Did your text message test your patience? Ever need to save face on Facebook? Twitter have you all atwitter?
Messaging is both a blessing and a curse. Personally, I love it. It’s lower pressure than talking. I can respond in my own time. I can craft the message my way, which includes proper grammar, spelling, and punctuation. And most importantly, I can go back and read it when I can’t remember what was actually said. It turns out that I’m not alone. According to statistics: 1) Texting is most used data system in world 2) Texting is the most used form of communication for American adults under 50 3) 33% Americans prefer text to call 4) Here’s one that really got me: The average American spends 23 hours PER WEEK texting So, it’s not just me. The great news is that we are more connected than at any other time in history. Oddly enough though, we feel more disconnected, dissatisfied, and isolated. Is messaging to blame? Not entirely. It’s a far more complicated issue. But relying on messaging as a primary form of communication does contribute to the problem because messages are written. We rely solely on our words to relay our messages. As great as GIFs and emojis are, they don’t make up for important cues like facial expression, body language, and various qualities of voice like tone, volume, and inflection. Missed cues lead to miscommunication. We’ve all had that happen. You send a message and the reply you receive doesn’t fit what you thought you said, especially if it was in jest. If it’s not recognized and fixed it will lead to drama, stress, and potentially eating gallons of ice cream. Messaging is good for information, but if you want connection, you’ve got to talk, either by phone or in person. Arrange the conversation device to device, but have the conversation ear to ear, or face to face. I like to think of the progression alphabetically: D-E-F, Device--Ear--Face. Yes, messaging can be quicker and possibly more comfortable. Phone calls and talking in person can feel like more time and effort. Fortunately, it will be worth the trouble because you’ll have less drama, less time spent trying to fix the problems miscommunication causes, and less need to buy new clothes. Here’s what to do: take a few of those 23 hours per week we spend messaging, and call or meet up. This is especially valuable for our core connections, the people who are closest and most important to us like family, friends, mentors, etc. Try it for a week, then come back and tell us how much less time you spent muttering under your breath and how much less money you spent in the frozen food aisle.
1 Comment
When our older son was learning Kung Fu San Soo we bought him the original 1984 Karate Kid movie. When the scene where all of Daniel’s “training” comes together came on, I pointed it out to him. We marveled at the revelation of the blocking movements he learned, but our son said there was a lesson in the scene far more important than those blocks. “Mr. Miyagi kepts saying, ’Look eye. Always look eye,’” he said. “One of the very first things they teach you is to look your opponent in the eye, never at his hands or feet. If you focus on his hands you’ll miss his feet, and vice versa. If you focus on his eyes, you will be able to see everything you need to in your peripheral vision.” That concept resonated with me. I struggle with focus. One theme, in this season of my life, is keeping all the plates spinning. Be sure everyone is where they need to be, when they need to be, with everything they need and are fed, clothed, clean, and as mentally and emotionally stable as possible. Distraction, or even choosing which plate to focus on, is a constant struggle. Imagine the number of plates Jesus had and how focused He had to be. Without money, power, status, a college degree, social media, and with no fixed address, He had three years to turn twelve knuckleheads (as John Eldredge fondly refers to the apostles) into world-changers. His focus had to be incredible. In John 5:19 He says, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. (NIV) Later in John 12:49 He says, I don't speak on my own authority. The Father who sent me has commanded me what to say and how to say it. (NLT) Oh to be so in the moment, the flow, that you know second by second the best thing to do and say. I can picture Him walking the road from Galilee, stopping to heal blind eyes while blocking and throwing off Pharisees, raising His hands and calmly but firmly parting the angry crowd without even a roundhouse kick or a “hi-YA!” I wonder if Grand Master Jesus wore His tenth-degree black belt under His robes. With focus like that we could deeply and effectively love on those in front of us while pummeling fear, doubt, and worry. It’s certainly something to wax on. #focus #heisnotwhatyouthink #jesusninjathisiknow Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
