet God still has profound love for us. These differences in relating do not change the essential nature of God or the nature of the redemptive process. It's just individual from person to person.
Somewhere deep inside most of us lingers a huge fear that we are going to get left out. And the best way to keep from getting left out is to knock down everyone else so we are the only one left. The only child, the one who gets all the attention.
How sad that we can't seem to be get past this and instead be willing and active participants in the process of seeing God's will done on earth as well as in heaven.
The Only Child Syndrome
I've come to the conclusion that, at heart, we all want to be only children. Deep inside each of us wants the full attention of our mother, father, God and anyone else we consider important in our lives. We don't want to share that attention with others. I suspect we're convinced that if we do, there won't be enough love, gifts, time, etc. to go around.
Two weeks with grandchildren now have reinforced that view. These particular grands are both boys, just 17 months apart in age, 5 and 3 1/2. They generally play together well, and there are those special moments when clearly the older one is looking out for the younger one.
However, they behave the best when by themselves having the full attention of parents or grandparents who are also doing exactly what the child wants done. They behave the worst when competing for the attention of the big people in their lives. And while they do have much fun together, they also pick on each other, and know very well how best to irritate and infuriate each other and get the other in trouble.
Those moments when they get that coveted undivided attention of parents also often lead to more discord between the siblings later--they seem to need to compare and boast about those attentions and see if they can spur jealousy on the part of the other.
Essentially, they are adorable little narcissists, just like most adults I know.
I wonder if this need to be only children--and I think it is universal--is the source is much of the religious conflict that seems to have characterized much of the world for known history. We will not wrap our minds around the idea that God might deal differently with different members of the human family. The negative implications of this only child syndrome lead to intense watchfulness to see if someone else might receive more favors, more attention, more perceived blessing than we ourselves may be experiencing.
As do children, we observe carefully to see if the cake is divided perfectly evenly--and if it is not, we grab for the biggest piece ourselves. As do children, we are quick to scream "It's not fair!" when it looks like a sibling is getting special privilege--or we are getting special discipline.
Children have great difficulty with the concept that parents can love all fully, but may have to treat each differently. But anyone with more than one child knows that each successive child in the family actually has different parents, because the parents themselves will have changed by what they have learned and by the different personalities of the children themselves.
We carry that difficulty to adulthood. We don't come easily to the idea that God might relate differently to different parts of the created world and and yet God still has profound love for us. These differences in relating do not change the essential nature of God or the nature of the redemptive process. It's just individual from person to person.
Somewhere deep inside most of us lingers a huge fear that we are going to get left out. And the best way to keep from getting left out is to knock down everyone else so we are the only one left. The only child, the one who gets all the attention.
How sad that we can't seem to be get past this and instead be willing and active participants in the process of seeing God's will done on earth as well as in heaven.
Two weeks with grandchildren now have reinforced that view. These particular grands are both boys, just 17 months apart in age, 5 and 3 1/2. They generally play together well, and there are those special moments when clearly the older one is looking out for the younger one.
However, they behave the best when by themselves having the full attention of parents or grandparents who are also doing exactly what the child wants done. They behave the worst when competing for the attention of the big people in their lives. And while they do have much fun together, they also pick on each other, and know very well how best to irritate and infuriate each other and get the other in trouble.
Those moments when they get that coveted undivided attention of parents also often lead to more discord between the siblings later--they seem to need to compare and boast about those attentions and see if they can spur jealousy on the part of the other.
Essentially, they are adorable little narcissists, just like most adults I know.
I wonder if this need to be only children--and I think it is universal--is the source is much of the religious conflict that seems to have characterized much of the world for known history. We will not wrap our minds around the idea that God might deal differently with different members of the human family. The negative implications of this only child syndrome lead to intense watchfulness to see if someone else might receive more favors, more attention, more perceived blessing than we ourselves may be experiencing.
As do children, we observe carefully to see if the cake is divided perfectly evenly--and if it is not, we grab for the biggest piece ourselves. As do children, we are quick to scream "It's not fair!" when it looks like a sibling is getting special privilege--or we are getting special discipline.
Children have great difficulty with the concept that parents can love all fully, but may have to treat each differently. But anyone with more than one child knows that each successive child in the family actually has different parents, because the parents themselves will have changed by what they have learned and by the different personalities of the children themselves.
