California Roll

Going No-where So Fast

Upon returning to my high-tech, urban area after a trip to Oklhahoma, I mentioned it to few people. Several implied that there's nothing there.

Not true. Oklahoma City is a huge city with the largest exhibit of Chihuly's glass sculptures and many more fascinating or beautiful options. We so easily and unconsciously entertain stereotyped ideas of other places. We have much to learn from other places, including Oklahoma.

Also few days after returning, on a visit to a grocery store, I pulled a cart out of its line-up and started turning around. A man, targeted like a missile, just missed me as he flew out of the store with his grocery treasures at 8 AM. An older man come out behind him drawled, "Why you all set on going nowhere so fast for nothing?"

Oklahoma's relaxed pace was a balm. People aren't in a rush. They speak slower and I love the drawl. A waitress where I bought a full but cheap breakfast (eggs, meat, biscuit and gravy) took time to smile and chat with me.

I've been back three weeks and I'm striving to no lapsing into the California rush. I remind myself often that accomplishing my list isn't what gives me worth, security or joy. I gaze at long-stemmed Easter lilies in my garden or the six feet tall shrub ablaze with crimson-pink blossoms. And I smell the roses.

Finding Meaning for the New Year

Lately my pastor Nancy Ortberg made a provocative statement that I've quoted at least three times nows. "In these days a person needs two conversions: the first to community; the second to Jesus." (Not exact, since I didn't write it down at the time.)

Nancy was not talking about a, "Let's meet at the coffee shop every Saturday morning and moan about the loan news and gripe about politics" kind of community. Nor just about the "Mothers Club" of my home city where moms can meet other mothers of young children and find play dates and chat about tips for handling diapers, vomiting and biting toddlers.

Those things are important relief for our loneliness and confusion, but we need more. We need community that will help bring change at our core. Community where together we shine a little light into this dark world.

Yesterday I spent time with a dear friend, a teacher whom I got to know when we both lived in Kobe, Japan. She's still teaching English, but now in SF and we find time to reunite once or twice a year.

On awakening this morning I thought of a story she told: of a fifty year old American with Japanese wife who died recently in child birth. She left him withe great gift of two baby girls, but he now he must cope with the combined grief and joy of single parenting. He must race between the four English teaching jobs he taken to survive in Tokyo while living the huge cultural conflicts inherent in being with his mother-in-law who kindly cares for the babes, I'm sure as she grieves both the death of her husband and only daughter in the past year she is not an easy person to be with. And every time the father looks into the faces of his baby girls, does he regret their decision to seek fertility treatment? See death in the face of the living?

Joy at birth, sadness at death and loss - it permeates our world. The quest for meaning and connection that drives the energetic young can turn into a life of just trying to survive economically or find distraction from depression as people age.

I wish for that Japanese widow and American widower the community I've experienced that's sustained me. Through being involved with genuine Christ-imitators (not the raging, homophobia fake kind you see on TV), I've found comfort, strength, and even sometimes joy in my own crises or stage of life issues (fending off depression and self-hatred as my teenagers do their perfectly normal thing of launching off and kicking me as they do so).

What a difference to have people I regularly see once a week who smile with warmth, who are glad to hear my hurts, share my tears and pray for me, and with whom I can work to change our corner of the world - like together provide a homemade dinner for the homeless, together fill a huge truck twice with canned goods to restock the depleted shelves of Second Harvest Food bank, or together help a depressed woman with a baby and three and five-year-old boys who's separated from her husband and fighting the affects of having been physically abused.

I couldn't do these things alone. Alone, I'd end up just spending time with
friends, shopping or reading books/watching movies. Alone, I'd feel overwhelmed or afraid of the confusion and despair that can come when I get involved with needy or manipulative people. But, by walking hand in hand with others committed to being a force for practical good, I can light a lamp into desperate dark places my corner of the world.

