Month: July 2014

There’s Purpose in Now

The night’s getting late, so I don’t have time to beat around the bush with this very random mid-summer thought: winters in the midwest are rough. Especially the past several in Northern Indiana. It kind of makes my stomach turn even writing about this right now–in late July–with crickets chirping and fireflies glowing outside my office window.

There’s obviously nothing that can be done about the weather, so it’s fruitless and wasteful of time/energy to gripe about it. But this year was pretty miserable. What made it most…traumatic…was not so much the degree of cold and gloom, but the longevity of cold and gloom. By February, anyone breathing and feeling in the local population I reside is generally over it and ready for warmth and longer days with sun involved.

So when snow is falling down and piling up en masse throughout March and April, the pain cycle is very much in effect: Immobilization turns into denial. Denial becomes anger. Anger into depression. Some people never even get to acceptance…and move to Texas (Hi Mom and Dad).

For example, in late March, amidst mountains of snow in the parking lots throughout my hometown, below freezing temperatures, and a barrage of school and office closings, scores of high school and college students will return from their spring break trips in heavenly Key West, Cancun, San Diego, etc. Hit the mall some Saturday afternoon during this time of year and you’ll know spring break had just wrapped because it’s a walking sea of sun-kissed skin, beach-bleached hair and shorts-wearing. A PacSun with skinny, teen legs.

Oh, did you catch the ‘shorts-wearing’ thing?

Thirteen degrees outside with snowflakes the size of throw pillows, falling sideways from the Oh-I’m-going-to-lose-my-face freezing wind.

The situation is this: these kids–understandably–have just experienced a glorious climate for five to seven days somewhere not in Indiana and they’re now ready to experience a glorious climate back home. So they dress that way. Even in a markedly un-glorious season, where short-wearing outside the home or gym is nothing but physiologically regrettable.

When I watched this spectacle most recently, I thought: No matter how badly these kids want Northern Indiana to be warm, dressing for ‘warm’ wasn’t going to make Spring come any faster. They could wear short-sleeves all day in attempts to will the next season into existence, but until the current season’s over, they are only going to be miserable.

The concept of “seasons” has been particularly important for me to understand, identify and accept over the past few years. I’m learning to accept and respect the famous verse in Ecclesiastes about seasons and how they are all made beautiful in their own time. Not mine. Not anyone’s.

Over the past few years, I’ve sat in a couple of very painful seasons where I’ve had to live through hurt I’ve caused others (most notably to the extent of it ultimately leading to a very painful divorce), the hurt I’ve had placed on me, tremendous loss, loneliness, sadness, shame and guilt. I’ve wanted to do anything and everything to get out of those unpalatable places.

And I certainly tried. I hoped for and pursued more-than-platonic relationships with women; I tried keeping myself super busy (distracted?) with friends and activities; I poured myself into work and expected the fruit of a healthy income to pacify my voids. But I’d get into those things and realize–not only are they not giving me what (I think) I want, but they’re actually slowing me down from getting to the place my heart longs to be.

Not unlike the shorts-wearing kids in the mall, just because I was doing certain things to push a season along, those things didn’t force the next season to arrive any sooner.

In his book, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Peter Scazzero writes:

I prefer the notions of seasons to stages when describing our life in Christ. We don’t control the seasons; they happen to us. Winter, spring, summer, and fall come to us whether we like it or not.

I tend to believe that the season I am currently in is a product of the season I came out of. And the season I am heading into (at some point) will be the product of the events — good, bad or otherwise — happening in the present. And though my decisions can sometimes affect the timing of my personal seasons, God’s best timing really is up to him (Act 1:7).

**As stated earlier and maybe a caveat to what Scazerro says above, I do believe if I can do things to slow down the process, when I’m living by my own desires/perceived needs and getting off the path that really would get me to where God wants me to go more directly. This is also why I’ve come to believe everything happens for a purpose–for what it was created to do or be. There are tons of things I do daily that are not purposeful, but a choice.**

This blog is named A Salient Season because one of the most critical things I’ve learned (especially over the past couple of years) is the importance of knowing there is purpose and value in every season of our lives. Salient means “notable, crucial, important, essential, vital, pivotal” and if we see the current place that we’re in as those things–preparation for our NEXT place–it’s a lot easier to not only take this time more seriously and intentionally.

And relax.

