The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Well over a decade ago, I had a monthly mail-sending schedule. I wrote and sent out approximately 7 letters or cards per week, offering words of encouragement to various friends and family members each week—but contacting my grandmothers each week.

Because I was writing so much, my brother and sister-in-law decided to give me my own font for Christmas. They gave me the paperwork. I completed a hand-writing sample and sent it all in. To Sweden. A few weeks later, I received an e-mail with my very own font! It’s called Deanna’s Hand. I was thrilled. I’m still thrilled!

A few years ago, as I was window shopping in Blowing Rock, I suddenly stopped in my tracks. My handwriting was in the window!!! Toms, the shoe company, had chosen Deanna’s Hand for its handwriting font in one, small window cling campaign!!! Seeing my handwriting in the window for all of Blowing Rock to see prompted me figure out how Toms had gotten my font. Well. It’s a free download. Anyone can get it. Just do a search. You can get it, too…along with tons of other free fonts that people have created.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I have a small classroom library that my students can access during class. I had the idea to create the library during one of our Book Fairs and started my collection with a 2-book donation from a parent. In the annual post-Christmas book sale at Books-A-Million, I grew the collection with a bunch of animal, dinosaur, and interesting fact books that kids love. Then, during a classroom library workshop at school, I grew the library even more with donations from the school.

A handful of students expectedly wandered to the library and happily read its books during class. My philosophy is that if the kids are reading, staying out of trouble, and not distracting other students, all the while subconsciously hearing the music lesson, then it’s a win-win for everyone. What I didn’t expect, however, was that that same handful of kids would want to take the books home. At first that was fine. But then classmates started to realize what was happening and they wanted to take books home, too.

So one Thursday afternoon while being bombarded with students wanting to take home books, I just said yes, yes, yes, so that they would stop asking! While one of those students stood with me to wait for the teacher, he first grossed me out by turning to a page on how a tribe in one part of Africa drinks cow’s blood during the drought season. I literally gagged and almost threw up, but then he turned the page and I gasped! MY FONT! My font was in the book! An entire two page spread was written in Deanna’s Hand!

I started babbling and trying to find the words to explain to the kids that it was a font that I had created but they didn’t quite understand and thought I meant that I had literally written out the pages but I was so excited that they were so excited so by the time the teacher got there we were all just in an excited state of font-appearance amazement!

I stayed that way for a few days. And clearly I am still excited. Not because I get paid. Not because I will be famous. But because it’s neat to see your handwriting in print…and to think that out of the fonts in the whole wide world, someone thought my font cool enough to use in a book.

When I wrote my brother and sister-in-law to tell them my exciting news, they were excited, too! I shared with the rest of my family, too. And then we all celebrated. And shared in thanksgiving for the gift that keeps on giving.

Kindness

I have visited my grandmother’s house almost every Christmas of my life. On many of those Christmas trips, I’ve attempted to read one of the old books adorning G-mama’s shelves. More often than not, I have failed at this attempt. I’m a terrible reader with my eyes. So this past Christmas, I didn’t even bother to look at the bookshelves. In addition to my family who permanently live in town, my niece and nephews and families were in town, so I focused on them instead of literary scholarship…until the last night we were there.

For some reason, as I walked to my room that night, a tiny little book caught my attention. I imagine that the book had been sitting there for most of my life, yet for some reason it jumped out to me that night. So I pulled it off the shelf and went to the world’s most comfortable bed, fully expecting to be asleep a few pages into the text. Instead, I found myself closing the book’s back cover well over an hour later, having just read a tiny little book that spoke to me so powerfully that I wiped away tears more than once and packed the book in my book bag so that I could read it again. And probably again. And again.

“The Greatest Thing In the World” is a meditation on 1 Corinthians 13 that Henry Drummond wrote in 1874. Henry Drummond, born in Scotland in 1851, was an ordained minister and theologian best remembered as a gifted evangelist who assisted Dwight L. Moody during his revival campaigns. He was also a lecturer in natural science and wrote several books. Before that night at G-mama’s, I have no memory of ever hearing Henry Drummond’s name or of being introduced to “The Greatest Thing In The World.” I’m not sure why this is so, and I’m not sure why more people in my circles haven’t read and/or discussed this book/meditation/address. Maybe I wasn’t ready to hear Henry’s thoughts. Or maybe we haven’t needed to be reminded of his words so desperately until now.