Once there was a tree…and she loved a little boy. This book has been in my life for literally decades. Always the context has been that this is what unconditional love and self-sacrifice look like. I’m not sure exactly what triggered the realization that it’s a far cry from a healthy relationship, but a quick Google search confirms I’m not the only one who thinks so. A quick synopsis: Tree and boy love each other. Tree gives herself (literally) throughout his life until she has nothing left. Boy takes from tree with nary a thank you much less a thought to tree’s well-being. See what I mean? Unhealthy at the very least. Abusive is closer to what I’m thinking. We’ve been fed this distorted view of love all this time. Yes, Love is unconditional and self-sacrificing, but it’s about far more than making someone happy, especially at the expense of your own health and well-being. It’s helping someone become all they are capable of being, knowing that when they are learning and growing in that way, happiness is a natural byproduct. And so I wondered…if The Giving Tree portrayed a healthier and more complete picture of unconditional love and self-sacrifice, what would the story be? SUMMARY TO THIS POINT: Boy and Tree love each other, but Boy wants more out of life. Tree offers her apples to sell. Boy does so, returning years later. ---------- “Hello, Boy! I am so happy to see you! Did selling my apples bring you money and happiness?” The boy stood, hands in his pockets. “It did for a while,” he admitted. “I sold the apples and bought things, and I was happy for a while, but it hasn’t lasted. I want more.” The tree wanted the boy to be happy. She knew that with his kindness, courage, perseverance, and love for nature, he could do great things, which would make him happier than more things. “Happiness comes from being who you are. When you are the most you, you are the most happy. When in your life have you been the happiest?” asked the tree. The boy thought for a long time. “Here with you, when I would climb and play and eat your apples.” The tree and the boy thought and thought until the boy’s legs and back became tired. He lay down in her shade, and fell asleep. He had a dream. He hadn’t had a good dreamy dream in a very long time. When he woke, he knew what he needed to do. The boy and the tree made a plan. The boy planted some of the tree’s seeds nearby. He fed and watered them until they became saplings. Then the boy went to the schools and talked about his friendship with the tree. He invited some of the children to help take care of the saplings. The children smiled and caught his dream. It became theirs as well. The boy and the children took care of the saplings, and finally they were large and strong. The children climbed their trunks and swung from their branches and ate apples and slept in their shade. And the tree was happy. The boy was happy. The trees and the children were happy. ---------- Love adds instead of subtracts, multiplies rather than divides. It builds. It shares. It wants what is best for all those it loves. And this truer definition of love means trees don’t become stumps and boys don’t grow into lonely old men. Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
I have pads of Post It notes stationed all over the house: several place in kitchen, my night stand, my bathroom, even my car. With so many things going on, creative ideas popping up whenever they feel like it, and my memory being what it is, they are as necessary to my survival as caffeine. The problem is when I have a Post It but not a pen. Or worse, when I have a crappy pen. When I wrote my children’s book a couple of years ago I found a good pen for signing, one that writes smoothly and doesn’t smudge. I bought a box. I liked them so much more than the pens I had been buying, and especially better than most of the ones you receive as advertising. I became a bit of a pen snob. My thoughts were too important, and my handwriting too atrocious, to struggle with crappy pens. So I strategically positioned my preferred pens around the house, where I could find them but my family could not (What’s that? I’m selfish? Sometimes). Slowly though, my pens migrated all over the house, and not by me. Worse, I’m finding crappy pens in their place. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, but it’s really aggravating. You may be reading this and thinking, “Does she seriously think I CARE about her PEN PREFERENCES?” Stick with me, I do have a (ball)point. Here’s the usual scenario: Get brilliant idea. Find Post It pads where I leave them. Start to pick up good pen but it’s not to be found. Wonder where my good pens are as I search through the pile of crappy ones until I dig up a good one, IF one is there. Finally settle for a crappy pen. Start to write down brilliant idea. Stare at Post It. Blink eyes. Rattle brain. Fume at myself for losing the brilliant idea while searching for a good pen. So, I have heretofore banned all crappy pens from my kingdom and domain. Except the ones my husband loves, and those seem to stay in his office. How he does that is beyond me. I bought two boxes of my favorite pens and the crappy pens have been donated to a worthy cause. Do I feel kind of silly? Truthfully, yes. But I consider it an investment in myself. Crappy pens mean lost ideas and sanity. Good pens mean I keep both. Whatever it takes to help me focus. And that’s really the bottom line for me. Why waste my extremely limited time and energy being frustrated by something I can easily and cheaply remedy? Even low level frustration makes me more likely to snap at my family, or at least grumble and complain. Frustration makes it harder to love well. Loving well is worth a few extra bucks for good pens. And reaching for a good pen keeps me from reaching for a sword. Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