I’ve mentioned James 1:4 in previous posts because it’s a remarkably refreshing and inspiring promise to me: “Let endurance and steadfastness and patience have full play and do a thorough work, so that you may be [people] perfectly and fully developed [with no defects], lacking in nothing. (AMP)”

Patience isn’t exactly a great time when we’re ready to move out of an undesirable situation; but to know that a loving God who delights in us far more than we delight in ourselves is making things beautiful in his time (not ours) should be at least somewhat soothing. Especially when we look at it the way I just did.

Who knows what the next season looks like. It could be warm, cozy and sunny. Or it could be an even worse storm. Either way, what we are doing with what we have and where we are now is preparing us for where we’re going, later. And I have to believe (after trying and coming up short on a variety of other alternatives) that our decision to endure, trust, hope (I Cor. 13:7), pray, serve and wait now — without a self-mandated timeframe — will adequately (fully) prepare us for whatever lies ahead.

 

Intro to Business-Minding

“Can we talk?”

“Call me when you get a minute.”

“I need to chat with you about something.”

It’s probably the case in countless forms of relationships, but in my particular industry–where people talk…a lot–if you want to get someone’s heart rate up to P90X levels immediately, you send them a text or an email with one of those lines above.

If it’s a mystery why receiving an ambiguous message like, “We need to talk” from anyone your in relatively close association with is even slightly stomach-turning, 1) I wish I was you; and 2) this particular post might hold little relevance to you.

But I have to believe 95…97% of humans in modern western society can attest that the impulse evaluation that runs through our heads upon reception of that message (after “Crap.”) is: “What did I say?”and “Who did I say it to?”

I tend to default to a guilty conscience in these situations. Why? Because I know my heart. And my heart is deceitful above all things and it convinces me more than I’d like to admit that talking about so-and-so’s job loss or revolting breath will serve beneficial to me.

A couple of days ago, a good friend of mine had a great dialogue where some super-healthy confrontation (I Cor. 13:6-7) and confession (James 1:9) was involved. I shared with him an observation that there comes a point in almost every conversation where someone’s name is brought up in the form of some kind of judgement. Sometimes passive observation. Sometimes fairly harsh judgement. But what I realized over time is that: A) I didn’t like the way I felt about myself after those conversations; and B) I felt unsafe being 100% transparent and myself with him because, if we’re talking about everyone else, what’s stopping him from talking about me to others (and vice versa)?

I often share with others that no one ever walks away from a gossip feeling good. No one walks away from a person who’s spreading poison about someone else (and if it’s any content that shed anything but positive light on the person being discussed–especially when they’re not present in the conversation–it IS poison), and thinks “I’m really encouraged by that conversation.”

I had a revelation that my motive for habitually bringing up other’s business with my friend ultimately came down to this: I didn’t feel like I had anything else of value to bring to the table for him. I lacked the creativity, the gumption, the thoughtfulness to offer seed into the relationship that could grow good fruit.

There’s a 3×5 note card on my desk that outlines some of my favorite scripture, 1 Thessalonians 4:9-12:

Love one another.
Aspire to lead a quiet life.
Mind my own business.
Work with my own hands.
This leads me to lack nothing!

The charge? Love each other.

The tactics involved? Live quietly and peacefully. Mind my own business. Deal with my own work, with my own hands.

The result? I’ve got all of what I need. No lack of self-worth. No lack of a sense of approval/desirability. No lack of clarity. No lack of purpose–in conversation, in direction, in relationship.

I read this note card at my desk every day and often think through these objectives. And still, I sometimes fall into the slippery slope of unlovingly not minding my own business that plays, I think, a significant role in slowly eroding a relationship that leaves much to be desired over time.

It was such a relief to have that conversation with my friend; getting it out into the open and growing with him rather than staying stagnant, or worse, kind of decaying.

***There’s lots I want to say about aspiring to lead a quiet life. For instance, how social media is often essentially the opposite of this aspiration. But that’s a big rabbit trail that deserves it’s own highway/post.***

Another friend of mine who’s a writer has a great tendency to explore words and dig deeper into their definitions, so I suppose that habit is rubbing off on me because I wanted to look up the actual definition of “minding my own business.” Particularly, the word “mind”:

Mind: to regard as important; to feel concern about; be obedient to

Minding my own business is to be obedient to MY business. To feel concern about MY business. To regard MY OWN business as important.