With commitment to regularly spiritual community I find strength to fight off
my own inner demons (of which I still have many) as well as to give to others at a cost but with joy.

Humility and the American Way

I've heard a number of Americans who understand a little bit about Asian reserve speka of it as a negative thing in specific situations. They see it as something that gets in the way of what's important. I'll dispute that here.

Asian reserve and the American atittude of, "Think highly of yourself. Be confident!" often collide in my church.

The church staff and lay leaders expect members who wish to lead or contribute in some other way to approach them and volunteer. This is not the Asian way.

The typical person born in Japan and China (and maybe Korea) will not step forward and say, "I can do that. I want to do that." Maybe in an indirect fashion, the person might--ie. talk to the person in charge and say, "I've lead music before." Reserve in this application is closely linked to humility. "I'm too young or someone else better than me should do this."

I've heard that humility/reserve called "false humility." Sometimes it may be, but, Americans, don't paint with such broad brush strokes.

My friend born in an Asian country recently responded to an announcement that the Cafe service (an informal venue with band for worship and teaching) needed worship leaders. She's had experience of leading worship and singing to congregations in a band with others associated with her home country. She sings great and I'd love to see her upfront.

My understanding from what she's told me is that when she talked to the staff person seeking worship leaders, she downplayed her abilities. "I can't read music well..." etc. Was this false humility? No, she really wasn't sure she was good enough.

In conversations together, I told her she was. I also explained that by first presenting her deficiencies to the staff person, he might think she really wasn't qualified because Americans of this age and the SF Bay Area's culture don't do that.

A typical American would say initially what his/her strong points were and what experience she brought to the situation. Probably only in actual tryouts or interview would s/he mention that sight reading was difficult for him/her. And note the phrasing:not "I can't sightread" as my friend had said; not the Am. phrase of "I can..." that downplays any deficiencies.

Was my friend pretending to be humble? Absolutely not! I know from repeated conversations with her that she really was afraid that she wasn't good enough.

Americans reading this may think, "TShe should have e better self-image. Be confident."

Beware that is not Jesus' message. He tells a story of a guest coming to a dinner party. Apparently in that culture, when you took a seat closer to the host, it meant you were a high status person. Jesus recommended that a guest take a lower seat and then the host might invite that person to move higher up.

Paul, another writer in the New Testament, does tell us that we should think of ourselves realistically -- not too highly and not too lowly. But doing that is difficult when your home culture has instilled in you the idea that you must be perfect or that it is a proud thing to do so.

Is pretending confidence or being apt to have confidence, even if unfounded, a good quality of typical Americans? I don't think so.

And, dear typical American, please don't tell Asians to change--that is too hard to do about this basic concept of reserve and humility. Just try to understand them and interpret their words in a different fashion than you'd interpret a person born in the Bay area who has had different concepts bored into them through home and school.

A New Kind of Christmas

On Friday morning I knew I'd be going to a Christmas party at a beautiful home that night. On the way home from tutoring English, the urge to drive in to Stanford shopping center almost overcame me. I wanted the newest fashion of holiday clothes--not my black top bought last year at Nordstrom's sale.

What kept me back was not the thinness of my wallet, but knowing that an hours spent shopping would keep me from writing my novel or having as much to give to people who needs basics, like groceries. These are truly hard times for many.

Saturday Collin delivered canned goods collected by MA highs school kids. I went on the first two of the six deliveries he made. When one woman opened her apartment I could see bunk beds in their living room. Probably six people in a tiny one-room apartment.

"God is always a giver" - one of the many outstanding points in the sermon by our pastor John Ortberg today. And when we give to others, God gives back. I needed to hear that.

You see, I'm tired. It's easy to believe the random thoughts like I've given too much and haven't spent enough time to people who can and will give back to me.

What I chose to give lies behind me and I was happy at the time of giving. I need to look ahead to what I can do in order to meet my own needs. I've scheduled a hike with a neighbor friend for Thursday--that's a way of planning for replenishment, a way that doesn't cost any money.