I highly recommend a book called Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, by Greg McKeown. I’m listening to it for the second time, but probably not the last. Not only is it immensely helpful but it’s read by the author himself, who is British and has the cool accent. McKeown says, “Essentialism is not about how to get more things done; it’s about how to get the right things done. It doesn’t mean just doing less for the sake of less, either. It is about making the wisest possible investment of your time and energy in order to operate at our highest point of contribution by doing only what is essential.” I’ve greatly considered what my highest point of contribution would be. I’ve come to the conclusion that outside of loving on my family and friends, my highest contribution is communicating through writing and speaking. This is my calling, and what I can best offer the world with my one and only life. In order to maximize my highest contribution, I must minimize, even eliminate, other things that are not essential. This Saturday, my church is hosting its annual Great Giveaway. Church members and attenders gather used clothing and household items and give them away to the local community. Between those who donate items, sort them, carry them into the building, display them, work the tables, make and serve lunch, give haircuts, take family photos, and provide information for other local service providers, there are a LOT of people involved in this act of love to the community. Outside of donating some items, I have never worked this event. The same is true for many other church events. I have felt a little guilty about that. But not anymore. There are many servants in my congregation. To my knowledge I am the only working writer. Those servants love with their hearts and hands at events like the Great Giveaway. I love with my heart and hands through my keyboard with skits, movies, children’s books, blog posts. It’s all love, it just looks different for each one. And, essentially, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Now if I could just type with a cool British accent. Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
Our kitchen table is one of the first things you see when you walk into our house. It was my grandmother’s dining room set, beautiful dark wood and green fabric high-backed chairs. They remind me of her, and I love that I can see and use them every day. With its centralized location and large surface area, the table is a tremendously convenient place to pile mail, bills, papers that need attention, wallets, pocket knives, eye glasses, cell phones, and empty gum wrappers. I’m not entirely sure how piles multiply like fruit flies on wood surfaces, but they do. It stresses me out, and so I have declared the kitchen table to be a Clutter Free Zone. I have designated boxes, in other rooms, for cell phones, wallets, etc, and also for papers, bills, etc. I have asked that they be utilized. Many times. Out of all the living space we have, the table is 24 square feet. That leaves *does math quickly in her head* quite a lot of space for all the clutter that previously landed on the table. If you don’t like my designated places, go find your own. It’s your clutter. I know transitions are gradual and new skills take time to perfect (especially for us older folks), so I’ve tried to be patient and extend grace (sometimes through gritted teeth). The boys and I do pretty well with this new plan. The main battle is with my husband. Unfortunately for us both, it’s a battle I am losing. My reactions to the continuance of kitchen table clutter vary from slightly-annoyed-so-I-nicely-place-the-offending-items-where-they-are-supposed-to-go, to hell-bent-on-destroying-every-item-within-the-area-that-is-not-mine. It’s a respect issue to me. I have asked that something stop happening. I have provided alternatives that are neither difficult to find nor use. I have been patient and extended grace when mess ups happen (although I have been known to be quite vocal about it). Several nights ago, as I was planning my next tirade, a tiny question entered my even tinier mind. Is there any way I’ve been disrespectful, where he has asked me to do something and I’ve not done it? That’s when I felt the 2x12 gouge my cornea (metaphorically speaking, of course). Guilty as charged. I hate when that happens. My husband has asked for us to go to bed earlier. Repeatedly. As in, over a few years’ time. Believe me, I have tried. For some reason my brain capacity, creativity, and energy level seem to surge about 9:30pm, and all of the things I haven’t thought of or done the rest of the day take on a sense of urgency. Shutting them off has proven more difficult than I imagined. I won’t go into all the ways I’ve tried to deal and failed. I could offer them but they’re still excuses. He has asked, I have attempted, but I have largely given up. Speck in his eye: 1 Plank in my eye: 0 So to that end, I can’t complain about address the table until I first address a consistently earlier bedtime. Because *grumbleundermybreath* that’s what love does. So I am, once again, taking steps to get to bed earlier. I’ve learned about the Night Shift feature on my phone, which I’ve told to turn off the stimulating blue backlight at 9pm. I’m changing my self-talk, telling my brain that as the phone’s blue light shuts off at 9pm, so does my brain. If there’s something I need to look up after that, I write a note about it instead of googling it. I’m walking the plank, if you will (see what I did there?). It’s a process, I know, but the past three nights we have gotten to bed earlier, though to varying degrees. I’m focusing on progress, not perfection. I’m being gentle but firm with myself while I make this transition, because honestly we both need a LOT more sleep. And after the bedtime situation is adequately under control, I will turn my attention, gently but firmly, back to the Battle of Kitchen Table. I think my grandmother would be pleased. Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
