Fruitful Contemplations: Joy

Mangosteens, which I think best represent joy, especially when they're cold and you're hot

But the fruit of the Spirit is ... joy.  Gal. 5:22

It's been more than a week since I wrote about Love as the fruit of living in the Spirit. The time has been spent in busyness, but it's also been spent thinking about Joy as the fruit of living in the Spirit of God.

Joy is defined in Merriam-Webster as "the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires: delight."  Dictionary.com provides a few other definitions; one I like is "a source or cause of keen pleasure or delight; something or someone greatly valued or appreciated."

What does joy feel like, look like? I think that is different for each individual, but in all cases it's pleasurable.  

I tried this week to remember times when I consciously felt great joy in my life. Not just daily joy, but great joy. From the last 10 years, three times came to mind. One was my wedding day when I married Husband in the presence and friendship of over 400 friends and family members. That was joy, because I was marking the official beginning of the rest of life with the man I love. But it was also joy because I don't think I've ever had that many people who were dear to me all in one place at the same time! A quieter joy, but also a great joy, carved its bright corner my memory the day Older Stepdaughter and I were out walking her new baby and she told me how much she was enjoying the just-her-and-me time during my visit. And another joyful memory, oddly enough, was the time Younger Stepdaughter sat and cried with me when I was feeling blue. I won't even try to explain that one; either you get it, or you don't.

When have you experienced great joy in your life?  Have you tried to pinpoint those memories? What makes them precious? Are there any commonalities among the times that come to mind?  What are those themes?

Reflecting on all the times I experienced great joy in my life, I realized every single time was a moment when someone I cared about told me in some significant way that I had been granted my own special spot in their heart. Each time the joy felt like it overflowed right back to that "someone," and even beyond to other people nearby. I ended up with sparkly eyes, a feeling of well-being in the soul, a deep contentment in my middle.  

So imagine this:  You can see the Spirit of God as a being. The image I like best, and have imagined ever since reading the book, is the one described in The Shack. I like imagining the Spirit of God as an ethereal, wispy, gentle and loving Asian woman who comes and goes like the breeze.  The Spirit of God assures me in significant ways that I have been granted my own special spot in God's heart. Each time I perceive that message, each time I'm reminded in one of the billions of ways the Spirit uses to remind us, my joy bubbles up and overflows right back to God, and even beyond to people nearby.  I end up with sparkly eyes, a feeling of well-being in my soul, a deep contentment in my middle.

That's Joy!

Fruitful Contemplations: Love

The representation for love has to be a sweet mango.  There just isn't any better fruit in the world, right Pedrito?

Tremors practically set in when I consider writing about Love as a fruit of living in the Spirit.  What can I say about a topic that is so high, deep and wide that it fills the entire universe?  God is Love, and God is everywhere. You could talk all your life about love, examine it, explore it, live around it, express it, marinate in it (oh, wouldn't that be nice?), give it, receive it, and you still wouldn't be done. So what can I say about it here in a short blog post?

I've been thinking about that.

What first occurred to me, in considering which spectacles to peer through at Love, was to look at what it isn't.  It's kind of like looking at an unfamiliar bird and saying, "Well, it's not a woodpecker. It's not an ostrich. It's not a robin, it's not a gull or a pelican or a sparrow or a duck."  Naming enough things that it's not, can be somewhat helpful in speculating as to what it is.  So let me take a famous descriptor of love (the "what it is" which we're all used to) and turn it around so that our mental sensibilities are heightened by the topsy-turvy wording.

The description of "Not love" is pretty ugly: it is impatient, unkind, envious, boastful and proud. "Not love" is rude, self-seeking, short tempered, and keeps a list of every wrong you have done to it.  "Not love" delights in evil and grinds its teeth in frustration when confronted by the truth.  "Not love" leaves you out there to be hurt, is distrustful, refuses to see hope in a situation, and gives up at the slightest sign of hardship. "Not love" fails, even when it's supposed to be there forever, even when it has made promises to always be there.

Well.  That last paragraph brought to mind specific people's names, including mine, as I read some of the descriptors.  I know what "not love" looks like, feels like, acts like, both from the giving end and the receiving end.