Since stealing Drummond’s tiny little book from its place on a bookshelf in Jacksonville, Florida, I have been keeping it on my nightstand, reading its pages slowly each night, and letting its words, thoughts, and images seep into my being. I could probably spend weeks hashing out my thoughts on love, as influenced by Drummond’s ideas, but for now I simply want to share the passage that I read last night. Written so long ago, Drummond’s words and semantics are sometimes difficult to decipher, so I’m going to paraphrase a bit to make the thoughts more readable. I hope these words present as much relevant challenge to you as they do me. If not, come back to them. You never know when the word of God, active and alive, will speak to your soul. As I learned this Christmas break, it’s oftentimes when you least expect it.

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Kindness. Love active. Have you ever noticed how much of Christ’s life was spent in doing kind things—in merely doing kind things? Run over it with that in view, and you will find that He spent a great proportion of His time simple in making people happy, in doing good turns to people.

There is only one thing greater than happiness in the world, and that is holiness; and holiness is not in our keeping. But what God has put in our power is the happiness of those about us, and that is largely to be secured by our being kind to them.

“The greatest thing,” says someone, “a man can do for [God] is to be kind to some of [God’s] other children.” I wonder why it is that we are not all kinder than we are? How much the world needs it! How easily it is done. How instantaneously it acts. How infallibly it is remembered. How superabundantly it pays itself back—for there is no debtor in the world so honorable, so superbly honorable, as Love. “Love never fails.” Love is success, Love is happiness, Love is life. Love, I say with Browning, “is energy of Life.”

For life, with all it yields of joy or woe
And hope and fear,
Is just our chance o’ the prize of learning love,--
How might love be, hath been indeed, and is.

Where Love is, God is. Those that dwells in love dwell in God. God is love. Therefore, love! Without distinction, without calculation, without procrastination, love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it is very easy; especially upon the rich, who often need it most; most of all upon our equals, where it is very difficult, and for whom, perhaps, we do least of all.

There is a difference between trying to please and giving pleasure. Give pleasure. Lose no chance of giving pleasure. For that is the ceaseless and anonymous triumph of a truly loving spirit.

“I shall pass through this world but once. Any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

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Loving God who is Love. Help us to love through kindness today, tomorrow, and in all the days to come. Amen. And amen.

How Full Is Your Bucket?

A few years ago, I went to a one-day training on The Five Love Languages. I have led staff trainings on the love languages and included a ranking system on my school’s secret pal forms each year. I truly believe in the love languages and know exactly what I need for my “love tank” to be filled—words of affirmation and physical touch. I also know exactly what I don’t need—exactly what shuts me down: negative words.

A few days ago, I finished reading the book How Full Is Your Bucket? for class. It reminds me of the concept of filling the love tank in The Five Love Languages. In fact, I wonder if one influenced the other. Either way, this book got to me. Clear, simple, and direct, the book was a perfectly-timed reminder that if anything is going to change in this world then it is going to have to come from a place of positive emotion.

Today’s culture is one of negativity—of nit-picking—of making rules because personal aesthetic has been upset. Daily interactions and activity tend to be more bucket draining than filling. And not just for the adults. For kids as well.

I teach over 700 kids each week. Sometimes, some of those over 700 students push the boundaries a little too far. I must confess, though, when I give my boundary-pushing students written alternate assignments, I usually do not return their papers; I sometimes don’t even get a chance to read them. I usually file them away in a folder entitled “discipline” in case I need to return to them one day.

Recently, on a morning when I was feeling a bit discouraged and my bucket was rather empty (in the language of the book I just read), I looked at a stack of papers that some boundary-pushing students had completed the day before. In that moment, I thought, “I hope these kids never feel like I feel right now. But I bet they do. I bet that their buckets stay close to empty. Maybe I should start trying to more intentionally fill my students’ buckets.”

So I put the rest of my to-do list on hold for a moment, took out a pen, and wrote positive comments on my students’ papers. I found ways to compliment their work. I agreed with comments and asked curious questions about answers. In so many words, I let them know that while I didn’t approve of the actions that led to the alternate assignment, I did approve of them. I let them know that I was interested in their thoughts. And then I found the students and returned their papers. I have no idea if my comments meant anything to my students or not. But the sheer act of writing the comments helped me fill my own bucket just a bit…if that’s even possible…and it helped me have a much more positive day.