We carry that difficulty to adulthood. We don't come easily to the idea that God might relate differently to different parts of the created world and and yet God still has profound love for us. These differences in relating do not change the essential nature of God or the nature of the redemptive process. It's just individual from person to person.
Somewhere deep inside most of us lingers a huge fear that we are going to get left out. And the best way to keep from getting left out is to knock down everyone else so we are the only one left. The only child, the one who gets all the attention.
How sad that we can't seem to be get past this and instead be willing and active participants in the process of seeing God's will done on earth as well as in heaven.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
The Morning Tonic
Since I have been with my son's family in London, my daughter-in-law has fixed me a tonic that she insists I drink each morning. It is, to me, a foul-tasting concoction of raw garlic, fresh-squeezed lime juice, radish and several other unidentifiable substances. Adriana insists this will cure what ever could possibly ail me.
She comes from a long family line of herbalists. Her mother's family, living near the jungle area of Colombia, has for generations created their own medical potions and used natural substances to deal with disease and sickness. Adriana just told me about the time when they had to chase her around the house and hold her down to take a tonic to rid her body of roundworms, a common ailment in children. It worked fine.
So, every morning, I hold my breath and down six to eight ounces of this stuff, immediately popping a piece of fruit in my mouth afterward to help dispel the yucky aftertaste.
The question is: has it helped? No doubt about it, I do feel better. But I am also sleeping a lot, taking long walks, intentionally tossing my stressors away, eating only the most healthy of foods, and moving to my own rhythms.
Jonathan and Adriana have been incredibly kind and welcoming to me and are more than willing for me stay as long as I'd like. They are going to Brittany at the end of May and even booked an extra cabin for me just in case I'd like to stay and go along.
Obviously, I can't just leave my life behind and move in here. I am, above all, a pastor, and called to this work, a life of service and leadership to God's community that I've found deeply fulfilling.
I also realize that living here brings out a helplessness in me that would eventually drain me. While I'm now finally getting accustomed to finding the passenger seat in the car on the left side, not the right side, and have figured out that if I don't look right when getting ready to cross a street that I might very well get hit by a car, I also know that I would probably never drive if I were to live here.
A sense of competence in living is important for our basic self-images. The self-esteem movement that rewards children for simply showing up actually defeats its own purpose. Self-esteem is built by learning how to do things, and at mastering the essentials tools in order to be able to deal with normal living. Look at a child who is learning to dress himself or herself and notice the beaming face when he or she manages to get the clothes on correctly. That beaming face is repeated thousands of times over as the child becomes more and more able to do things independently.
So, having said that, I do feel a bit incompetent here and know in the long run, this would really wear me down.
So, I shall just savor the next three days here and then prepare for the long flight back, knowing I leave one joy to enter another.
Perhaps that tonic is working, after all!
She comes from a long family line of herbalists. Her mother's family, living near the jungle area of Colombia, has for generations created their own medical potions and used natural substances to deal with disease and sickness. Adriana just told me about the time when they had to chase her around the house and hold her down to take a tonic to rid her body of roundworms, a common ailment in children. It worked fine.
So, every morning, I hold my breath and down six to eight ounces of this stuff, immediately popping a piece of fruit in my mouth afterward to help dispel the yucky aftertaste.
The question is: has it helped? No doubt about it, I do feel better. But I am also sleeping a lot, taking long walks, intentionally tossing my stressors away, eating only the most healthy of foods, and moving to my own rhythms.
Jonathan and Adriana have been incredibly kind and welcoming to me and are more than willing for me stay as long as I'd like. They are going to Brittany at the end of May and even booked an extra cabin for me just in case I'd like to stay and go along.
Obviously, I can't just leave my life behind and move in here. I am, above all, a pastor, and called to this work, a life of service and leadership to God's community that I've found deeply fulfilling.
I also realize that living here brings out a helplessness in me that would eventually drain me. While I'm now finally getting accustomed to finding the passenger seat in the car on the left side, not the right side, and have figured out that if I don't look right when getting ready to cross a street that I might very well get hit by a car, I also know that I would probably never drive if I were to live here.
