the end

The sun is glowing rose from the snow capped peaks across the water. The ferries are gliding calmly. I should have a camera instead of a laptop, but I’m in my chair and, wonder of wonders, the fireplace is on in Starbucks. December is here once again. It’s time for gingerbread and red cups at my “home by the sea”. All in all, it seems like the perfect day to be writing my final installment of this blog. I have come to the conclusion lately that this piece has come to it’s conclusion. Nearly 5 years have passed since I began basically writing to myself while you all have looked on.
There is a book in the Book of Books called Ecclesiastes. In this book, written by the wise King Solomon, there is a phrase used throughout the centuries that says “there is a time for everything under the sun”. In other words, all things whether bad or good, must come to an end. I began this with two kids in High School and I end it with one married, one engaged, and a beautiful new granddaughter. As this journal has progressed I have added and lost valued family members. While most of you choose to read from a distance, there are also some who have encouraged and even challenged me on various points. It’s all been appreciated.
This piece began as an exploration of whether or not I could ever be an author to any degree. If nothing else, it has given me a greater appreciation of authors and the incredible discipline that is involved with preparing a written work. I have concluded that I do not have that discipline. The fact that it has been increasingly more difficult over the past few months to even write a weekly page has proven that to me.
So while the sun is still shining, the fireplace still crackling, the coffee is still hot and the retired club hasn’t arrived yet, I’ll conclude by expressing thanks for sharing the journey with me. The archives of this blog contain many images and memories. I wish that you could all see the view this morning from where I sit, but perhaps you already have.

parallel

I knew that I had gotten down here later than I wanted when I pulled up across from the beach and there was only one spot left along the curb. That can only mean one thing….parallel parking… not the most enjoyable start to a morning. I handled it quite well this morning thank you. The second clue to my later than desired start was the amount of faces staring out at me from inside the spacious and usually vacant windows. There was a line at the counter and upon finally getting my usual morning kick and turning around I discovered that my usual allotment of chairs were being occupied. Actually I handled all of it quite well, which might be a surprise to those who know me well.
I attribute it to the parking. That might seem odd to those of you who don’t live somewhere that you park sideways more than you park front ways or back ways or long ways or short ways. Some of you haven’t had to park sideways, parallel wise, since your driving test. I envy you sometimes…more now that I have smog belching, fossil fuel consuming, road rage inducing, ozone depleting SUV. Now I have to measure my parking requirements in yards rather than feet and when I can find one, it usually takes the same touch as docking a space shuttle trying to coax my beast into line. Depending on the day, I may be either in the “when at first you don’t succeed” kind of mood or the “shut up and drive away” mindset. Either way, my parking can mirror how my day is going.
This morning, as I’m waiting for my drink, and searching for a seat, and wireless, and headphones, and isolation amidst a sea of retiree’s I can take heart because I mastered the parallel… in one take. Now if I can just apply the same skills inside as I did outside I’ll be alright today. Successful parking is a dance of multitasking. You have to reference yourself around the other vehicles. You have to watch mirrors and curbs and bumpers and pedestrians and dogs, landscaping and an occasional mailbox. You have to guide yourself from a position of being parallel to other travelers to one that is in line with everyone else on the block. The type of vehicle in front and behind you don’t matter. All that should concern you is whether or not your vehicle will fit into the space you are trying to fit it into.
Why people attempt to shove themselves into spots that they have no business in is beyond me. In my opinion, their problem is not skill. It’s an issue of denial. Occasionally I’ll watch someone in their attempt while thinking “you have no business trying to put yourself in there”. Sometimes I am the one. Do you know people like that? People with no reference points and very large bumpers. Some have seemingly no awareness of their surroundings, and worse yet, no regard. I guess that might be why my parking attempts can seem to mirror how my day is going. It’s all too familiar in this living metaphor.
In the end though, what we all need is a place to park. Don’t be fooled into thinking that one size fits all, or that you’ll just make your own with your own efforts or denial. There is one spot… and it was made for you. It might be as easy as pulling into a full size spot with a compact car, but for others, not so much. We might drive around a bit. We might even have to make an opposite side attempt on a one way street, but it’s there for you. We are all created for a spot and a spot is created for us.

