California Roll

When Too Much IS Good

    I inherited an apricot tree.  When I was young that tree (actually its predecessor) was a symbol of forced labor. It meant summer mornings spent in a steamy hot kitchen with a cranky, demanding mother as we rubbed apricots clean and cut out brown rot or bird holes and added sugar and made jam.
    Now I have a love-hate relationship with that tree.  Its branches reach above the roof and span some thirty feet in width. Its glorious with the peach and red small globes amid the fan-like, bright leaves. Its luscious sweet fruit has spoiled me so that any bought apricots - even when purchased at a farmers market  - strike me as mealy or tasteless. But that's only the love part.
    The hate part is the thirty to forty hours I have spent most every summer picking apricots, sorting them once at home, carting them and distributing them to others or making jam. It's lonely work that requires me to labor at 8 or 9 in the morning or after dinner to avoid heat.It prevents me from doing things I love and think are more eternally significant - like writing,  praying or teaching people.
    I haad thought there would be fewer aps this summer - after all we cut off a major branch that was diseased and I pulled off many small green ones in the spring ("thinned" it).  But no, the precious fruit still clung to branches all over, in many places clustered close as grapes on a vine.
    After I picked with my daughter Jenny on Sunday, I came away with heavy baskets and a heavy heart. "I don't have time to deal with this now, what with being unable to use my kitchen-in-renovation and my novel waiting." I felt so tired and tired to being tired.
    I prayed. "Help,God! Show me who can help me with this."
    God is so good. Yumi came to mind. She's told me before that she loves picking fruit. She used to pick persimmons from the trees at her home when a child.  I asked her availability and though she's quite busy what with working FT and kids and chairing an event for July 4, she still said yes.  She suggested a common friend to invite and that brought yet another person to mind.
    So last night the four of us descended on the tree. What would have take me another six trips and fifteen hours of time took me only three hours with their help.  Plus, I had made a decision to "clear-cut" - to take every apricot in a given area whether it had become soft or not. They can soften up at home, and firm-ripe aps are so much easier to deal with.
    I saw one of my friends enter out picking time with a heavy heart but come out smiling. The other two friends exclaimed how fun it was - even the one for whom it was her first time to  pick any kind of fruit whatsoever.
    What happened?  God's spirit came. He created precious community and appreciation of the good gifts he's given us. I had prayed in solitude before we gathered for God to use this time. We all prayed at the end of our picking for the event we'll put on this Friday.
    These women are all Christian leaders, struggling with the brokenness in their own lives, yet still wanting to serve others.  As I told them while we picked, this tree is a great metaphor.  It's diseased - sap flows out of some sick branches, leaves have withered and limbs need to be cut. Insects are also leaving their marks. Yet. it produces sweet, healthy fruit.  God can still make something sweet and beneficial through us even though sin's disease leaves marks on us.

    Would I have looked for and made community happen last night without the pressure of that tree?  No. Would I have sought out these particular people if I wasn't striving to serve God?  No.  The too much of the good thing became an impetus to do something unnatural but very, very good.

Finding Reason To Celebrate

    My 53rd birthday is over, but I'm still celebrating.
    I took the day off from my normal work yesterday and savored a two hour block of time spent with just my journal, pen, Bible and God.  I did a lot of listening. I let God inject into my blood streams messages of his love for me, his grace in the places of my failure, that I'm all too aware of. Familiar passages from Scripture surfaced and I ran through them in my mind, sometimes said them quietly out loud.
    In my forest glade only the birds could hear my speaking and singing.  I pondered the bird hopping and pecking just two feet from me and hear the lovely twittering in the treetops.  Its brown head and white collar over a gray body were a new combination for me. God knows where that birds is and what he's doing.  Much more does he know me.
    There's great comfort in being noticed.  One of my trigger points with people is not being noticed. I grow angry when I'm in a group with a few louder people leading and not seeing that I or another quiet person have something we wish to say.
     My anger is not good. I ask God for deliverance from that. I'm hoping that as I think more on God's notice of me, I will not be so bothered by this world of people who have much to say, but don't notice me. I can't make people change. I can either accept them as they are, move on, or learn to deal with their ways of being with people.
    I wish that I would always consult God before I speak. So many times I wish I could pull back the words I've said. Words reflect what's in my heart. So to change my words, I need to change my heart first. Only God can do that.
    I want to live in consciousness of His love. That's my prayer. I can do more of that with the spiritual disciplines of solitude, meditation and prayer.  That's my real reason for celebration.

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.

Faitlure Is Still Progress

At a recent small group meeting I contested a decision being made because the group dynamics really disturbed me. Afterwards I felt embarrassed and ashamed about speaking out, especially regretful that I didn't express myself in a smooth, diplomatic way. My irritation was showing.

And, my reflex reaction to that is a fear, an irrational fear these friends will stop wanting to be around me.

Not true, but feelings have lingered since  the situation touched off some of my “hot buttons” - i.e. long standing core issues related to my experiences of as a young child. 

On a long car drive to retrieve my daughter from her boarding school, I pondered what I heard our speaker say about God's love at our Tuesday mother's group. She reminded us of how we've felt with our baby – how we enjoy just watching our little one learn to crawl, or eat baby food even though the gruel is dripping down the baby's chin.

We don't say to our babies, “Oh, how gross. You're doing it all wrong. Why can't you learn to eat right faster!”  No, we say, “Oh, how cute. Look, she's learning to eat!” We applaud the little progresses forward and accept, even overlook, the falls, the food on the nose and other mistakes as the baby is progressing these new developmental tasks.

I too am learning new skills.  I'm learning to not shrink back from powerful, charimatic personalities and to say what I want.  From my history of withdrawal when I'm hurt and angry, what I did last night was an important step forward. 