A sense of competence in living is important for our basic self-images. The self-esteem movement that rewards children for simply showing up actually defeats its own purpose. Self-esteem is built by learning how to do things, and at mastering the essentials tools in order to be able to deal with normal living. Look at a child who is learning to dress himself or herself and notice the beaming face when he or she manages to get the clothes on correctly. That beaming face is repeated thousands of times over as the child becomes more and more able to do things independently.
So, having said that, I do feel a bit incompetent here and know in the long run, this would really wear me down.
So, I shall just savor the next three days here and then prepare for the long flight back, knowing I leave one joy to enter another.
Perhaps that tonic is working, after all!
Friday, May 06, 2011
Fourteen Turns
Since arriving here and fairly frequently accompanying Adriana on her twice or three times daily trips to the boy's school, I have wanted to try to actually describe that drive and what is it like to get the boys into and out of the school each day.
Joshua and Sammy attend a very nice all-male prep school. It is 2 1/2 miles from their house. Although Google Maps, which estimates 8 minutes from home to school, appears to show a more direct route, the route Adriana actually takes involves 14 turns, seven left turns and seven right turns.
Right turns are the more difficult ones here, and it is often that she must make that turn onto quite a busy road without the advantage of stoplights. All streets are amazingly narrow, at least to these American eyes. Many residential streets are two Texas sized lanes wide, with cars parked on both sides. They are also two way streets, so there is a constant dance of weaving in and out of parked cars so those coming in the opposite direction can get through. Much road courtesy here--people know that without cooperation, giving way whenever necessary, these crowded roads will soon shut down. On those residential streets, especially the very narrow ones, I work on staying calm as my passenger side rear-view mirror races by the driver side rear-view mirror often not more than one or two inches away.
As we approach the school, generally ten to eleven minutes after leaving the house, I can see Adriana get ready to play the parking game. There is no parking lot at the school, and although there is a drive through where parents can let their children off, most parents, particularly of the smaller children, (Sammy started before he was three), prefer to park and walk their child or children to the classroom.
The streets near the school have some carefully outlined parking spots--and not very many, for these streets are all residential, all houses with driveways to the street, and all houses very close together, so there is minimal curb space. Adriana's eagle eye will hone in on a possible spot, and she rapidly speeds up to see if she can grab it before the next parent gets it.
She must be parked precisely within the marked lines or she will get a ticket. These lines fit compact cars only. They drive a compact SUV, and there is only inches of play on all four sides for her. Just in case you are wondering, no Texas-sized truck would have a chance here.
We all tumble out, the boys looking absolutely adorable in their smart uniforms, and join the other parents in trying to get the children to their classrooms before the tardy bell rings. The small foyer opening to the classroom areas is packed with parents and little boys. We head for the nursery first, where Sammy grabs each of us, Mom, Granny, Brother, deposits a hearty kiss, and then politely greets his teacher and walks in. Then we wind our way back through the foyer into another narrow hall leading to three classrooms. It is packed with parents and the four and five year old boys, each needing to find the proper peg to hang his jacket on. The older boys wear maroon sports jackets with the school insignia on them over a maroon sweatshirt and white polo shirts (also with the school insignia) and dress gray flannel shorts with gray and maroon knee socks and black shoes. The jackets themselves must be carefully hung from the correct peg so they can be found later.
Again, kisses at the classroom, and Adriana and I make our way out, often stopped as the mothers and dads eagerly greet one another and often make plans for later in the today for each other and for their children. A multiplicity of languages is heard--this particular prep school seems to be a magnet for the many internationals who live here. I am guessing there is a parent and child from every continent in that crowded foyer each morning.
Then finally back to the car, and hope for no ticket because the police wander these streets constantly and ticket anything not in perfect compliance with the parking regulations. Four days a week, Adriana must do this three times a day, as Sammy only goes half days M, T, T, F but on Wednesday, she gets a break and only has to do this twice since he goes a full day then.
Let us just say that my admiration for my daughter-in-law grows by the hour.
Joshua and Sammy attend a very nice all-male prep school. It is 2 1/2 miles from their house. Although Google Maps, which estimates 8 minutes from home to school, appears to show a more direct route, the route Adriana actually takes involves 14 turns, seven left turns and seven right turns.