When I’m not being obedient to my own business because I’m being obedient (a slave?) to someone else’s business, things get…out of control. And when I’m out of control, that’s why I get nervous. Because I’m leaving myself (and, sometimes more tragically, others) unprotected.

That’s why the wisdom in Proverbs regarding gossip is so accurate. And necessary for full, sane living and loving.

“He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin.” – Prov. 13:3 (NIV)

“A gossip betrays a confidence; so avoid anyone who talks too much.” – Prov. 20:19 (NIV)

I read these and I get kind of chill-ish because I have rich history of talking too much and speaking rashly — and have full capability to do so again — yet, the consequences are so painful. Betrayal of a confidant and ruin. Man…not worth it.

Many people like myself get away with gossip far more than I’m confronted by it from the person/people I exposed. But that’s on the outside.

On the inside, I’m missing things. I’m jumpy and insecure because I could have said something that was legitimately hurtful to someone, and it’s totally possible at any point that information will circle back to me, painfully. And on the inside, I’m not trusting that God is bigger and more real than my desire to share someone else’s business. Which certainly isn’t pouring life into me. It’s ruining things. If not now, certainly down the road.

I’m grateful for the gifts the Holy Spirit gives those who listen to him, so we can avoid those paths. So we can encourage confidence and pour life into relationships and hearts (including our own), rather than tear relationships apart and blow up life.

It’ll be a great day (and I fully expect it will come) when I can receive a “Can I call you quick?” text from a friend and not want to throw up. Because I’m choosing to love well, mind my own business and lack nothing.

Put down the phone and watch the ninja

As a father to a pair of vibrant, young children, it’s not often I’m around them that they’re not asking for my attention. In fact, as long as they’re outside of alpha state sleep, they are guaranteed to have a request or proposition for me of some sort. Even if they’re not asking it this second, they’re working on something. A demand…is coming.

You know how when you drive a brand-new car off the lot, its value automatically decreases from 100% to 80% (Yeah, I’m making those numbers up)? My joke is, when the kids walk through my front door as I’m finishing up a day of work, even if my energy level’s at 100% at 4:59 p.m. (which is never), their mere, exuberant act of crossing the threshold into the house at 5:00 p.m. — therefore co-occupying my general vicinity — automatically zaps me down to, like, 70%.

 
It’s interesting that, even when I miss them and they’re back in my physical space, I have these moments when I quickly and urgently want to escape them. Kids are a lot. Especially in plural form. And if you’re raising them by yourself, you know that it’s especially taxing when Kid ‘A’ wants to hunt for toads and/or play football, while Kid ‘B’ is imploring me to help put the underwear back on her doll. Again. (Rhetorical question(s): Why does she keep taking them off in the first place?? Why the underwear and not shoes or sun dress? And why do doll-makers build the bodies in a way where the clothier must contort legs and feet in super-awkward Cirque du Soliel positions in order to put on the underwear…while his daughter’s watching?)

So, typically, when I come down with a (perfectly human) urge to withdraw for a bit of fresh air, I acknowledge a few options:

A) Stay in the mix and engage with the kids.

B) Stay in the mix and disengage with the kids.

C) Slip away for a period of time into another part of the house/property.

It probably goes without saying that Option ‘A’ is the best. The hardest…still, the best. There’s some “take up your cross” involved, but beyond even that, the time, the attention, the patient (I Cor. 13:4) EYE CONTACT — I’ll get to that more in a minute — is the best tangible measure of my love for them.