On the first awards day of my first year at my school, my principal asked me to “sing a little song.” I didn’t have a little song to sing, so I wrote one. I wrote one about the school and what I thought we could be. When I finished singing that morning, teachers had tears in their eyes as they stood and clapped. “You have no idea how long we’ve needed to hear something positive,” they later said. “Thank you.” I had unknowingly added drops to their buckets. Teaching is hard work.

That year, I made it my goal to do whatever I could do to increase staff morale—to keep adding drops to buckets. I have continued that goal into my fourth year at my school—organizing treat days and First Friday events off campus, coordinating Secret Pals, providing daily coffee/tea, working to keep the workroom clean, listening to teachers whenever they need to talk.

Tomorrow is our first treat day of the year. Even though the hurricane is going to cut our educational day short, we’re still going to have treats. Treat days are some of my favorite days. Sometimes simple things like food nourish the soul. Sometimes free drinks literally add drops to the bucket.

I am an encourager. I know this. It is one of my top spiritual gifts. And what I’ve realized after reading How Full Is Your Bucket? is that even though I sometimes find myself very discouraged, I must continue to find ways to encourage the people around me—especially my colleagues and students—even when it is hard and my bucket is next to empty.

What book have you read that has challenged you lately? What life-altering things have you been learning? What things have you been doing to add drops to people’s buckets?

A Very, Very Good Thing

Until Jack the Nephew came along, the Harry Potter series intimidated me. Not because of subject matter, character, or plot line. But because the books are so thick!

But when Jack started reading and liking the series, I decided that it was time for me to tackle it as well. With my ears, of course. But still: thick printed books make for long audio books.

Considering that I’ve now read the entire series twice (which is hundreds of hours of reading—with my ears, of course), watched each of the movies at least three times, and made Harry Potter references a regular part of conversation, I think it’s safe to say that I’m glad that Jack unintentionally nudged me toward overcoming my book-intimidation.

On Friday night, my sister and her family held their annual Halloween party. This year’s theme? Zombies vs. Harry Potter. Being the terrible Halloween-er that I am, I dressed as a muggle who sort of felt like a zombie after finishing the week’s work, but I enjoyed identifying other people’s costumes nonetheless. My sister dressed as Moaning Myrtle and wore a toilet seat around her neck. My brother-in-law dressed as Oliver Wood. Griffin the Nephew dressed as Harry Potter. Amelia the Niece dressed as Jenny Weasley—complete with red hair. And Dumbledore, Valdemort, Professor Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, Hedwig, MadEye Moody, Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry’s petronas, a nitch, and a dementor were some of the other characters who attended the party.

In the spirit of the weekend, my sister asked if I’d like to join the family at the North Carolina Symphony on Saturday. They were playing music from…Harry Potter! I said yes. And I wore my brother-in-law’s Gryffindor robe so that I’d more fully belong :-).

After we waded through the sea of families dressed in all sorts of costumes, and climbed all the way to the top of the auditorium—literally—our seats were on the back row—and after I climbed all the way back down to the foyer because we forgot to get programs—I noticed something interesting: The guest symphony conductor was a woman.

As my sister and I discussed how unusually neat it was to have a woman conductor, Amelia looked at me and said, “Is it not normal to have a female conductor?”

I said, “No, sweetpea. Most of the time, when you go to a symphony concert, the conductor is a man. It’s actually very unusual to see a female conductor. We get to see something special today.”

She said, “Oh. It’s not unusual for me. I don’t go to very many symphony concerts.”

Shortly after this conversation, we noticed that the guest illusionist (think stage magician) was also a woman. As a result, the same conversation ensued. Neither my sister nor I had seen many—if any—female illusionists—so we both realized the significance of the concert. Amelia, though—Amelia thought absolutely nothing about the fact that women were leading the day’s events. For Amelia, strong, female leadership is just normal.

This, to me, friends, is not a result of magic or a reality only of fictional literature.
This, to me, friends, seems the result of many slow years of change—years that are still changing.
And this, to me, is a very, very good thing.

A Bad Feeling

Going back to work today wasn’t too bad. Tomorrow will likely be more difficult because I’ll have less adrenaline. But today was okay…except that I carried an underlying sense of anxiety all day—because of the book that I’m reading.

I’ve read the book before—a clearance book from the Books-A-Million in Columbia—but I don’t remember anything about it. The basic plot is of a twenty-something going home for her brother’s wedding, only her brother is uncertain as to whether or not he should go through with the wedding because he has fallen in love with another woman. He must figure out what to do and she must face her past.