Right turns are the more difficult ones here, and it is often that she must make that turn onto quite a busy road without the advantage of stoplights. All streets are amazingly narrow, at least to these American eyes. Many residential streets are two Texas sized lanes wide, with cars parked on both sides. They are also two way streets, so there is a constant dance of weaving in and out of parked cars so those coming in the opposite direction can get through. Much road courtesy here--people know that without cooperation, giving way whenever necessary, these crowded roads will soon shut down. On those residential streets, especially the very narrow ones, I work on staying calm as my passenger side rear-view mirror races by the driver side rear-view mirror often not more than one or two inches away.
As we approach the school, generally ten to eleven minutes after leaving the house, I can see Adriana get ready to play the parking game. There is no parking lot at the school, and although there is a drive through where parents can let their children off, most parents, particularly of the smaller children, (Sammy started before he was three), prefer to park and walk their child or children to the classroom.
The streets near the school have some carefully outlined parking spots--and not very many, for these streets are all residential, all houses with driveways to the street, and all houses very close together, so there is minimal curb space. Adriana's eagle eye will hone in on a possible spot, and she rapidly speeds up to see if she can grab it before the next parent gets it.
She must be parked precisely within the marked lines or she will get a ticket. These lines fit compact cars only. They drive a compact SUV, and there is only inches of play on all four sides for her. Just in case you are wondering, no Texas-sized truck would have a chance here.
We all tumble out, the boys looking absolutely adorable in their smart uniforms, and join the other parents in trying to get the children to their classrooms before the tardy bell rings. The small foyer opening to the classroom areas is packed with parents and little boys. We head for the nursery first, where Sammy grabs each of us, Mom, Granny, Brother, deposits a hearty kiss, and then politely greets his teacher and walks in. Then we wind our way back through the foyer into another narrow hall leading to three classrooms. It is packed with parents and the four and five year old boys, each needing to find the proper peg to hang his jacket on. The older boys wear maroon sports jackets with the school insignia on them over a maroon sweatshirt and white polo shirts (also with the school insignia) and dress gray flannel shorts with gray and maroon knee socks and black shoes. The jackets themselves must be carefully hung from the correct peg so they can be found later.
Again, kisses at the classroom, and Adriana and I make our way out, often stopped as the mothers and dads eagerly greet one another and often make plans for later in the today for each other and for their children. A multiplicity of languages is heard--this particular prep school seems to be a magnet for the many internationals who live here. I am guessing there is a parent and child from every continent in that crowded foyer each morning.
Then finally back to the car, and hope for no ticket because the police wander these streets constantly and ticket anything not in perfect compliance with the parking regulations. Four days a week, Adriana must do this three times a day, as Sammy only goes half days M, T, T, F but on Wednesday, she gets a break and only has to do this twice since he goes a full day then.
Let us just say that my admiration for my daughter-in-law grows by the hour.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
The "Do" and the "Be" Vacation
I have been extraordinarily lazy on this vacation. For years, as I have taken these generally yearly trips overseas, I have written a daily, or several times daily, journal so my mother, who simply could not travel, would be able to experience the trip with me. Since these travels were always to see family, I would often write about domestic issues, different ways of doing the most ordinary of things in such disparate places as Colombia, Australia, Canada, France, London, and even New York City. This was my special gift to her, to let her travel with me as I used our shared love of writing to give her as much of the experience as possible.
With her death this past September, I find that I re-live how very much I miss her when I think "Oh, I must tell her about this--she'd be fascinated!" And, she is not here to read my words. I no longer have the deep stabs of grief, just the general sense of missing her and knowing that this provided her so much pleasure. But it also means I have most definitely slacked off in my writing.
However, there is more to my laziness than just that. There are both "do" vacations and "be" vacations. We who live in the US, who are really more "human doings" than human beings, experience most of our vacations as "do" vacations. We have specified places we need to be at a certain time, certain things that we plan to do, sights to see, schedules to keep, all even on vacation. Nothing wrong with that, of course, except so often people come back from vacations even more fatigued and less refreshed than when they left.
This time in London has been for me a very much "be" vacation. As I was preparing for the trip, I had thoughts about wanting to see certain things and go to certain destinations. But after I arrived, and let the fatigue that has been dogging me for months have its full reign, I put down all plans. Although by habit, I have put on my watch each morning, I have not looked at it once. I have not turned on my phone except for an hour recently when I walked to a nearby store to pick up something for Adriana and needed to phone her when I couldn't find it, so no longer have it's ubiquitous time stamp looking at me multiple times a day when I would get a call or message or need to check email.