But that's not all, I know what the "Love is" list looks like, too, from the giving end and receiving end:  patient, kind, not envious, not boastful, not proud, not rude, unselfish, long-suffering, forgiving, delighting in good and loving the truth.  Protective, trusting, hoping, persevering, and staying by through thick and thin.  That list also brings to mind people's names, including mine.

I think of it this way:  the Spirit is like the wind. You can't see where it goes. You hear it, but you don't know where it's coming from or what the shape of it is. Similarly, living in the Spirit is experienced by most of us, in some way. I think so, anyhow. And that's why we all know on an experiential level what Love is, and what Love isn't.  Someone has written it into our hearts, even when our hearts are kind of sandy and the message tends to blow away.

It seems like some people do more living in the Spirit than the rest of us, though.

I stopped to think about who I would consider the most loving person I know in the whole entire world, and I thought, and I thought. I intended to write an anecdote here about that person, whoever it would be. But I think it's better to invite you to consider who you have found to be the most loving person in the entire world (based on the 1 Corinthians 13 descriptors).  I'd like to hear about that person in your comments, and why they came to mind for you.

Wouldn't it be nice for your name to come to mind for someone else pondering that question? Choose daily to live in the Spirit and to see each person through the glasses of Love.  At least, I suspect that's a start.

Fruitful Contemplations: An Intro

I probably don't know what I'm getting myself into. But I've been thinking about fruit of the spirit, lately.  And when I start thinking about something, I want to write about it as a way of exploring my thoughts.  So here's the start of my thinking, and we'll see how far I can get in this list. I may abandon it, or I might come out the far end with some new insights. In any case, it's worth starting the adventure.

Just to remind you and me, here's the passage I'm contemplating, found in Galatians 5:22-23:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Against such things there is no law.

As I look at this list, some context is in order. The apostle Paul had just finished advising the Galatians to live by the spirit and not gratify the desires of sinful nature. Then he took time to outline what those sinful acts look like:  sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissension, factions, envy, drunkenness, orgies ... and the like.  It's quite a list, kind of reminding me of a bucket of snakes.  Ugh.  And a few of those items are things that I know personally on some level.  Ugh again.

So we have all this icky-ness that comes when we live to please ourselves.  And then Paul lists what spiritual acts (i.e. living in the Spirit) look like. It's list that I will always see in my mind's eye the way my elementary school teacher taught them to us:  each word listed over a felt representation of a fruit, put up on the board one at a time as she talked about the fruit of the spirit.

Nice. But now I'm a grownup and this fruit is no longer representative fruit on a felt board. Instead, it's a checklist of outcomes that are challenging, a way of assessing whether I'm living in the Spirit or not. Now I squirm. I squirm because it feels like the older I get, the fewer of these fruit I see hanging on the limbs of my life's tree.

I once tried to sit and meditate daily on these verses, hoping that they would work their way into my soul and become a reality in my life.  I'd sit on my flowered couch where I had worship and think about Love, saying it over and over in my mind and trying to experience it until I felt love in my soul.  Then I'd add Joy to that, meditating and imagining joy until I was feeling joyfully loving.  And then I'd try to infuse that with Peace, and so on. Each time when I reached the end of the list I was in a muddle of feelings, not knowing which was what, but hoping the "fruit" had all mixed themselves together into a cocktail that would make my life "good" for the day.

Well, it's time to go deeper. It's time to examine these one at a time and try to understand them in more than a magical, mythical emotion-wrought way.  I hope it will be a good experiment.  I hope you'll "taste" along with me and find something of worth.  See you back here soon.

Music Recommendation: Audrey Assad

I just happened across the music of Audrey Assad today. Absolutely marvelous!  Both the lyrics (which I am picky about) and the music are deep and delightful.  Take a look at a sample here and here, and enjoy.

When "No" is Kind

In a meeting last winter which I attended, a student leader representing the student associations of all twelve or so of the colleges and universities in our affiliated group made a presentation. He requested $75,000 to buy software to make a specially customized version of Facebook that would tie the students of the affiliation together.  "Community and connectedness," he argued, "are the most important thing."

I highly respect student leadership on our own campus, student leadership which tends to do a pretty good job of prioritizing with common sense the goals they wish to accomplish. This one had me baffled. Paying big dollars for a customized Facebook for twelve fairly small higher education institutions?