Yes, I wish I could have been more gentle and said it better, but I think God is applauding what I did do.

Acrobatic Balance

Shanghai Circus                                                                                                                                            Honolulu, HI
   (written January 21)

She stands on stage and though she's slender and a bright pink halter bra bares her midriff, our eyes, full of wonder and suspense, focus on her head and above.  More exactly, we're fascinated by her nose.

From it a slender plastic tube rises up to a platter in the air.  On it she balances two goblets, then two more and two more. Two beautiful women keep handing one more to each of her two hands, stretched out at either side.

After wavering and teetering, she balances a vase of flowers on center above three stories of goblets set on platters. We think she will stop. She does not.  One more and one more until there's some thirty on atop.  All the while some thousands of pairs of eyes are on her, willing her to succeed.

Amazed at what she dares, I  flash on what I've failed to attempt for fear I cannot balance.  Suddenly I know it's okay to try – an audience is rooting for me.  Breath drawn in, watching, they're happy just if I take one more goblet and lift it up.  Whether those who focus on me are friends or angels, I know their hearts cheer me on.

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.

A Root of My Anxiety

    When i first awaken my thoughts, or my dreams, reveal much about my unconscious, about what's  underneath my activity and desires.  Lately through my waking thoughts I've realized how much anxiety I have about how I perform in relationships.  I find myself looking back on conversations and thinking about what I did right, what I did wrong, what I could have done better.
    Yes, I do learn from that exercise, but it reveals anxiety.  I'm anxious because, in my unconscious, is the belief that if I perform well enough I can hold on to relationships, ensure that there will always be the kind of connection I need.
    At the women's conference this weekend our speaker made a profound comment, "If you take the risk to love on this earth you will fail."  Implicit in taking on the essential challenge to be involved with people, to try to love, is the willingness to fail. No matter how had I try, how much learn, or pray, I'll never do it perfectly.
     I'd like to be saying this one liner prayer throughout the day: "Lord be merciful to me, a sinner."
    Being a sinner includes my trying to control relationships by doing everything right. Receiving mercy means receiving affection and connection I didn't earn. If I can comprehend that fully, in my unconscious as well as in my knowledge, anxiety about performing perfectly will dissipate.
    Lord, please deliver me from this delusion that I can determine how much affection and esteem I receive through my performance.  You,  you alone, are my solid rock.  You, you alone, are my deliverer.

Restless

    This morning I awakened with a vague restlessness. I've recited portions of the Bible to myself, prayed by myself and prayed with Colin. Then I picked up a book whIch was was just what I needed. I want to share more great quotes from that book, one I cited in my blog yesterday, The Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser.
    "To understand our sexuality and to live with its unfulfilled tensions, it can be most helpful simply to understand this. In loving, the ultimate wound is not to be able to marry everyone.  The greatest human hunger, felt in every cell in our being, is that we cannot be completely united with everyone and everything." (p. 206)
     I feel the pain of separation from my teenage daughters - physically here with me, but not emotionally with me as when they were young. In this holiday season I've longed to be with so many dear friends from the past or my family.  I can't.   
    After all the Apostle Paul teaches us in the first chapter of Ephesians that the destiny of God's children is to come all together under the authority of Christ.  So of course while we are on earth we will be aching for this future outcome - to be all united.  In these words I find courage and meaning in the ache.
    Before Christ comes again, this longing is part of our life here. I often think that if I just had more friends or more time with friends or a better kind of friend, I wouldn't feel this sense of longing at times. No.  The longing is meant to drive me towards God, towards solitude which helps me encounter the presence of God. Henri Nouwen has written about how we move towards "restful solitude."  Here are four steps, again from Rolheiser's book, summarized from Nouwen's, Reaching Out -- the Three Movement of the Spiritual Life.

    1. "Own your pain and incompleteness"  -  i.e. nothing in this life will every fully complete us
    2. "Give up false messianic expectations" - i.e. the hope that somewhere, sometime, the right person or
                            situation or combination of the two will bring complete and steady happiness.
    3.  "Go inward" - go against our natural tendency towards activity to soothe the ache within.  Instead sit
                          still long enough to encounter God and let him change "restfulness to restlessness, 
                          compulsion to freedom ...heartache to empathy."   
    4.  "It is a movement that is never made once and for all"

    These are ideas that I need to keep returning to.  On Saturday Collin and I plan to take a couple of hours away from doing, away from the house and its tasks, turn off our cell phones, and draw close to God.  I have many decisions to make about what to give myself to in the coming year.  I hope to sense
how God is leading me and from that, what to say "no" to, what to say "yes" to.

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.

Accepting the Tides

    My emotions are raw now.  I tear up easily, over things that wouldn't usually bring such hurt or anger to the surface.  Hearing that such is normal during times of transition, from a psychologist on the radio yesterday, comforted me.
    Also these words from Ann Morrow Lindbergh strengthened me to do what seemed so scary at the time - go to a women's group of 300 plus women - and to accept these transitions of life (see previous blog for specifics.) Here are Ann's words from her classic book, "Gift from the Sea," with some paragraphing added by me:
    "The "veritable life" of our emotions and our relationships also is intermittent.  When you love someone you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment.  It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to.  And yet this is exactly what most of demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it Will never return.   We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity -- in freedom, in the sense that dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.
    The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was in nostalgia, nor forward to what  might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.  For relationships, too, must be like islands.  One must accept for what they are here and now, within their limits -- island, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, continually visited and abandoned by the tides.  One must accept the security of the winged life, of ebb and flow, of intermittency."

The last two paraagarphs are all by Ann M. Lindbergh.  I high recommend her whole book.