She hadn’t eaten in days. Not that it mattered because she couldn’t keep anything down anyway. She had known she was getting worse for quite a while but kept hoping it would go away. If she just tried harder, stayed clean, but the disease kept growing. Her friends had been watching her spiral further and further down. In fact, they knew she was sick before she did. If they had still been around, she would have called them, but as soon as they saw the signs of her slipping away, they quietly turned and walked away. She needed to get to the hospital, but she was too weak to get herself there. She knew it might even be too late. Maybe they had been afraid she was contagious, at least that wouldn’t have cut so deeply. But she knew they were more afraid for their own reputations. If they continued to associate with her they would be labeled, judged, and left alone to die as she had been. They chose their “social security” over her soul. They would hear of her demise, for sure. They would drop their eyes and shake their heads, sad that it had come to this for her, but secretly they would be relieved that they didn’t catch it and were safe…for now. ----- When someone sneezes we instinctively back up. Who knows what they might have? We don’t want to catch it and risk spreading it. When someone’s illness is the result of their poor choices, especially when stigma is attached, we raise the threat level. We not only back up, we back away. We notice the warning signs. Maybe we say something to them but probably we don’t. We move back for different reasons, but for all of us, as far as we can without causing undue attention. We don’t want that nasty virus of adultery, addiction, deception. Bad reputations can be contagious. So we let our friends slip on to their own destruction. But that’s precisely when they need us to press in. No matter how inconvenient, unpleasant, or reputation-damaging it is, that’s what Love does. Let’s clarify. We don’t enable or co-depend. We do gather up, carrying the sick and dying to the hospital. We bring the wounded hearts, minds, and souls out of darkness and into Light. Sometimes we need to help clean the wound. Sometimes our prayers and presence are all it takes to motivate. But more often we are called to sit in the filth with our friends and let society’s insults and innuendos fly by. It’s not too late to make the next right decision. ----- A warmth began to fill one of her distant friends, one that slowly, lovingly, overpowered the fear. It wasn’t too late, but it was very close. Her doorway had been dark and empty the past thousand times she’d looked through it. Then it slowly cracked open, and warmth, light, and an unsure smile filled the space. As her friend gathered her up she gave a weak smile. She was going to make it after all. #loveinaction #bethelove #bethelight #makethenextrightdecision Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe.
Off the Cliff The ground gave way underneath her and the phone fell from her hand. Caroline couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He’d lost his job?! The company simply closed its doors with no warning?! She had been out of work long enough that everything was already stretched to the limit. Outstanding medical bills and repairs to their beater of a car, and they had already driven every cent out of their bank account. They were so behind on the mortgage…this just could not be happening. Love Has a Rope Her doorbell rang. Stacy didn’t wait for a response but walked on in. “I just heard,” Stacy said. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. This is unreal.” She sat down on the floor beside Caroline and held her. “I’m here, and I’m with you through all of this. You are not alone.” Love Throws a Rope Stacy had lost everything through a divorce some years ago. She vividly remembered the day she packed her two kids, and everything she could, into her car and headed to the women’s shelter. She, herself, wasn’t in the clear yet but was definitely back on solid ground. She knew the potential uphill climb Caroline and her husband were facing and vowed she would be there in any way she was able. Stacy hadn’t known Caroline back then. Others had buoyed her, encouraging her and providing what she could not for her kids. “I don’t have any financial answers, but I do have life experience and hope. I can help navigate some of the rockier parts of this mountain. I don’t have much to offer, but what I do have is yours,” she said. Love IS the Rope Caroline pulled back from Stacy’s embrace. A strange peace seeped into her heart. “I don’t know how that helps so much, but it does,” Caroline said. Stacy stayed with her that night until her husband made it home. She put a few frozen pizzas in their freezer for when they needed them. She helped make phone calls to creditors. She looked for what was needed and provided what she could. Stacy rallied others just as others had done for her. Accepting the charity of friends and strangers was unfamiliar to Caroline. She was always the one to put money in the offering plate, not the one who needed to take it out. But she recognized that when you are falling, and someone offers, you only have to stretch out your hand and grab the rope. Love always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:7 #bethelove #betherope #loveinaction Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe
I needed a new attitude with this person really badly. I didn’t know if it was them, me, hormones, or the heat wave. I did know that if my heart continued down the road it was on, it would be devastating to our friendship.