leaves

It’s been rumored to be the case for awhile now. I’ve known it and certainly my muscles have known it, but the arrival of a beautiful baby girl has confirmed it. I’m old. I’m a grandpa. Lillian Joy was born 9 days ago as a permanent antidote to denial. I decided that I needed to come down this morning to attempt a readjustment. My chair feels good. The sunlit snowy mountains are amazing in their reflection on the water. The air is cold and so is the fireplace. You can’t have it all I guess. It’s been a crazy month.
We began the month with the adoption of a rambunctious kitten named Lucy who has taken it upon herself to entertain us and make a valiant attempt at living in the memory of a household legend named Sassy. In addition to all of the extra time and focus that goes with my graduate work, I have to make my 8 day pilgrimage to Portland for face to face classes. Two days after returning, Lillian Joy made her appearance which meant that we had our grand puppy Oliver while everyone got to adjust to a new baby. And thus began the week long dance between Lucy and Oliver to negotiate a balance between dog and cat and whom is chasing whom. Add in a life as a pastoral artist with an active community o’ faith and some Halloween fun and I have no idea how 30 days can go by like a Facebook update. I’m exhausted.
So now it’s November and I have a determination to put the brakes on. Although it’s a bit like Fred and Barney trying to stop the Flintstone mobile; I hope my fee hold out. We’ve had some fairly windy days lately and I’ve been watching from my living room window the leaves, all aflame in reds and yellows, trying desperately to cling to their branches for just a few more days. I’m cheering them on. The bare branches that lie underneath are a stark reminder of the winter approaching. The longer the leaves hold on, the more enjoyable the color. Once they lose their grip, they are at the mercy of the breeze and then all bets are off. Today the winds are calm and they have hope for one more day of peace.
Right now, as November begins, the winds are calm for us, and we’re holding on for one more day of peace and enjoyment of the season. It’s not simply the seasons passing quickly that get to me. Seasons represent years and years add gray to my hair. I’d like to slow down enough to accumulate memories along the way. Some days go by so quickly that even a digital camera couldn’t capture them. This begins the season of “Baby’s first everything” and I plan on being alert and attached. I’m just praying for calm winds.

vote

Throughout my time, both as a follower of Jesus, and especially as a leader of other followers of Jesus, I have felt a pressure to engage my beliefs and convictions into the political system. Just as there is a, perceived by some, moral formula to how live my life as a follower, there is also a, perceived by some, moral formula guiding how followers of Jesus should vote.
In my part of the world, as in many parts in the States, there is a political referendum on the ballot this time around of the sorts that can tend to blur the lines of politics and faith. So it goes without saying that well meaning and not so well meaning people on both sides of the issue have distinct views where one should take their moral stand. As a leader of a community of people who follow Jesus, I’ve been asked by other leaders of neighboring faith communities to publicly make a stand in a published letter to the editor in the local print media. That’s a given on any issue of this sort. One side had a specific view on how I personally should vote and how I should “encourage” (ie., coerce, guilt, shame, …) those I lead to vote. The problem is this; there are just as many leaders of Jesus followers who have signed, and encouraged me to sign, a letter stating the total opposite view on the issue. Two groups, two opinions, but one God…. How does this resolve itself?
I’m not an expert, but in stepping back here is what I have concluded. First of all, the issue at hand, as in all of the rest, has multiple sides to it from a faith issue. On one side, we have a life style choice being challenged, and I do feel that the Book of Books does have something to say on the matter. This is not always a popular choice with one camp of people who follow Jesus. On the other hand, I do also feel that the Book of Books has much to say on love and respect and how, as people created Imago Dei (in the image of God) we are all worthy of these things no matter what our opinion may be of choices, one side or the other. This leaves me in a place between, removed from the Christmas card lists of both camps…..whatever.
Here’s the thing…. I am absolutely going to vote. I am absolutely not going to tell anyone how I will vote as a follower of Jesus, nor will I tell them how they should vote. I have been called to lead a group of people into the greater mission of God, far beyond our personal views, country and state objectives, and general moral dilemma of the day. I have not been appointed as a representative or political delegate to the people of my congregation. I am fully aware that this statement in and of itself is enough to gather enough disdain from both sides. That’s fine by me. I have a sign positioned as I leave my office that reminds me to “stand up for what’s right, even if I’m standing alone”. As a follower of Jesus and a leader of followers of Jesus, if I am to be faithful to His teachings contained in the Book of Books, I could lead from either direction. I have always believed that if you can’t win, then you do what’s right. So the best anyone will get from me is the admonition to vote, not from your own self conviction, but with the lead of the best counselor we have, God’s Holy Spirit.