For Christmas our church is focusing on giving to those who truly need it, those who won't or can't pay us back. We learned that the 2nd Harvest Food Bank shelves are about empty, so for the next two Sundays we can bring goods to church and they will bring it to the food pantry. I'm going to make that opportunity known at the YMCA aerobics classes I attend and collect goods there.

I wrote a poem today and now I don't feel so tired. Weariness comes from emotions I haven't figured out, worked through, expressed to God. Writing the poem helped me do all that.

The Christmas season brings deep and complex emotions to me, but they needn't prevent me from giving.

A Grill, some dogs and wine spell fun!

Last night we had the great pleasure of hosting three young and energetic boys and a sweet six-year old girl, along with their Dutch parents. I'd met the mother, whom I'll call Jan, at a Tuesday morning moms group at my church.

I'd asked herlast Tuesday, "Has any American had you in their home yet?"

No. How sad, and that's after five months living here. No one born here had invited them into their homes - not even for a snack and play time for the kids. I couldn't let them return to Holland at the end of this year with such an inhospitable reception from Americans. So I asked, though it's the fourth weekend in a row we're spending energy on hospitality or relating to foreigners.

The experience was pure joy for my husband and 17-year-old as well as me. My teen said, "It's interesting to see the different way they parent." Was this Dutch culture? Or, just them, I don't know, but I, with my daughter, appreciated too this couple's willingness to let minor infractions go and give gentle, clear instruction. The kids were wonderful.

My husband said, "I really like the couple. They're sweet." And Collin's an introvert.

With so much going on lately, it was not a "good time" to have guests--but I did it anyways. Previously Jan had told me a story that helped me see hospitality didn't have to be such a big deal.

When Jan did a birthday part for her daughter, she invited the guests to help make the cake. So I knew Jan didn't expect things preparation done perfectly beforehand. When the family arrived yesterday, I invited the kids to scoop out cookie dough on the baking sheets. The adults drank wine and started to get to know each other. After a while, my husband started the grill and blackened some hot dogs. I set out cantalope, squash soup and condiments while the mom helped the kids get ready for our jacuzzi and clean up afterwards.

Yes, hospitality is not only obedience to what God asks of us, but fun!

Why We're Stressed

On my recent stay with friends who live in a suburb outside Philadelphia I was impressed with the number and depth of their friendships. I saw Christian community like I haven't seen since I was in college. We had dinner with their friends on Saturday night, a group of eight came to their home for Bible Study on Sunday night, and on Monday night three of the people in their study came over for dinner. Some gut wrenching sharing of deeply personal issues followed by prayer ensued after dinner.

Wow! They enjoyed relationships marked by authentic sharing, real listening, and prayer three nights in a row! Radical. Closest thing to the Acts 2 community I've seen among real adults, not the kind that live in dorms and can walk five minutes to reach a friend. I'd like to have that.

How did this happen? This couple both grew up in California and moved to Pennsylvania some twenty years ago. They tell me that in their area people don't like to drive far. They consider going to the next state, though it's just two hours away, a very long distance. Going into Philadelphia, a 30-minute drive, is also a big trip.

This couple's church draws people from their geographical community. Not like mine which has people from 30 miles north of it and 30 miles south and from across a bridge. We apparently don't consider driving a big deal.

In this couple's group is a single woman who lives down the street. Other members and friends are relatively close too. This helps people to have unstructured time together, conversation that wasn't first planned and entered into a day-timer. When living close we can run into someone in a store or bop down the street with a basket of freshly picked apples to share and then chat.

I learned tonight that most Americans live isolated lives, but aren't aware of it. We don't realize that the anxiety - rather low levels or high - and the depression we feel come from lack of community. Our health suffers from our lack of relationships and then we go jogging or go see a doctor rather than look for what we need. Much of our culture so prizes individuality and achievements that we think stress is something we get rid of by working on ourselves. It doesn't occur to us that we need relationships to help us thrive.