The book is fine. Decently written. Decently read. But I’ve been so worried about the fiancé that I’ve been anxious for the entire four hours that I’ve been reading (with my ears)—and evidently in the hours when I’ve not been listening in my car—that I haven’t really been able to enjoy it.

The writer doesn’t share the fiancé’s point of view. The only things we know about her come from the narrator’s perspective. So we don’t know what she’s thinking—how she’s feeling—if she has any clue that her wedding is likely going to be cancelled and that a ten year relationship is likely going to end—or if she’s going to have a huge bomb dropped on her. Regardless, she’s in a really bad situation…and no matter what happens, she’s going to be really hurt. She’s either going to be marrying a man who loves another woman or she’s going to be forced to walk away from the man she thought she’d be with forever—and neither are really fair to her—nor are the lies she’s been told—or the information that’s been kept secret—or the choices that have not been given to her to make.

I know. You may be thinking. This is a fictional character, Rev. Dee. But is it really? Isn’t this the story of so many people? Maybe not the possibility of a cancelled wedding on the wedding weekend—although I know that that happens more often than any of us want to admit—but the unfairness, the lies and half-truths, the secret information, the choices not offered, the imbalance of power, the not-knowing how to have a really difficult conversation. Might this be your story, too?

I remember struggling with similar thoughts as I walked up and down the halls of the hospital where I served as chaplain. On so many occasions, I felt horrible knowing that I knew difficult information that families did not know—yet I couldn’t say a word. I held an unfair power advantage in the situation—and sometimes I had to have conversations with people, trying to remain present and non-anxious, knowing that their loved-one was dying—knowing that their hearts were going to break momentarily—when all information was made known. I hated the knowing. And I hated imagining how I’d feel if I were on the other side of myself.

So I guess that’s what this book has done to me—made me imagine how it would feel to be the fiancé unknowingly waiting for life-changing information to be shared with her—and it’s a bad feeling. The blind ignorance. The shock. The feeling of being second-best—of somehow not being good enough. It’s just…a bad feeling.

So for everyone who may be remembering and/or feeling any of those feelings tonight—
For whatever reason—
I offer prayers for peace and comfort right now.
And for everyone who is in any type of relationship—
For however long—
I offer prayers for honesty and respect;
for ears to hear and hearts to listen; and
for healthy wisdom and endurance to do the hard work of love—
wherever that work may lead.
Amen.

Defining Moments: Harry Potter

It’s all Jack’s fault.

I’m currently reading The Blood of Olympus, the fifth and final book in Rick Riordan’s Heroes of Olympus series. But before I started The Blood of Olympus, though, I was reading Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets for the third time. I’ve seen all of the movies, too. They kept me company while packing my apartment in SC.

Like I said, it’s all Jack’s fault.

What Nephew Jack reads, Aunt Dee reads. Sometimes we get to talk about the stories. Sometimes we don’t. Either way, it’s opened a whole new world of story for me, and I’m very glad.

Harry Potter used to intimidate me. I saw the books and how many pages they held and I thought to myself, “I’d never make it through that.” Even after I started listening to books on CD, I still considered Harry Potter a task too daunting to undertake.

I’d heard how wonderful the books were. I’d had numerous people recommend them to me. I was with Angela when she bought the sixth book on CD many years ago. We were on our way to a wedding in Connecticut and she was so anxious to hear Rowling’s latest installment that we stopped at a Wal-mart for the purchase along the way! She listened while I slept, and I remember waking up, listening, and being completely lost. Little did I know that a few years later, I’d be listening to that exact book, no longer lost, and totally thankful that Angela had purchased it.

She purchased all of the other books, too, and had them in a shoe box at her house when I decided to read the series (with my ears). Jack had started it (with his eyes). He loved it. I wanted to be able to speak with him intelligently. I had plenty of listening time as I drove around SC for work. It was time.

I think that the fact that I’ve started the series for the third time is testament to the fact that I liked it. And not only did I like it, but I also accidentally allowed it to change the way I think.