I was even more baffled as I watched leaders of our institutions discuss the request in front of the student who had come to present it. They were all very polite, seeming to take the request seriously, some very gently questioning it but no one saying (in the tradition of one of our excellent professors), "This is not your best hour; go back and try again. Focus on the missions of your schools and what will really make a difference in the world. Think more deeply." One of the presidents eventually made a motion that we refer the request out to the executive committee of the group "for closer study." And the motion was voted through.

I couldn't believe it. That's the kiss of death! It's a "nice" way to kill a request, referring it out to a committee for a governing body that only meets once a year. In another year there will be a different student representative, and the request will be forgotten because students move through leadership positions yearly.  How convenient! And ultimately, how unkind it was. The student (and those back home who helped prepare the proposal) learned nothing. Nothing at all. They were nicely snubbed.

Are we just too chicken to say "No" to someone?  How does that help them?

I believe we've bought into the social myth that saying "No" is unkind. I would argue that saying "No" is kind. "No" is educational. Saying "No" is what the world is going to do to people. No, you cannot bear the kind of debt you're taking on. No, you can't eat a high fat diet for years and not clog up your arteries. No, you cannot drive 80 miles an hour on the freeway and assume you won't get a ticket. No, you cannot forget to water your garden and have it stay alive. No, you can't treat your children badly and expect them not to return ill will to you.  Why are we fooling ourselves? There are all kinds of "No" in this world.

"No" may just be kind in situations where it feels painful. I once watched a teacher get the news that her request for promotion was denied. She cried, and went through a brief period of argument and blaming others. That's understandable. And then she bucked up and said, "I'll do what I need to do."  This teacher is going from being okay to being excellent at what she does, and will get there in a shorter time. In holding a high standard and saying "No," the review committee was kinder to the teacher, and kinder to her students, than if they'd given her the impression that her performance was excellent.

People are more resilient than we give them credit for. People will meet a higher standard if we'll bother to set it for them. People who catch on to the wisdom of such a thing will appreciate it when a "No" leads to better thinking, stronger teaching, smarter learning, and all those rewards that we receive when we are required to put in more effort and are accordingly recognized for it.

We who have the power and position to say "No" would do well to consider having the courage to say it when we know it will make the world a better place.  Get rid of the momentary "nice." Belly up to the kick back you're going to receive when you say "No." It truly can be the kindest answer to give, even when it's disappointing to the hearer. If it's for the long-term good of a person or for humans in general, Just say "No."

The Art of Reflection

A Pensive Moment, by Daniel Ridgeway Knight, found here.

Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times." And he broke down and wept.  ~Mark 14:72

One of the most helpful strategies we can employ in enhancing our lives is reflection.

I wrestled with that word, "reflection," thinking that maybe I should use the word "introspection."  But no, what I mean is the ability to look back over how events or relationships have gone, and to consider honestly what we could have done to help them turn out better.

As a teacher educator, this has been a technique I've tried to instill in my students and faculty.  How did that go for you?  Were you happy with how it turned out?  What might have helped it to go better?  Why do you think so-and-so reacted in the way they did?  If you had responded differently, would the outcome have been different? Could you arrange the context surrounding the event or relationship to provide a better outcome? What about the words you used? What could you have said differently? What solutions did you see in that situation? Can you think of any other approaches, now that you have time to sit and reflect on it, that would have given you better/more options? When something worked out exceptionally well, what do you think caused that to happen?  Is it something you could use in experiencing success again?  Could you use it in a different context?

Reflective teachers are the best teachers, because reflection is one of the best ways we teach ourselves. It's a way in which we can get better and better at what we do. Reflection, whether used alone or in journaling, or in discussion with someone else, can produce those "Aha" moments where real learning happens.  It gives us the tools to change our future. Reflection delivers better options for our lives, no matter how old we get. Change is never impossible. Seeing something in a different light or trying something new is always a possibility, as long as there is still life and breath in us.