When it is time for Adriana to go pick up the children or take care of some shopping, I either go with her if I feel like it and am ready to walk out the door, or I don't. If I go, I enjoy it. If I don't, I sit in the quiet house and read and think or perhaps, should I feel expecially energetic, clean up the kitchen or take a walk in the nearby woods or on the wandering, pretty streets here. For my walks, I leave when I leave and I get back when I get back, and don't worry about it otherwise.
After a week here, my body clock, always slow to adjust fully to time changes, finally permitted me to fall into a sound sleep around last night 10:00 p.m. (4 p.m. Central Time). I woke at 3 a.m., very alert, and enjoyed a long, leisurely time of prayer before falling back into a restful three more hours of sleep, awaking to the sounds of the children playing and laughing--possibly the most joyous sounds ever made.
I have been in charge of so much for so long, that to be in charge of nothing, except to decide, "perhaps today would be a good day to wash a few clothes" is incredibly refreshing.
Tomorrow, (Friday), I know that Jonathan and Adriana must take Joshua to the US Embassy in London to have his passport renewed. Joshua turns five in just over a week, and the passport issued at his birth becomes invalid at that point. Unlike adults who only have to renew every 10 years, children, for good reason, must renew every five years. I'll probably go with them, just to experience London proper one more time, but also feel very free not to, should I wish.
And after a week of being fed only the most healthy and exquisitely prepared food, and with the resumption of long, leisurely walks, I have a sense of health returning. Great joy to be had here!
With her death this past September, I find that I re-live how very much I miss her when I think "Oh, I must tell her about this--she'd be fascinated!" And, she is not here to read my words. I no longer have the deep stabs of grief, just the general sense of missing her and knowing that this provided her so much pleasure. But it also means I have most definitely slacked off in my writing.
However, there is more to my laziness than just that. There are both "do" vacations and "be" vacations. We who live in the US, who are really more "human doings" than human beings, experience most of our vacations as "do" vacations. We have specified places we need to be at a certain time, certain things that we plan to do, sights to see, schedules to keep, all even on vacation. Nothing wrong with that, of course, except so often people come back from vacations even more fatigued and less refreshed than when they left.
This time in London has been for me a very much "be" vacation. As I was preparing for the trip, I had thoughts about wanting to see certain things and go to certain destinations. But after I arrived, and let the fatigue that has been dogging me for months have its full reign, I put down all plans. Although by habit, I have put on my watch each morning, I have not looked at it once. I have not turned on my phone except for an hour recently when I walked to a nearby store to pick up something for Adriana and needed to phone her when I couldn't find it, so no longer have it's ubiquitous time stamp looking at me multiple times a day when I would get a call or message or need to check email.
When it is time for Adriana to go pick up the children or take care of some shopping, I either go with her if I feel like it and am ready to walk out the door, or I don't. If I go, I enjoy it. If I don't, I sit in the quiet house and read and think or perhaps, should I feel expecially energetic, clean up the kitchen or take a walk in the nearby woods or on the wandering, pretty streets here. For my walks, I leave when I leave and I get back when I get back, and don't worry about it otherwise.
After a week here, my body clock, always slow to adjust fully to time changes, finally permitted me to fall into a sound sleep around last night 10:00 p.m. (4 p.m. Central Time). I woke at 3 a.m., very alert, and enjoyed a long, leisurely time of prayer before falling back into a restful three more hours of sleep, awaking to the sounds of the children playing and laughing--possibly the most joyous sounds ever made.
I have been in charge of so much for so long, that to be in charge of nothing, except to decide, "perhaps today would be a good day to wash a few clothes" is incredibly refreshing.
Tomorrow, (Friday), I know that Jonathan and Adriana must take Joshua to the US Embassy in London to have his passport renewed. Joshua turns five in just over a week, and the passport issued at his birth becomes invalid at that point. Unlike adults who only have to renew every 10 years, children, for good reason, must renew every five years. I'll probably go with them, just to experience London proper one more time, but also feel very free not to, should I wish.
And after a week of being fed only the most healthy and exquisitely prepared food, and with the resumption of long, leisurely walks, I have a sense of health returning. Great joy to be had here!
