12 Seconds

 

Have you ever been heating something in the microwave,

Waiting patiently,

Or maybe not so patiently,

When you got to the last few seconds,

And just gave up and opened the door early?

 

This happens all the time at school!

I’ll go to the microwave and see twelve seconds remaining,

Or four,

Or seven.

Some small number that represents seconds

That someone just couldn’t wait for their food.

 

I did it just the other day!

 

I suppose that in a school setting, every second counts.

We literally don’t have much time to heat our food and also eat it.

So saving a few seconds of heating time gives a few more seconds of eating time.

I know I’ve eaten my food cold more than once so I’d have more time to digest.

So I guess that makes sense.

 

But what about at home?

We open the microwave early all the time!

And there’s no rush.

There’s no reason not to wait for the final few seconds to impart heat into the food.

We just don’t do it.

We open the door and leave those seconds suspended in time.

And we create more steps for next time because we have to first clear out the wasted seconds

So that we can put in the new time and press start once again.

 

Why do we do this?

 

Why do we so often rush the process?

 

Why do we so often quit the process before it through?

 

Why do we so often wait impatiently when know that we are waiting for something good?

 

I don’t know.

 

Human nature I suppose.

 

I just think it’s interesting that we can’t wait 12 more seconds.

 

God, help us wait 12 more seconds.

 

Amen.

A New Year's Resolution (Of Sorts)

 

Tuesday was Barb the Great’s birthday.

I always spend the day with her to celebrate

And Tuesday was no exception.

Except it was. 

 

I drove up to Barb’s midday. 

we had lunch and then we drove to Starbucks to get the most expensive free birthday drink we could think of.

Afterwards, we went to a plant store and looked at plants for ourselves and our loved ones. 

When I tried to send a plant picture to my sister, I noticed that I didn’t have signal. 

Figuring that I was just in a dead zone, 

I was annoyed,

But I didn’t think too much of it. 

When we left the store, though, and I still didn’t have signal, I began to realize that something was weird. 

I restarted my phone, 

As one does when there are technological issues, 

And I got a message that said

No SIM card detected. 

That’s what I knew that something had gone really wrong.

Barb said that the same thing had happened to her awhile back and that she had to go to the Verizon store to get it fixed.

So she told me to go.

Immediately.

So I went.

Immediately.

 

Without cell signal,

I felt weird.

I worried that I would wreck or break down and not be able to contact anyone.

I worried that someone would need to contact me and not be able to reach me.

I worried that I would lose my way and not be able to get directions. 

I couldn’t listen to my music or a book. 

I couldn’t mindlessly check my texts or Facebook when sitting at a stoplight.

My normal creature comforts had been taken away and 

I was all out of sorts. 

 

But it made me think.

I think maybe we’ve become too connected,

Or at least too dependent on the possibility of instant connection.

I think maybe we’ve lost the ability to sit and wait and be bored. 

I think maybe we’ve succumbed to a culture of fear that plagues us with thoughts of what if

If we’re not instantly connected.

And I think maybe we would grow a little if we could live counter culturally 

And put our phones down.

Some. 

I think maybe I could anyway. 

But I think that doing so will be very very hard.

 

I got a taste of it, 

by accident, 

on Tuesday

And I didn’t like it.

But I survived. 

And I think maybe I can survive a little each day

With a few simple modifications. 

 

I’m not going to make any promises.

I’m not going to make any resolutions. 

But I am going to try, 

To be counter-cultural and not let fears and what-ifs control me, 

Especially around technology, 

Which I know we need,

But that can too easily take over our lives. 

 

I’m thankful that my SIM card issue was an easy fix. 

I’m thankful that I got back to Barb in time to have her birthday dinner. 

I’m thankful for technology and all that is allows us to do. 

And I’m thankful for the ability to grow and change. 

Especially when it makes us better. 

 

Amen. 

Gracious Release

 It’s taken me a long time,

But I’ve finally come to accept the reality that friendships come and go—

That people are active in our lives for a season,

But that seasons change—

Whether it be a school change, a job change, a church change, a change in marital status, or any other life change.

Very few friendships are meant to actively span the years,

And that’s okay.  

 

Our goal is to be grateful for our active friendships when and while we have them,

And then to graciously release them to social media friend status, or acquaintance status, or sometimes just someone that I used to know.

 

A gracious release, I think, should happen naturally in time—

No major falling out, no in-depth discussion on growing apart,

Just a natural fading of intensity

That may or may not rekindle.

 

But every once in awhile,

A gracious release isn’t possible.

There IS a falling out.

There IS an in-depth discussion on growing apart.

There IS an unexplained cut-off.

There ARE harsh words.

And then it hurts so very badly.

 

Last Monday, 

I ran into a harsh cut-off at Walmart.

I hadn’t seen the friend in years,

But there she appeared,

An hour away from home.

When she saw me,

She quickly moved away.

We did not reminisce about the past.

We did not catch up on the present.

We did not speak at all.

And yet ever since that moment,

I have spoken to her every night in my dreams…

 

I haikued:

 

May our spirits reach

What our bodies cannot touch

A mutual goodbye

 

Friends: If you have ever had a not-so-gracious release,

Know that you are not alone.

One day you WILL heal.

Just give yourself time.

Give yourself space.

And give yourself active friendships…

Because they will push you through this season…

And some of them may even stay the course of time.

 

Amen.