Don’t worry, folks, I haven’t allowed witchcraft and wizardry to take over my mind.
But I do often wish I had an invisibility cloak and the ability to disparate.
I do find myself comparing painful experiences and places to dementors.
I often imagine myself in Hogwarts and desire to meet Dobby.
I ponder the series’ themes of light and darkness, good and evil, friendship and family.
I marvel at the creativity that God has placed in the human mind.
And I connect with the notion that love has the power to withstand evil…lightning scar or not.
After all, it’s Love that I’ve built my life upon…and it’s love that leads us to read books and opens hearts and sets us free…

Helen's Courage

A few years ago, as I was trying to decide whether or not to go swimming at camp, I had the following conversation with a friend: Me: “I don’t always like to go swimming because I can’t see when I take off my glasses.” Friend: “Me either. And when I take my hearing aid out, you might as well call me Helen Keller.” So I did :-). I called her Helen for the rest of the summer and jokingly bought her a copy of “The Story of My Life” by Helen Keller. Surprisingly, she read the book! And she told me that it was a good read.

Fast forward to a few Sundays ago…Patrick was preaching a sermon in which he mentioned Jesus’ ability to move persons from darkness to light—to set persons free from bondage—to give voice to the voiceless. As his example to set up the idea, Patrick shared a bit of Helen Keller’s story—how she, though deaf and blind, was literally given a voice when she learned to read and write. Remembering the simple story from above and feeling totally fascinated by the notion of someone moving from darkness to light, I ordered “The Story of My Life” for myself.

In the week since I began listening to the book, I have watched YouTube videos of Helen’s life, mentioned her in more conversations than should be normal, and been absolutely amazed at her story—her insight, wisdom, intelligence, determination, gratitude, generous spirit, charity, writing, humility, positive attitude, and courage. Other than Jesus, Helen Keller has become the historical figure whom I’d most like to meet should time travel be possible, and her life has moved into a place of inspiration that is not finished inspiring.

It takes courage to set your mind to something at which you could easily fail. It takes courage to open your heart to things that could easily hurt you. It takes courage to face your fears.

For Helen, it took courage to set her mind to learning to sing and speak when she had no point of reference for sound. It took courage to decide to graduate from college when a college degree required taking classes in Greek, Hebrew, French, and German—when English didn’t even come naturally.

For others, it takes courage to:
apologize for speaking hurtful words;
leave a toxic, unhealthy relationship;
do the hard work of facing inner demons;
slowly open and create more space for life;
get out of bed each day;
stay sober;
get married;
have a baby.

I’ve witnessed a lot of courage recently.

I think Helen would be proud.

…

Courage: A Poem
Always know, dear friend, that God’s love and peace are real.
When you don’t have the courage to let go or the stamina to try,
rest in the certainty of God’s strength,
open yourself to the beauty of possibility,
trust in the promise of God’s amazing grace, and
remember that my love for you is real, too.

Will You Uphold Me?

On our way back from Florida today, I finished listening to the book, “Blackwater.” In it, the main character, Brodie, plays a simple prank on two kids from his high school, yet the prank goes wrong and both kids die. Paralyzed by emotion and reality, Brodie allows his cousin—a wandering, attention seeking soul who lives for danger—to construct a lie about the events that led to the students’ deaths. As a result, Brodie and his cousin are heralded as heroes…yet the truth eats at Brodie’s soul.

One girl knows the truth, though. One girl saw what happened. In a gentle, loving way, this girl encourages Brodie to confess the truth because she knows, from experience, that hiding the truth is more difficult than living a lie. She assures Brodie that even though the truth may be difficult to speak and even though it may not be well-received, things will, in time, smooth over and telling the truth, in the end, will allow Brodie to live free. She also assures Brodie that she will support him and walk with him through whatever happens.

Eventually Brodie tells the truth. As can be expected, Brodie’s parents are devastated. They hurt for the reality of what happened but they also grieve for the weight of guilt that their son has been carrying alone.

The book ends the night before the funeral of the second student. Literally sick with regret and worry—with the knowledge that his life will never be the same—Brodie—a middle school boy—asks his parents if he can lay between them in their bed—in the place where he once felt safe. As the family lay on their backs beside one another that night—each thinking their own thoughts—the mom and dad drift to sleep...but Brodie lies restlessly awake.

Then, in one of the most profound scenes I have ever read, Brodie whispers his dad’s name. His dad immediately wakes up—the book says it’s as if the dad only half sleeps—as if he’s always listening for his name in case his son or wife need him—and says, “Yes.”