More on this later. I need to practice some community here at home. I came home thirty minutes ago from a conference on small groups and haven't done much more than greet, smile at, kiss and hug my husband.

Jesus at Home Depot

    I'm not nearly as good as I'd like to think I am.
     Yesterday I arrived at the San Carlos Home Depot at about 3 pm.  I usually avoid that store - I find it confusing and overwhelming. bit I was i search of good buys for our kitchen remodel.  And thought the point of my story is not this, I will say I did receive some good service from the kitchen department.
    I ended up staying there an hour longer than I I'd expected. When I got to the cashier lines at 4 pm I walked by a line with three people who each had many items in their carts only to the find the next three were closed and the following line was self-serve. I only do self-serve at the gas station.
    I turned my cart around to take a place in that long line and saw another woman approaching that line's end also. I triumphed - I got in position in front of her.
    After twenty minutes or so, a cashier came to open register just to the left. She asked, "Who's next?"  I asked the man in front of me if he'd like to go there. He shrugged. His turn was coming soon.
    The woman behind me who was close to the place opening up then said, "I can go in there" and looked at me for confirmation of her offer.
    "But I'm next. I should go in front."  At this point in the story  a cock should have crowed.
    "You cut in front of me in line," said the woman I'd beat to a place in line. Now her irritation showed.
    "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."  That's whet I wish I had said.  Instead, "If that's how you perceive it, then go ahead."
    She shook her head and frowned and I could see the wheels rolling and realized, for the first time, that this woman was from another culture, one where people take pride in being gentle and deferring to others. "Another rude, pushy American."  She didn't say it, she was too polite, just as she had politely let me beat her to the initial place in line.
    Jesus' words keep ringing in my mind about taking the lower place at a dinner, not seeking to be first. I let the values of my culture dictate: get it done fast!  get and grab all you can before someone else does! I was not representative of Jesus and his gentle ways.

Learning What I Need

    A certain forms of spirituality idealizes a solitary quest for God in the wilderness, in the silence and solemnity of the monastery.  I think of bullets I've read about the old medieval saints who'd spend weeks, months, alone and would extraordinary encounters with God and described it in the most beautiful spiritual writings, such as St. John of the Cross.
    Often God has met in alone times.  I consciously look for times to be away from home, in nature with God, so that I can connect to him in a deeper  or different way than when home with Bible, pen and notebook.
    Yet lately I feel it's hard to be alone.  Perhaps its because of this transition in life - children grown to ages 16 and 18 and living largely independent from me and home.  Perhaps because when I'm home alone for three hours and do feel the urge to talk to someone and call three phone numbers, I usually find no one at home.  Perhaps it's because I still feel at a largely unconscious level the loss of my mother and all that means as to growing old and facing death myself.
    Today God met me in the face of a child.
    Last week I went to see the baby of my neighbor. I'd asked Heather after her baby was a month old, if I could come see her infant. I asked by e-mail rather than knocking on the door or calling because I didn't want to wake anyone up.  I remember well how exhausted I was after a second child came and nap times for me became so rare.  She said she would contact me. Well six weeks passed before I heard from her and then she said, "Just call when you think of it."  So I did.
    Last Friday I went and delivered garden grown tangerines and admired both her two children.  She told me of a doctor's appointment to happen today.  I volunteered to watch her two (three?) year old while she took the baby.  So today I hung out with Ellen for and hour and a half.
    I loved it!  In contrast to when I used to watch Owen (my poet friend's son) at about that age, I continued enjoying it after the first hour.  Owen would counter pennies for an hour at at time and expect me to keep watching him. Ellen, on the other hand, puttered at her play kitchen, put on dress up clothes, and liked picture books.
    I also loved it because Ellen gave me so much wonderful facial feedback. Every time I smiled at her, she smiled at me. I watched her play with her kitchen outside and gave her ideas of what to make with the little lemons from their backyard tree-- lemon pudding, mouse, lemonade. I applauded her efforts to cook and pretended to eat what she served me.
     And oh the sweet joy of sharing the picture books I'd brought from my own children's library and light warmth of her petite frame on my lap.
    The give and take of smiles we gave each other sent to me the message that I was appreciated, liked, perhaps even delighted in for that moment.  I need that. That kind of simple affirmation will do From the heart of a toddler will do.  It's God's message to me.
    I miss that sometimes in the faces of my family, teachers and pastors.  Sometimes they are in a hurry, preoccupied, worried or some other reason. 
    Lately Collin has been following my counselor's advice to smile at me more.  It's very affirming for me.  Sometimes I ask him for a smile when he's forgotten.  I love it when he smiles -- his whole face lights up. 
    For me a genuine smile is a light from God.  A child's smile is enough for me.