Unfortunately, there are some well-meaning folk who manage to come between us and the valuable lessons learned through reflection.  I was once in the company of an older woman who was reflecting on her life. She was in deep discouragement, and as she reflected, she nailed her behavioral failures. And she was grieving where she now was. I was not in a position to respond, so I held my breath, wondering if this would be her "Aha" moment, the one where she would take that clear-eyed discouragement and turn it around to inform what she did from then on. It was not to be. I watched several of her friends and family jump in and say, "It's not so!" and reassure her in ways that led her away from the insights she had been on the edge of gaining. They allowed their need to assuage her discouragement to place them squarely in the position of blocking the benefits of her reflections.

Peter broke down and wept as he recognized that he had disowned his dear friend, his teacher, his Lord. He was fortunate in that no one intervened in his reflections ... at least to our knowledge.  No one stepped in and said, "Oh, it's okay. It wasn't that bad. Jesus will understand."  His sudden, clear view of himself in those hours of reflection led him to weep in utter discouragement, and then to work through that life-changing experience to a more powerful, unselfish and insightful way of life.

Would that we all had the courage to reflect honestly, no matter how painful, to see the many ways in which our lives can be lived better, and to allow our friends the same luxury. Reflective moments can become redeeming ones.

A Little Spot of Holiday

I've not been so good at writing lately, and I apologize.  I keep thinking life will slow down and I'll start spewing profundities. Keep watching, you never know when it might happen. In the meantime, it's time to break my trend of ... well, nothingness. So let me invite you on a little virtual visit to the cabin where we were staying at Waitts Lake this weekend, now that we're about to drive back home. Waitts Lake is 3 miles out of Valley, Washington, which is about an hour's drive north of Spokane.

We're here because my administrative team was having a retreat at a nearby ranch.  But it was our anniversary last Thursday, so we decided to drive up early and get our own cabin, for a little treat.  

A couple of mornings we've walked the road around the lake.  It's a 7-kilometer walk under gorgeous sunshine and blue, blue skies.  No, that is not our cabin down in the grass there.  Can you see our cabin in the trees over on the far side of the lake?  No?  We'll get closer.

Here's our cabin!  It's a 2-story sort-of-like-log cabin on the 2nd tier back from the edge of the lake.  With that elevation, we have a good view, see?  Take a look at this:

I expected to see more water skiers on the lake, but most of the craft that have been out on the lake have been fishing boats and canoes. There's been more water skiing today. I wonder if they have rules that say what boats are out on the lake at which times?  

Even with all this beauty around us, we both had to work.  Except for our Friday night to Sunday morning meetings with my colleagues, Husband studied (here's a typical study pose), and I worked on an article that's supposed to show up in our alumni magazine. I can't imagine a nicer place to get work done!

The people who own and rent out this cabin are really nice midwestern folk who live 20 miles up the road and run a big B&B there. I think they have a sense of humor. The had a sign by the table and chairs on the cabin deck, pointing out the lake just in case you missed it!

There's Husband on the deck, chit-chatting with his mom on the phone Friday evening just after sundown. It's been a lovely weekend.  I'd like to take a little bit of it back with me when we drive out in a few minutes.  

Y'all have a great week!

Book Review: Her Mother's Hope

Francine Rivers' novels have typically been good reads in my life. The first one I read was "The Last Sin Eater," which had me completely engrossed and brought new insights on the topic of atonement.  "The Atonement Child" similarly tackled difficult themes, particularly that of abortion. Unlike most Christian novel writers, whose writing I find preachy or contrived, I have thought Francine Rivers did a pretty nice job of taking the reader into a world that was nearly as gritty and "real" as our own.

This weekend I read "Her Mother's Hope," the latest of Rivers' books, and the first of a two-part series. Rivers did not disappoint.  The multi-generational story, inspired by Rivers' own journey to understand the generations of women in her own family, focuses on mother-daughter relationships, abuse, expectations how they affect the life of a child, hardship, personality differences and hopes. I found the story engaging on its own merits, and at the same time, it clicked with some family dynamics I've seen in my own extended family.  Hmmm.  That will keep a reader reading!