Monday, May 02, 2011
Turnabout is Fair Play
With the time difference (six hours ahead) and no live TV here so no news broadcasters to break into the one TV show Jonathan and Adriana occasionally watch, we didn't find out about the Bin Laden killing until about two hours ago, and only because I decided to check email this morning and saw the news post.
I am both relieved and troubled. This man's actions have caused enormous suffering in the world. Not just the destruction on US soil, but the aftermath, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the loss of so many lives and the growing crisis of confidence in this country. One man, surrounded by like-minded followers, who were willing to sacrifice their lives for their cause, changed the course of the world radically.
That same description could be used for Jesus. But Bin Laden was willing to send others to death while keeping his own life, while Jesus was willing to go to his own death so that others could live.
I admit it, I'm glad Bin Laden is dead. But I'm not so naive as to think that someone won't rise to take his place. Or multiple someones. We cannot eliminate evil by violence, no matter how necessary this violence probably was. I'm in total agreement that wickedness must be addressed but I think it is best addressed by transformation of life and soul and heart, not by murder, terrorism, and fear.
I come back to this little household in London. Saturday night, all four children spent the night at Adriana's sister's house so Jonathan and Adriana could celebrate their eighth anniversary of their introduction and so Granny, i.e., me, would not have the challenge of getting the little ones here to bed alone.
Last night, all four spent the night here so Ian and Rocio could have a late evening out. Today is a bank holiday in London, so schools are still out, so no problem if they got less sleep than usual. I woke this morning to the sounds of happy voices playing as the cousins do so enjoy each other's company.
Turnabout, fair play, we give and take, you give and take. It all works when the give and take is done with love and connection and hope. When the turnabout is you murder and then I murder, the end result is more murder. Neither cycle, either the one done in love and connection nor the one done in hatred and retribution, has a defined ending point. But both have defined effects, and both will transform the world, one for good and one for evil.
What we need are more peole who are like Bin Laden's disciples but instead of being willing to sacrifice their lives for evil are willing to lay down their lives for good.
I am both relieved and troubled. This man's actions have caused enormous suffering in the world. Not just the destruction on US soil, but the aftermath, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the loss of so many lives and the growing crisis of confidence in this country. One man, surrounded by like-minded followers, who were willing to sacrifice their lives for their cause, changed the course of the world radically.
That same description could be used for Jesus. But Bin Laden was willing to send others to death while keeping his own life, while Jesus was willing to go to his own death so that others could live.
I admit it, I'm glad Bin Laden is dead. But I'm not so naive as to think that someone won't rise to take his place. Or multiple someones. We cannot eliminate evil by violence, no matter how necessary this violence probably was. I'm in total agreement that wickedness must be addressed but I think it is best addressed by transformation of life and soul and heart, not by murder, terrorism, and fear.
I come back to this little household in London. Saturday night, all four children spent the night at Adriana's sister's house so Jonathan and Adriana could celebrate their eighth anniversary of their introduction and so Granny, i.e., me, would not have the challenge of getting the little ones here to bed alone.
Last night, all four spent the night here so Ian and Rocio could have a late evening out. Today is a bank holiday in London, so schools are still out, so no problem if they got less sleep than usual. I woke this morning to the sounds of happy voices playing as the cousins do so enjoy each other's company.
Turnabout, fair play, we give and take, you give and take. It all works when the give and take is done with love and connection and hope. When the turnabout is you murder and then I murder, the end result is more murder. Neither cycle, either the one done in love and connection nor the one done in hatred and retribution, has a defined ending point. But both have defined effects, and both will transform the world, one for good and one for evil.
What we need are more peole who are like Bin Laden's disciples but instead of being willing to sacrifice their lives for evil are willing to lay down their lives for good.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Men and Cooking
There were four adults sitting around the lunch table today. The two boys, Joshua and Sammy, were contentedly eating their lunch at the breakfast bar, but at the more formal table, Jonathan, Adriana and I were joined by Ian, Adriana's brother-in-law. One of the things I've learned on my visits here: when a meal is served, either at Adriana's house or at her sister, Rocio's, house (about .8 mile away), any member of the other family is welcome at any time. It's a wonderful arrangement as the two sisters often cook for each other making sure everyone gets properly fed at any time.