What It Means to Meet

Last night we had a delightful dinner with a couple at our church  My friend said, "I could go
to that church (mine also) for years and never meet anyone." 

Her statement would shock most at my church.  Over and over they hear newcomers to the church community say, "How nice people are here!"  Or, "I tried it and stayed because of the community."

So what gives? Why is her perception so different?

This friend is from India, as is her husband. They both came to the US as teens and now they are in their middle years with teenagers.  What is considered as "being nice" or "meeting" for her is so different from the fleeting smiles and quick conversations that my majority white Americans at my church have to given them.

When my friend from a relational culture says "meet" she means,  "get to know." 

Hard for Anglo Americans to understand the need of those from relational cultures to sit down and talk.

One of my pastors, who is very relationally oriented, visited one of our Cafes for Internationals. I and a team from my church were hosting these the  last two years.  We included in our Cafe night over an hour of time for building relationships, first over dinner and then in discussing questions put forth by the speaker.  When my pastor who visited had helped formed a group similarly formatted with dinner and speaker, only twenty minutes were allowed to eat and then 15-20 for discussion - the rest was content. So she was shocked to hear that some said that our Cafes didn't allow people to  get to know one another, that we needed to interact in a different venue.

I heard speak on public radio once a guru from India who was visiting the US. He pleaded with people to sit down and talk over a cup of tea. 

Good idea. But who will initiate? 

Next blog on this.

Escaping Hurry Sickness

I live in the San Francisco bay area where most people, especially those with education, credentials, or money, are in a hurry. The culture of individualism colludes with materialism, making reaching for my self-set goals seem like the highest priority. 

On Sunday morning John Ortberg's message challenged this with his diagnosis of the "hurry sickness" - a condition of the heart, distinct from being busy. (found on www.MPPCfamily.org). I've been pondering the principles John gave.

On Wednesday I was anticipating the housekeeper "Maria" coming.  She likes to talk and she's a pleasant person whom I enjoyed talking with. But I was feeling quite pressed for time since I hadn't been able to keep my goals for my novel the previous two days and resolved to not elicit conversation,as I had done the last time she came. Then I thought of Sunday's sermon and the "hurry sickness" and decided I would make eye contact and ask her how she was.

I did that and she unloaded a story of how her newly adopted foster child, Desdee, doesn't want to go to school because a girl there her age  has said, "I don't like you" (her words for the envy she feels of the new clothes Desdee wears, gifts from one of the clients of Maria).

Maria was quite upset and had no idea what to do. She had already tried telling the other child that she was beautiful and tried talking her own child out of her feelings. I prayed silently and then asked Maria if she'd be willing to give some of Desdee's clothes to her jealous friend.  "Sure!" Then, ask Desdee is she's willing go, then talk to the mother of the other child about it and explain that all the beautiful clothes are gifts, and then ask the mother and her child over to you home for them to pick out a few.

Maria was elated and so was I.  Much better than getting one more page edited.