This first book centers on the stories of two women, Marta and her daughter Hildemara.  Marta, an emigrant from Switzerland, is a sturdy and commanding woman whose feistiness and independence both brings and loses her what she dreams of having.  Her daughter Hildemara has her own dreams, more gently pursued but just as deeply rooted as her mothers'.  There is a huge rift between the mother and daughter, understandable to the reader looking on but not to the two women.  And there are no easy answers.  No easy answers to their mismatch, no easy answers to the abuse, no easy answers to the differences they each experience with their husbands. While there's a thread of faith running through the lives of the two characters, their faith is not the sweetsy answer to deeply ingrained problems with the family dynamics.

In other words, the story mirrors the things that happen in our lives, in real people's lives.

I found it amusing to read some of the book reviews at amazon.com.  Some readers complained, "Why can't they see the problem and fix it?" "It was depressing."  "The story lost me."  Well, honey-chile, that's how real life is. You don't wrap up problematic family dynamics in a sweet godly fix so easily and tie a Hallelujah bow on it, dusting off your hands with satisfaction and declaring, "Done!"  Sadly, as you can predict with these two characters, there are many children, parents and grandparents--and us, too--who go to their graves with unresolved issues, having only the grace of God upon which to rely, because no amount of prayer or their best effort has seemed to mend heartbreaking rifts in their family relationships.  It is a grief of this world.  And based on Francine Rivers' notes at the end of this first book, I suspect the rift in her family was also unresolved at the end of her grandmother's and mother's lives. At least, I hope she'll keep it real with the characters in this book.

So if you're looking for a happy-happy joy-joy type of story, go for one of the other Christian novelists who neatly solves all the problems by the last page.  But if you're looking for realistic characters with knotty problems and situations that will make you think about yourself and your own family and intergenerational dynamics, you might want to pick up this book ... and then wait for the sequel to appear this September.

Fourth in the Park

Living in this town for nine years, I have never once attended the yearly "4th of July in the Park" festival.  It seems odd, I know, but we've often been out of town. And the times we've been here?  Well, we just didn't happen to go. But today I hauled my coughing, wheezing self out of the house where I've been stuck with a bad cold and cough for the past five days, and took my mom along with me for a little jaunt to the local festivities.

Wow, was it ever fun!  After finally finding a parking spot on a side street, we walked into Pioneer Park to find lots of happy people settled under the huge shade trees around the bandstand, listening to the community band--which was playing with quite some expertise, thank-you-very-much!  Around the perimeter of the inside ring were little stalls selling various wares, services and food.  We decided to stroll clockwise around the circle.

The surprise was in realizing how many people I saw that I know. I often feel that I'm a wanderer passing through this valley on the way to somewhere else, and hadn't realized that I really have gotten to know a great number of very dear and talented people.

Above you see Jean-Paul, a languages professor from France who, with his wife Karen, owns a lavender farm down the valley to the west.  He had parked his sparkling bright farm truck and was selling large bunches of lavender, while across the way Karen was selling sachets and various other lavender products.  Following a very cool, rainy spring, the lavender has finally bloomed two weeks later than usual, just in time for Independence Day revelers to enjoy it.

After stopping to buy a blue-green glazed honey pot from the pottery stall on the east side of the circle, we came to the booth selling Mediterranean food as a fund raiser for a church youth group.  There was Antoinette, our ebullient Lebanese neighbor who lives across the street from our house, dishing up a killer-delicious falafel.  Wilma, our neighbor from up the street, was taking in the money.  They look like they're having fun, don't they?

Hearing festive music from the performance area, Mama and I walked over to see what was happening.  As we got there the cloggers ended their performance, and the karate school students began theirs. They began with a fan dance by the women of the troupe.

Then the young karate students came onstage and went through their routines. I've never been a huge fan of karate, but I was impressed, watching the discipline and focus of these kids, and their clear awareness of where their bodies were and what they were doing.  I'm so used to working with my brain and communication that this world of physical intelligence always impresses me.

Coming to the end of our loop, we watched a little girl getting her hair spray-painted to fit the theme of the day's festivities.  Red, white, and blue went on in stripes, followed by a stencil-shaped contrasting star on each side of her head.

She was clearly pleased with the result, and I would have been, too!

As far as treasures brought home from our excursion, my Mama bought us a lovely little honeypot that matches our counters perfectly.  And for herself she brought home a big cup of delicious cherries.  Yum!

Spending the Fourth in the Park?  I plan do to it again!