Brodie says, “Dad. Will you uphold me tomorrow?”
Brodie’s dad responds, “Son. I will uphold you tomorrow and in all the days to come.”
And then Brodie goes to sleep.

Oh dear friends…may we be like Brodie’s father (and friend) and choose to uphold one another no matter what truths are confessed or lies are constructed.

Like Brodie, I believe we’re each doing our best to survive, yet sometimes life spins out of control and leaves us gasping for air. Some days we have it all together while other days we’re lucky to survive. But oh the scary freedom of truth! Oh the knowledge that we’re all in this thing called life together! Oh the sting of consequences but the balm of grace! Oh the assurance of being loved…of feeling safe…of feeling secure…of knowing you’re going to make it…of knowing you are upheld.

“Deanna? Will you uphold me?” you may ask.
“Yes, friend.” I will answer. “I will uphold you. Today, tomorrow, and in all the days to come.”

Amen.

Deanna The Double Dutch Dreamer

Last night was my Sabbath night, so I did not cut on the TV or use my computer after leaving work. Instead, I cooked, cleaned, and read—both with my ears and with my eyes. With my ears, I read the book, “Double Dutch,” and with my eyes I read one speech out of “Great Speeches By African Americans.” I fell asleep thinking about slavery, freedom, and double dutch. Quite an odd combination.

I really enjoyed listening to, “Double Dutch.” I liked the middle school characters—I could hear echoes of students from years past—and I imagined the sport—a sport that I have always been fascinated with—and I wished that I could back handspring into two turning ropes and then cartwheel in and out of them with ease. But alas. I cannot. I’m fairly certain that I never will. In fact, I think the turning of the ropes at this point in my life might make me motion sick!

One of the things that I keep thinking about today is how double dutch gave the characters in the book purpose and meaning. More than one character declared that double dutch saved their life—that it gave them something to be good at, somewhere they could belong, a positive way to escape from their problems, and a goal toward which to strive. At one point in the book, the characters united in the Double Dutch Pledge and said:

I promise to do my best to:
• Report for practice on time;
• Work cooperatively with my coach, teammates, and Double Dutch officials;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug free;
• Demonstrate my best with daily school attendance, assignments, and home responsibilities.

I don’t know about you, but I think the Double Dutch pledge—which is purely fictional as far as I can tell—is a great way to live. I think workplaces would be transformed if everyone pledged to:
• Report to meetings on time;
• Work cooperatively with my boss, coworkers, and company officials;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug and other addiction free;
• Demonstrate my best with daily work attendance, job assignments, and home responsibilities.

And what about churches?
I promise to:
• Report to Sunday school, worship, choir practice, and committee meetings on time;
• Work cooperatively with my pastors, lay persons, committee leaders, and deacons;
• Strive to encourage good citizenship, always setting a good (Christ-like) example;
• Practice good health habits—promising to be drug free and not to over-eat at church pot-lucks;
• Demonstrate my best with worship attendance, missions, and home responsibilities.

I think you get the idea.

Deanna The Double Dutch Dreamer may never say the fictional Double Dutch Pledge at the fictional National Double Dutch Tournament, but she can make a pledge with her life to be the best God has called her to be. And she can do everything possible to make the church and her life’s expression of Christianity a place where people can come and feel welcomed and accepted, like they have a place to belong, like they have a positive escape from their problems, and like they have something that they are good at—whatever that something is—because we’re all good at something—even if it’s not Double Dutch.

Simple Complexity Beside the Naked Yellow Tree

The yellow tree beside my window is almost completely naked now. I’ve watched her strip her leaves today, gently releasing them from her branches, freeing them to float to the ground. It’s been lovely to watch, a beautiful cascade of color in the background of my black and white, computerized work…

The thoughts and questions on my mind today are simply, complex:

My question of the week: I’ve not come up with a definite answer, but I’ve been thinking about it. How do I communicate my work and call in a non-apologetic way?

My conviction of the week: I need to make a better effort of purchasing gifts and items that allow me to be a good steward of my resources while also supporting the community/economy and not supporting slave-labor. This conviction was planted earlier in the week after reading the following post by my friend Sean: OK people, please bear with me for a quick update/rant...Stop buying stuff online and support your community!!! Don't click! It is less than 50 days until Christmas and we are solidly in the 4th quarter. In my area of retail, 30%+ of our yearly sales happen in the 6-7 weeks before Christmas. Here are the trends that I've seen... 1) The average ticket price is the same to slightly better than last year, and 2) The number of tickets per day (compared to this time last year) has dropped dramatically. Here is my analysis: The people shopping with us are doing fine (financially), but we are losing our customer base. If our tickets were down and price per ticket were down, then I'd say it was more of an economic downturn. In our area we have lost (local) competitors yet had a growth in population. These people have to be shopping somewhere. I am assuming that they are buying online. If this continues, I will be out of a job and you may see another empty store front. For every $100 spent at a large chain, $13 stays local; whereas, for every $100 spent at a local indie store, $45 stays in the community.