teeter totter

So… inspired by the generous act of a friend, I am back on my blog for a momentary return from self imposed exile. My chair feels wonderful and the view, on what’s likely to be the last sunny day of the season, is gorgeous with the sun coming up rose colored and reflecting off of the mountains. I don’t even remember my last time here and really don’t know when my next will come. I’m heading for Portland tomorrow and a week of wringing out my brain in grad school. By the time I get back, if not before, a granddaughter will be born and then all time will most likely stop. So in the mean time, for one more time, I get to listen to Pandora while chasing this cursor across my screen.
Much has changed in the blur of the past few weeks, I guess it’s good to slow down for an hour and get my bearings again. It’s been one of those “I have no idea where we’re going, but we’re making great time” months in my house. Life, as it should be I guess, has been a combination of the arrival of new things while some old things slip from my grasp. All at once, looking at the inventory, I realize the paradox that some of my life has become. I’m a grandfather and I’m a grandchild. I’m a father and I’m a child. I’m an uncle and I’m a nephew. I’m a student and I’m a teacher. I’m an artist and a piece of art…. or is that a piece of work. I’m a creator and I’m the creation. When I put the list on a screen like this it is easy to see how each of these are an uneasy balancing act. My own personal experience is that I can’t seem to put equal focus on either end of these. One side always is demanding more time and I am frequently sinking on one side and trying to scramble to the other. I’m either teetering or tottering.
The reality of a teeter totter is that you never have equal sides. You are either the bigger kid or at the mercy of the bigger kid. And most of the time, it’s the difference between the two that creates the motion. It’s those fleeting moments, when the balance is reached, where there is rest. They are few and far between. In my personal teeter totter world, sometimes I can just muscle my way to balance just as I would use leg strength to overcome the weight of the big kid on the other end. But sometimes life ends up like a couple of bigger kids piling on and my legs are no longer of use because they are three feet in the air. When that happens I have a choice. I can kick and scream at the wind…. Or I can sit quietly and wait. I hate that. The kicking and screaming only serves to wear me out and I’m usually still hanging up there. Usually, sitting quietly for a period of time will cause the one on the other end to get bored and let me down, sometimes slowly, sometimes by jumping off.
I am finding, after years of kicking and screaming when I’m off balance, the wisdom of quieting myself. “Be still and know that I am God” in the Book of Books has become very real to me of late. Prayer and nothingness, though against every fiber of my being when I am hanging, has the ability to bring balance. I may not make sense, but it works. One way I can find to explain it is that, just maybe, when the bigger issue has you hanging three feet off the ground, prayer and nothingness invites God to join you on the teeter totter. And let’s face it, there certainly is no bigger kid on the playground than Him.