Anyway, we started talking about the meal in front of us and I commented on how few Americans (and Brits as well, according to Ian), eat this way. Jonathan snorted and said, "I don't see why. It only took 10 minutes to put the pork in the oven to roast this morning."
Adriana and I looked at each other and started laughing. In addition to a very nice piece of roasted pork, there was also a feast of vegetables of lightly steamed sweet and white potatoes, broccoli, green beans, and carrots and some freshly made guacamole. In addition, I had cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast (two eggs over easy with aged cheddar grated on them accompanied by sauteed mushrooms), making it possible for lunch to be prepared more quickly, and the table had been beautifully set. I would also do the after lunch kitchen clean-up duty, and that would include a the soaking and scouring of a very much encrusted pan in which the meat had so beautifully and deliciously roasted. There is so much more to preparing a good meal than putting the meat onto roast or on the grill, unfortunately.
As I've noted earlier, Jonathan and I have been having many conversations about our joint reading as we consider the connection between diet and health. When he first became acquainted with Colombian culture and family life when he and Adriana met, eight years ago, he saw a petite and very healthy group of people. Diet was fresh fish and fresh meat, fresh vegetables, rice, coffee, a small amount of bread, and massive amounts of fresh fruit.
He has always indulged her need to buy only the freshest and healthiest of foods, no matter what the cost--and it is costly, no doubt about it. But Adriana and the children simply glow with good health, straight teeth, and good energy. Nonetheless, Jonathan himself began to put on weight because he was traveling so much of the time, caught multiple colds and coughs, and despite the fact that he often trained for marathons and would bike an hour or more a day when possible.
About eight months ago, he adopted a completely different workout routine and at the most exercises for 10 high intensity minutes twice a week, sometimes less. And he changed his own eating patterns to what is called the "Paleo diet." It's high in meat and eggs, as many green vegetables as possible, olive oil as needed, fruit only in season (and never bananas or other extremely sweet fruits), minimal dairy, almost no grains of any kind, and something sweet on the rarest of occasions. He's now down to his high school grad weight, never eats anything served on an airplane except water (he often flies several thousand miles a week in his consulting work), is never seriously hungry even when having to go a long periods of time between finding food that is on this eating plan, and feels ever so much better.
We've also talked much about the aging process. There is some evidence, but very sketchy evidence, that people who do eat this way for a lifetime not only avoid the debilitating diseases of civilization (heart disease, type-2 diabetes, dementia, brittle bones) but tend to live vigorously until a short time before their deaths.
I know there is a growing bandwagon of support for this way of living. I also know how very complicated it is to change the way we eat. Everything in front of us tell us to eat just the opposite. But it could very well be that the opposite really is killing us slowly and miserably.
Anyway, we started talking about the meal in front of us and I commented on how few Americans (and Brits as well, according to Ian), eat this way. Jonathan snorted and said, "I don't see why. It only took 10 minutes to put the pork in the oven to roast this morning."
Adriana and I looked at each other and started laughing. In addition to a very nice piece of roasted pork, there was also a feast of vegetables of lightly steamed sweet and white potatoes, broccoli, green beans, and carrots and some freshly made guacamole. In addition, I had cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast (two eggs over easy with aged cheddar grated on them accompanied by sauteed mushrooms), making it possible for lunch to be prepared more quickly, and the table had been beautifully set. I would also do the after lunch kitchen clean-up duty, and that would include a the soaking and scouring of a very much encrusted pan in which the meat had so beautifully and deliciously roasted. There is so much more to preparing a good meal than putting the meat onto roast or on the grill, unfortunately.
As I've noted earlier, Jonathan and I have been having many conversations about our joint reading as we consider the connection between diet and health. When he first became acquainted with Colombian culture and family life when he and Adriana met, eight years ago, he saw a petite and very healthy group of people. Diet was fresh fish and fresh meat, fresh vegetables, rice, coffee, a small amount of bread, and massive amounts of fresh fruit.
He has always indulged her need to buy only the freshest and healthiest of foods, no matter what the cost--and it is costly, no doubt about it. But Adriana and the children simply glow with good health, straight teeth, and good energy. Nonetheless, Jonathan himself began to put on weight because he was traveling so much of the time, caught multiple colds and coughs, and despite the fact that he often trained for marathons and would bike an hour or more a day when possible.