With Time And A Lot of Love

We are broken,
In thousands of pieces shattered.
Time has not yet
Healed gaping wounds of injustice and hurt.
Time, instead, has proven that
Institutionalized racism and sexism are real.
More hatred prevails than should
Ever be harsh reality. Us
Against them divisions are fault lines on which
Numerous people stand.
Destruction and deception are norms.
Apathy and affluence eat at the core.
Love does not always win,
Only the hope for Love and peace remain. In
Thousands of pieces, we are shattered.
Oh, how broken we are!
Forgive us, God, for making a mess of this life.
Let today be a fresh start
Of repentance and forgiveness, of time and
Voices coming together as one, overcoming the brokenness of
Earth, of society, of humanity, of hearts, of us…

Amen.

End of Year Reflection

6.6.19—End of Year Reflection

Last year at this time, I was setting up my hut for the beginning of the 2018-2019 school year. I spent a lot of money on storage containers; inventoried and organized all instruments, CDs, DVDs, and books in the classroom; and rearranged everything in the hut so that it would be ready when the school year began. I worked really hard for all of the workdays and left my classroom more prepared than at any time in my career…only to be called away from that classroom just a few weeks later.

To say that this year has flown by would be an understatement. It seems like just last week that I was sorting through an entirely new batch of music stuff, trying to make sense of what was and wasn’t at Greenwood, trying to figure out how to set up a classroom that was actually in the building, with a closet, and near a bathroom, rather than in a hut! Instead of beginning the year prepared as planned, I began the year feeling unprepared and overwhelmed by the whirlwind that was an unexpected move and by the enormity of building a music program for 650 students (and teachers and parents, too) whose names I did not know and whose stories I’d not yet learned. Yet I made it. With the help and support of my team and with grace and patience toward myself, I made it. And it was a good year. Different than I’d expected. But good nonetheless. And my classroom finally feels normal—like home away from home—it just took some time…

Time. Our greatest enemy. Our best friend.

Or as Henry Van Dyke once said, “Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”

I am thankful that time has allowed me to settle in at Greenwood and that, as far as I know, I will have more time next year to learn more names, hear more stories, and get to love people more dearly than I already do…

Yesterday at Kindergarten graduation, one of my Kindergarteners said that his favorite part of Kindergarten was completing Kindergarten because everyone in his family had completed Kindergarten and he wanted to carry on the family tradition 😊.

I have now completed 14 years of teaching. I don’t know if I will retire from this career or if God will call me to something different. But in the meantime, in all the time in between now and then—whenever “then” is—I want to carry on a tradition of excellence for my students and coworkers. I want to know people’s names. I want to live and breathe grace and patience. I want to surround myself with good people who make good things possible. And I want to tell those people that they are loved and appreciated…through all space, eternity, and time…

Deliberate Waiting

On October 5, 2004, a colleague made me angry. She made her lack of planning my emergency and then blamed it on being busy. I promptly wrote this poem:

Bumblebee

We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?

We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.

Over the weekend, almost all of the women on the women’s retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. This morning, the intern who led the spiritual care staff devotion spoke about the dangers of being overly busy. This afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. I’m sensing a theme.

Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. The less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid both the waiting and the unknown.

Busy.

Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creative flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”

Deliberate waiting.

During this season of Lent, may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.

God is in the waiting. Embrace God today.

More In The Waiting

My dear friend Amy asked me to attend a concert with her on Saturday night. Bethany Dillon is one of Amy’s musical heroes, so she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear Bethany since she’d been on a two year musical vacation after the birth of her first child.

Bethany opened for her husband Shane (of Shane and Shane). She played a simple song set—I think only four songs—and she talked about the songs that she sang—sharing bits of her story in between the singing—and, well, she was just great. I truly appreciate singer/songwriters who create from the depths of who they are. She is one of those. And I’m really glad I got to hear her play over the weekend.

The last song she played was a new song; it hasn’t been recorded so I can’t link it here or post the lyrics. But I can say this: it was about waiting and it was inspired by the simple statement, “God can do more in our waiting than our doing can do.”

I’ve been thinking about that statement since Saturday night. I like it. I think it’s deeply profound. Yet I’m not exactly sure how it’s to be lived because I’m not exactly sure how to wait without doing. I suppose we shouldn’t do things for the sake of busyness. But doesn’t life—and even call—demand that we do something—even while we wait?

For instance: When I was in high school, I waited on God to show me where I should go to college. But in the waiting, I had to continue with classes, put in applications, and go to interviews. I couldn’t simply stay at home and wait for the mail to arrive and the way to be made clear. In college, I waited on God to show me where I should go after graduation. But in the waiting, I had to do my part to be prepared for life after college. I couldn’t simply live the high life and wait for a position to land in my lap.

So how do we wait on God?

Or is waiting on God not really waiting at all?

Is waiting on God actually the active process of being formed into who we need to be for the next season of our lives?

Is waiting on God actually the process of living?

I don’t know. But I do know this:

I love Psalm 13. I love its honesty. I love the writer’s raw cry of desperation. I love the very real question, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” And I love the ending when the psalmist basically says, “I don’t know how long, God. But I’m gonna keep singing your praises anyway. I’m gonna keep singing and trusting and hoping and loving anyway…because you love me…and I love you.”

And, well, I think that’s how I want to wait.
No…actually….I think that’s how I want to live.