My literary quote of the week: I listened to a dramatization of “Lord of The Rings” this week and pretty much had no idea what was going on most of the time; however, I did hear some pretty awesome quotes. This is one of them. And I think it’s a profound statement of redemption and grace: "He deserves death." "Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, or good or Ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many - yours not least." (Frodo and Gandalf discussing the fate of the betrayer Gollum, Chapter 'The Shadow of the Past')

What are the thoughts and questions on your mind today?

I Really Do Know How To Read With My Eyes

I’m not a good reader with my eyes. I think we’ve established that fact. Yet in the past week, I have finished three books with my eyes and started on a fourth, not to mention completed a 17 hour audio book and made plans to start another audio book tonight.

The trick? I haven’t been in the office. I was on vacation last week and today I’ve been working from a remote location because I have a training tonight. I haven’t been online or distracted. I haven’t been looking at my to-do list that causes me to feel overwhelmed and behind (like I do at this moment, just writing about it.) I’ve been able to lay down and read—which is my most successful reading position—and I’ve been able to put the book down and rest my eyes a bit after reading for awhile. For the past week, it’s been a little reading here, a little resting there, and…well…the pattern has allowed me to read much more successfully than usual.

I finished “Same Kind of Different As Me,” which I had started in February. I started and finished, “Great Love for Girls,” a New Hope study that some people had asked me about for work. I started and finished, “Thin Enough,” another New Hope book—this one detailing one girl’s journey through disordered eating and food addiction. And I’ve started, “Do This And Live,” a WMU book written by my friends Suzanne and Kym and one that, ironically, shares about the meaning of life and living life to the fullest (which I ecclesiastically addressed on Thursday).

On the docket, I have a whole bunch of Bible studies to read, two books on the history of WMU, and one book that serves as our focus book for the year. I also would like to finish a couple of other books that I’ve started at home AND read two books that I bought last night—“The Dark Night of the Soul” by St. John of the Cross and “Essays by Famous Black Americans.” Unfortunately, if I’m ever to read those, then I may have to stay on vacation for the next two months OR work from remote locations each day…and…well…for some reason, I don’t think that’s going to happen! J

As far as reading with my ears is concerned…I started and finished Jodi Piccoult’s “Sing You Home.” Jodi Piccoult is a good writer, but she is not afraid to address difficult social, moral, and theological issues head on…and…well…that doesn’t always make easy reading for this thinking feeler! Tonight, I’ll start Alice Walker’s, “The Color Purple,” and I’ll once again listen to Walker’s laid back, rhythmic voice as she reads a literary masterpiece that, I’ve heard, is dramatic and difficult in its own right. [When my book club read “The Color Purple” a few years ago, Walker hadn’t released an audio version, so I didn’t bother to read it with my eyes. I’m excited to finally read it now.]

Notice the difference in book selections: I’m reading non-fiction with my eyes and reading fiction with my ears. I can’t imagine setting or keep names straight or let my imagination wonder when I’m reading with my eyes. I read what’s on the page—literally on the page—word for word, and if I skim then I fear that I’ve missed something and make myself go back and reread it, sometimes 5 or more times. You can imagine why it takes me so long to read! And, well, sometimes, I really do think that I have some type of reading disability.

I suppose that there is no major point to this note. It sounds silly to say that I’m proud of myself for reading so many books with my eyes, yet I am. And I hope—really hope—that, somehow—and I haven’t figured out how—when I get back into my normal schedule and routine tomorrow that I’ll figure out how to keep reading with my eyes, how to keep feeling accomplished, how to keep feeling calm and relaxed, and not how to get swallowed by that doggone to-do list that feels like it has fangs that chase me and want to eat me alive.

What about you? Are you an eye or ear reader? And what books have you read recently. And, most importantly, what book should I read after “The Color Purple”? I’m very open to, and asking for, suggestions!