presence part 2

As I was beginning my life transition from an occupier of corporate space to pastoral artist, one of my professors imparted some wisdom which was so subtle it almost was not consciously caught. Not catching this piece of advice would have been tragic for my new life’s calling. Very simply, somewhere in a conversation that I don’t even specifically remember he advised that, for all the academics and theories and scholarly answers, sometimes the best thing that you can do is just to “be there”. In fact I think it was actually “be there and shut up”. How’s that for thousands of dollars of tuition well spent? How many times had I already been told to just “sit there and be quiet” for free? My own kids probably could earn doctoral credit for the amount of times that I shared that bit of wisdom on them.
His voice has saved me and served me on too many occasions to mention. All of those grief experiences that I’ve shared through the years with people; the inexplicable deaths, and the ones we saw coming…wayward children, wayward spouses, natural disasters. When words would have been so idiotic, inappropriate and hollow, silent presence became great wisdom, and apparently valued comfort.
It becomes even more personal as time goes by. I think of what shows value to me. What is an indication that someone is with me? What shows me that someone might value what I value? Undoubtedly it is their presence. A lack of presence communicates that they don’t care. At least in my universe, and after all, that is all that matters…..Whatever. I’m going out on a limb to bring you into the inner circle of pastoral thought. Presence matters. If you are in my community o’ faith, your presence matters. There….it’s out there.
I used to struggle with whether or not it was a measure of my security. Am I just taking this too personally? When I stand up on Sunday morning in front of my community o’ faith and open the book of books, what does it really matter who is there week to week? There is no cosmic attendance being taken. Maybe I just need to get over myself? In the last few weeks, for whatever reason, it’s been magnified. It finally hit me the other day. The reason that it matters so much to me is that presence really does matter. There doesn’t have to be words, presence says it all. Whether it is me showing up at a hospital or whether it is someone in my community o’ faith showing up on Sunday wondering what God has to say about all of this and what we ought to do about it, presence matters. If the same things are valued by a group of people, really good things can result. Not much good comes from apathy, apart from a nice long nap.
It doesn’t solve anything, really. I just realized that there is some justification for my feeling. It does though, reinforce my understanding that I need to renew my effort to just be there for people who need or want presence. Whether it’s in my own professional realm or personal relationship, or yours for that matter; perhaps the best lesson that tuition can buy is to just “be there and shut up”.

pages

Yesterday, being my birthday and a national holiday on top of it, I decided to take the day off from writing…. and most other things for that matter. This morning I am in the comfort of my own chair in what’s become known as my “man cave”. After the calm of the past few days, life is cresting like a wave today. Grad school begins right now as I’m sharing this. There are a dozen last minute details to help my honey with as she prepares the preschool for tomorrow’s start of a new year. Of course there is also the issue of my own role as pastoral artist around here and the fact that I get paid to be one in this community o’ faith. All in all it looks like another 16 hour day lined up, so at 5:30 in the morning, it’s just my coffee, my chair, and my self trying to take a few moments to align my brain with my world.
I’m finding myself this morning in an odd, probably birthday induced, unfamiliar tension between past and future, while trying to focus on the needs of the present. My own personal feelings towards the observation of my birthday can be categorized in various stages throughout my history. There were the early years, when it’s been reported that I cried each time my family gathered and sang to me. I’d imagine that it was more a reflection of their harmony than my own feelings of mortality at that point. As I grew older and my ears grew accustomed to their well intentioned tunes, I , like most children looked forward to these annual celebrations. Somewhere later in high school and continuing into early adulthood, I became ambivalent to the whole process and mostly endured them for the sake of others felt need to celebrate. When I had my own children, I was a bit more enthusiastic because of their obvious desire to celebrate. As they grew older, I have once again become less engaged in the process, except for the occasional milestones like 40 and last years 45.
Except for the occasional selfish feelings of entitlement that I should be able to do whatever I want to on my annual appointed celebration, I haven’t really been affected that deeply during these moments. Oh, certainly, especially on the big ones, I have reflected on where I’m at, where I’ve been, where I might be going….all of the usual thoughts that one has. This year has been different though as, due to the great social networking invention called Facebook, my worlds and eras have collided into one big birthday card. I have shared before that my tendency, as I’ve jetted through the years, has been to close the pages behind me as I’ve passed through each chapter of existence. Each part is neatly packaged behind a section for me to come back to, or not, at my own leisure and convenience. This year, as I’ve received the, more than generous and less than deserved, birthday greetings through the wonder of the internet, all of those pages were opened at the same time, for the first time. I have connection with people from every point of my life including elementary school, all on the same day. It was somewhat overwhelming for someone who has been known for my less than enthusiastic approach to reunions of any sort.
I have, during the last several years, looked at the passing of my birthday’s as being one more year towards being able to do and say whatever the heck I want to. I still look for that magical day when I get to just because “I’m old”. For the time being though, I’m going to enjoy thumbing through the story that God has written with the generous and colorful ink of people in my life.