I did something I don’t make a huge practice of but has worked for me some in the past. I prayed for guidance, took a deep breath, and opened my Bible at random. Oh dear. Seriously? First Corinthians 13. AKA The Love Chapter. *facepalm* *sigh* Yes, yes, Love above all. Love is patient and kind; not envious, not boastful, not proud, not rude, not self-seeking, not easily angered; keeps no record of wrongs; doesn’t delight in evil; always protects, trusts, hopes, perseveres; and never fails. The greatest thing is love. I got it. *sigh* My friend is patient with me, and kind…not rude or self-seeking….does keep a record of wrongs but doesn’t delight in evil. My friend does protect, sometimes trusts, maybe hopes, maybe perseveres a little. “How about you?” Me? I’m awesome at loving this person! I’m patient and kind…most of the time. Okay, maybe I’ve slacked off in that a little. I’m not envious, boastful or proud, except, maybe, when I’m right. I’m not rude. Well, there was that one time. But other than that… I’m not sure I like where this is going. “You do still love that person. You’ve just forgotten how. Their love for you is as imperfect as yours is for them. Love that they try. Notice the little things. You are called to be a messenger of My Love. You need to know how to do it and do it well. It will make all the difference. Go and ponder My Love today and I will handle everything else.” Okay. Love my friend as well as I can and always try to love better. Hmmm. I wonder what the chances are that they’ve read First Corinthians 13 lately… Never mind. Lord, I’ve been banging my head here for hours. I have nothing to say.
Talk about My love. My love for you. Ummm…can You be more specific? Talk about… How I’m always here for you even when you can’t hear me. Even when you can’t see or sense. Like right now. You may be blinded, unable to sense anything, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here. Bad things happen to you that if you could vote you’d have voted differently. You vote by the choices you make, but even if you choose perfectly, bad things do happen. Every person on the planet experiences this. Everyone has bad things. I’m with them in it all. And that’s the key word here: WITH. I’m not far away, yelling directions at you like a drill sergeant. I’m in the fray, the rat race, even the darkness, WITH you. You can’t perceive the air you breathe, the oxygen that fills your lungs, and it’s the same with Me. I’m as close as you want Me to be, as close as you will let Me be. I can fill your heart, mind, spirit. The oxygen of My Spirit flows and encompasses every cell you have. Tell them I love them. Tell them I’m not what they’ve been told. They believe lies about Me. I created everything good, and everything to be good. I gave My life to save them. My Spirit goes throughout the earth to encourage and communicate. Tell them I am Love. I am Truth. I am Comfort, Peace, Joy. I am the source of every good thing in their lives. I am the most solid and stable thing in the universe. If they would return to Me I would heal them. Tell them all of this. I’m going to lose at least part of my audience…and I know that sounds selfish and wimpy but I’m being honest and it’s what I’m thinking. They have the choice whether to listen or not. But you have to tell them in order for them to make the choice. Free will is the riskiest decision I made when I created mankind. But it’s not love if it’s not a choice. I want their love. But they have to choose Me. I’ve made it as obvious as possible. I made Nature beautiful and balanced. All of Nature reveals Me. I made salvation as easy as possible: Repent, be baptized, confess with your mouths Jesus is Lord and believe in your hearts I raised Him from the dead and you’ll be saved. That’s it. Open the door and I’ll come in. Life won’t be easier. It may even get harder, but it will be worth it. They need to know. They need to hear it from you. Because you know, better than many, how deep and wide and long and high My love is. Some will listen to you because you have demonstrated it. Some will not listen no matter what you do. But tell them anyway. It looks like You just did. #bethelove #heisnotwhatyouthink #Godlovesyou ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thank you for reading, sharing, and commenting. If you’d like to receive these posts and updates in your inbox, please head to the Contact Page to subscribe. |
Applying nature's principles and systems to personal and cultural development.About CommentsI love to read comments and know how my work is helping you. Please respond with your first AND last names. Anonymous comments will not be read and may be deleted.
Archives
July 2022
Categories
All
|