About eight months ago, he adopted a completely different workout routine and at the most exercises for 10 high intensity minutes twice a week, sometimes less. And he changed his own eating patterns to what is called the "Paleo diet." It's high in meat and eggs, as many green vegetables as possible, olive oil as needed, fruit only in season (and never bananas or other extremely sweet fruits), minimal dairy, almost no grains of any kind, and something sweet on the rarest of occasions. He's now down to his high school grad weight, never eats anything served on an airplane except water (he often flies several thousand miles a week in his consulting work), is never seriously hungry even when having to go a long periods of time between finding food that is on this eating plan, and feels ever so much better.
We've also talked much about the aging process. There is some evidence, but very sketchy evidence, that people who do eat this way for a lifetime not only avoid the debilitating diseases of civilization (heart disease, type-2 diabetes, dementia, brittle bones) but tend to live vigorously until a short time before their deaths.
I know there is a growing bandwagon of support for this way of living. I also know how very complicated it is to change the way we eat. Everything in front of us tell us to eat just the opposite. But it could very well be that the opposite really is killing us slowly and miserably.
Greetings from the British Methodist Church
I prevailed upon Jonathan to help me find a Methodist church near here and to get me there in time for the morning worship service. He was going to attend with me, but then he suddenly got a bundle of urgent emails from work companions in a Middle Eastern country and realized he'd have to be answering email all during the service, so just dropped me off instead.
I walked in, was handed a songbook and bulletin by a friendly person, and told her, "I bring you greetings from the First UMC in Krum, Texas." She smiled delightedly, welcomed me again, and told me to make myself comfortable.
I found a seat about four rows from the front, and sat down. A moment later, a friendly woman stopped in front of my chair, proudly opened her jacket and displayed a T-shirt that displayed "TEXAS" in bright letters on it! She had been to Houston several times to visit friends and wanted to greet me. A few minutes later, the greeter herself seated herself right next to me, adding to the sense of welcome.
The service was very nice, with six songs interspersed with readings and short meditations. Today is "Thomas Sunday" in the British Methodist Church and the topic was the move from doubt (as in Doubting Thomas) to belief as in, "My Lord and My God."
The songbook had the words to hundreds of songs, but no notes, and most of the hymns were unfamiliar to me. Fortunately, my companion, Kay, had a beautiful voice and sang out with joy as did many others (about 80 in attendance, mostly but certainly not all, elderly), making it relatively easy to find the tune.
After worship and the dismissal, we all sat down for the postlude and began to chat a bit and then we're invited to "tea and biscuits" afterward. Kay asked what I wanted, and I said "black tea." I've learned quickly that otherwise my tea will be laced with milk.
Really blessed time. So, greetings, my Texas friends! I will miss you in worship but am also enjoying a lovely afternoon here after yet another extraordinarily healthy and perfectly cooked meal.
I walked in, was handed a songbook and bulletin by a friendly person, and told her, "I bring you greetings from the First UMC in Krum, Texas." She smiled delightedly, welcomed me again, and told me to make myself comfortable.
I found a seat about four rows from the front, and sat down. A moment later, a friendly woman stopped in front of my chair, proudly opened her jacket and displayed a T-shirt that displayed "TEXAS" in bright letters on it! She had been to Houston several times to visit friends and wanted to greet me. A few minutes later, the greeter herself seated herself right next to me, adding to the sense of welcome.
The service was very nice, with six songs interspersed with readings and short meditations. Today is "Thomas Sunday" in the British Methodist Church and the topic was the move from doubt (as in Doubting Thomas) to belief as in, "My Lord and My God."
The songbook had the words to hundreds of songs, but no notes, and most of the hymns were unfamiliar to me. Fortunately, my companion, Kay, had a beautiful voice and sang out with joy as did many others (about 80 in attendance, mostly but certainly not all, elderly), making it relatively easy to find the tune.
After worship and the dismissal, we all sat down for the postlude and began to chat a bit and then we're invited to "tea and biscuits" afterward. Kay asked what I wanted, and I said "black tea." I've learned quickly that otherwise my tea will be laced with milk.
Really blessed time. So, greetings, my Texas friends! I will miss you in worship but am also enjoying a lovely afternoon here after yet another extraordinarily healthy and perfectly cooked meal.
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