The Front Row
I'm goin' for the front row.
Stepping Into The Waters
The puppies are supposed to go back on Thursday. I was asked to watch them for 12 days, and due to their illness (and therefore unfitness for adoption) they missed the "super adoption day" at the Humane Society, and as a consequence, we've had them for six weeks today.
Around week three, we started contemplating keeping one of them. But one puppy is hard to manage and so then we pondered keeping two. Some days that seemed right – they are so sweet and responsive. Other days though, it seemed like something hard. I have spent a lot of time with them; training them, caring for them, just being with them. I'm quite attached. Yet I kept asking myself, "What could that time be invested in instead?"
Around the beginning of this week, I began to feel pretty weary. (At week 5 we agreed – only one dog). Mid-way through this week, I was really seeking God about this little dog. God whispered, What do you want to do?. It's true, we could give him a fantastic home. He loves running across the acres and he enjoys all the other animals. He would have a great life. No, what do you want?
I want to be a writer. I want to finish painting my barn. I want to visit my daughter in Seattle. I need to finish a water line project that has dragged on all summer. I want to do a better job of encouraging my friends and hearing from God more. Honestly, I don't want a puppy right now.
As soon as I leveled with myself, I realized how much I really don't want another responsibility. And when I told the Humane Society rep this and I made arrangements for them to go back on Thursday for their next adoption event, I realize I feel relief. It's like something inside me is saying, "I can make it until Thursday."
I didn't realize until I stepped into the waters of a "no" …
How tired I was. How ready I am to have it over. How close I was to making a wrong decision.
How just because I can meet a need and do a great job and really make a difference in someone else's life … that doesn't necessarily mean that I am supposed to do it.
Sometimes someone else is supposed to jump in and fill in that gap.
Energy
Several weeks ago, I ran across some interesting information about how high level executives conserve energy; namely so that they can pour their impetus into the things that they value most. Several of the tips were intuitive (like limiting time on e-mail, doing your most difficult task of the day first, etc). But a couple were not an "oh that makes sense" idea until I actually read them and thought about it.
One of them: Wear the same outfit, so that you don't have to make any decisions about what to wear each day. Wow. I have said this for YEARS. The article listed several notables (whom I wish I could remember) – the one that sticks out is Steve Jobs – with his signature blue jeans and black turtleneck … I heard he had thirty of each in his closet.
It is true, that standing-in-front-of-the-closet energy expenditure doesn't really seem worth it. I wish I had the chutzpa to actually do this instead of just wishing to. (I will say that none of the famous big-wigs were women … I don't know if we can actually get away with this. However, I do own 5 pairs of the same jeans … lest you all think I am just wearing the same pair over and over! And by this, I have reduced my clothes-choosing energy by 30%!)
The other energy-drain reducer was to eat a very limited diet of similar foods. Again, choices take effort. (Generally, I tend to do this at restaurants – order the same thing once I find something I like – but I suspect this is more about fearing disappointment, rather than energy conservation!).
The thing I appreciate about both these ideologies / methodologies is that, like an ultra-light backpacker, shaving off ounces here and there, these people are so incredibly intentional as to why they do what they do. They recognize that they are a limited commodity and they want to spend themselves on something they value.
And that, I can hold.
Why
Many of us are clear about what we do; less are as cognizant of how we do it. And fewer still … why we do what we do. I am continually impressed that I need to be clearer about my 'why.'
Not too long ago, I asked a friend recently what she thought the ongoing theme of my blogposts were … that is how unclear I am. Yet, if I really think about it, all of my efforts toward intentionality seem to end up in the same place: freedom.
Freedom in your relationships. With God. With others. With your planet. With yourself.
Those who are free are at liberty to give of themselves. Wholeheartedly, unreservedly, without guilt, angst, compulsion. Because they know why they do what they do. And they are passionate about it.
[This idea of What, How, Why comes from Simon Sinek … In one of my favorite TED talks, Simon Sinek demonstrates the difference between just lobbing information at people and actually inspiring them. I have watched this several times and each time, I think my "why" needs refining. (He also has authored two books, Start With Why and Leaders Eat Last).
Simon was featured on a podcast, where he spoke primarily about leadership – it's worth listening to, for sure.]
Nakedness
I have spent a glorious few hours revisiting a couple of my favorite books – an obscure series written years ago by Penelope Wilcock – The Hawk and The Dove, The Wounds of God, and The Long Fall.
Two observations:
A) Initially, the author utilized a now / then format – a young girl asking her mother to tell her stories, and then the stories themselves, which took place in midevil England in a Benedictine monestary. While the 'now' sections were fine, my real interest lay in the ancient stories … By the time book three came about, somehow the author realized most people felt similarly drawn to the ancient parts, and she abandoned the modern story line – the last book is entirely about the monastic community. And, while on first mention, this all might sound dull … her development of characters is really quite good. I always weep when one of my favorite monks dies, and I miss the whole community after I finish the series.
My point here is this: you get wiser as you go on (hopefully) and you make adjustments. You change the original plan. You flex. You change. You grow. This takes a certain amount of naked humility to say, "I was wrong. There is a better way to go about this."
B) The last book in the series deals with one of the members who has a stroke which leaves him helpless and unable to speak. The pains that he takes to make himself understood and the love with which his community tries to serve him – it is mind boggling. This is not sanitized writing - the brothers have short tempers and get irritated and tired and whiney, just as you or I would. But the difference is that, because they are all a family, of sorts, and they have taken an oath of humility, there is a lot of heartfelt apologizing for bad behavior and resolving of grievances. There is also plenty of insincere asking for forgiveness too – because it is required by The Rule. Wilcock's writing does a great job of capturing the difference. And it illustrates very clearly: true love does cover a multitude of sins.
Beyond this, the book captures the indignities of being cared for. As well as the uncomfortableness of caring for the other. As humans, we keep a polite distance from one another with our pride and our self-sufficiency. When one needs another, whether physically or emotionally, those walls start to crumble; it requires extreme delicate insight on both parties to preserve the dignity and well-being of both. Nakedness, in a non-sexual context, is a fearsome thing. (Why do people hate their annual physicals? Or going to a therapist, at least initially – being naked infront of someone who is dressed creates intense vulnerability). It is equally distressing to be the one clothed. You have to practice to overcome the discomfort. Yet to adequately care for the infirm (whether physical or emotional), both are required to face that fear.
The point in all this is that it seems that in the ministering to the needs of others, without shame, giving them their dignity, we do, in fact, at times, see the face of God.
Clinging
I ran across this quote today; it fairly leaped out of the page:
'Cling to me now, my God, for I have lost the will to cling to you.'
In every person's life, there are seasons when this is the case. Where we are too weary to hold on any longer. The thing I find remarkable is not that we find ourselves in situations where we have lost the impetus to clutch for the Divine, but that in all His Soverien Majesty, the God of the Universe chooses to cling to us.
(John 10:28-29 (Jesus speaking) I give them (those who believe) eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all[a]; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.)
I need to know this today. Because my grasp is weak. Just grateful his is unrelentingly secure.