One thing…alright, two things…I’m sure of as a parent of young children: They’re never going to say this: “We’re all good over here, Dad (or Mom). Relax. Go check your email. Make some coffee and catch up on that list of Netflix documentaries.” And also, Parents need breaks. Which is why Option ‘C’ is OK. To be sure, kids can stand to play on their own — and also straight-up deal with their boredom — for a time period. Though, I’ll admit, it’s a fine line between taking a 10-minute break and a 180-minute break, sometimes. Time away from “parental mode” can be a slippery slope that can easily become more about laziness than about recharging. If you’re a stay-at-home mom and the kids are taking care of themselves for 3 hours, that’s awesome. But as a single dad who spends only every-other-day with my son and daughter, three hours is a huge chunk of valuable time that’s lost if I’m simply getting away because I don’t feel like being present.
What’s decidedly not OK is Option ‘B’. I see this played out by parents, constantly. And I do it often, myself. It’s a borderline classic situation for most parents my age. You know, when the Boy wants to show us his ninja trick in the backyard with his bow-staff (a stick) and karate headband. He assumes his position, waits for eye contact that confirms his audience’s attention and commences a series of flips, kicks and twirls across the lawn. It’s a ten-second performance, but what happens to us during that time? Our hand finds our pocket, which happens to be housing our phone, which serves as a portal into the “lives” of hundreds of different people’s current activities on display via social media outlets. And by the time the routine is wrapped and the ninja warrior composes himself for his reward (applause and encouragement), we’re locked into a screen, absorbing the activities of others. People doing cool, exemplary things like: Taking a walk. Eating. Watching their baby lay there. Photographing their just-not-attractive feet on a beach.

People who don’t matter to us nearly as much as the child ten feet away. But occupy our attention anyway.
I describe this somewhat hypothetically, but it’s an act I’ve been guilty of, way more than twice. There have been moments during legit playtime when I decided it was more important to respond to an email than ANYTHING ELSE. My kids–holding me to my end of the bargain that we are playing–will literally hang on my arms for my attention as I determinedly knock out a work email. Do I know that there are a couple of 45 pound children hanging on me? Of course. Do I realize that we are in unspoken agreement that this is our time to interact and play together? For sure. Do I care at the moment? Not enough to not do what I want to do. And what I want to do is write out this email that could most definitely wait until the next morning.

Yet, wow, does it make my heart hurt when I’m at the playground and see a dad absentmindedly swinging his child on the swing with his head bent down and eyes fixed on a screen. Or when a little girl is spinning round and round, making her dress twirl, glancing her father’s way to see if he’s watching her. And he isn’t.

There have been some sobering moments as a parent when I was verbally telling my son “We ARE playing!” while he’s watching me scroll and type on my phone. He looks at me, he looks at my phone and something in his eyes communicates with resignation that, if it’s a battle between him and my phone for my attention, he’s never going to win. I’m telling him we’re playing, but my actions are screaming way louder than my words.
To my knowledge, there haven’t been any studies yet on “Parents with smartphones and the direct affect on children therein,” but if/when such information is researched, I’m kind of afraid to know the results. I suspect it’ll be documented evidence of children who grew up experiencing loads of abandonment and neglect, but also witnessing an unhealthy dependency between their parents and an inanimate object that somewhat literally controlled their lives. And that’s only scratching the surface of the passing down of self-centeredness (“Look what I’m/we’re doing! Look at me! Listen to me! Be jealous of me!”) and performance-oriented-ness (“Do something cute! Be impressive to my social media followers!”).

So, my resolve? Take Facebook off my phone. Take Twitter off my phone. Take Instagram off my phone. It took 10 seconds to take care of a big problem — deleting the apps. If I want them back later, when the kids are away, it takes 30 seconds to reload them. It’s been over six months since I’ve had Facebook or Twitter apps on my phone at all. Do I still check my phone out of pure habit, even if there’s nothing to check? Yes. Do I still reload Instagram sometimes, even if the kids are around? Sometimes. But sometimes, the simple steps necessary to reload the apps give me enough time to pause and question if this is really the best decision at the moment.

My other resolve? Look them in the eye. They’re not always going to want my attention. In fact, soon enough, they’re going to only want me to leave them alone. So, from start to finish, I’m going to make sure my kids know I’m watching them. I’m going to look them in the eyes at the beginning and I’m going to look them in the eyes at the end. I’m going to literally get on their level and assure them that I’m watching. That I care. That they are, without a doubt, the champions of my attention.

This is not laborious. But it isn’t exactly natural, either. How often do we spend lots of time with the people closest to us and never really look them in the eye? Even with people we share living space with? I can only imagine the sense of satisfaction my son and daughter feel when I watch them dance; when I actively listen to their joke or story–from start to end; when I thoroughly admire their chalk drawings on the driveway.

And, for real–these simple parenting decisions make a difference. I see it in their disposition. In the way they want to crawl in my lap. To be closer. Not because they want my attention, but because they love me. Because they experience my love (attention) toward them. Again, it isn’t always that way and it won’t always be this way as they grow older. But I notice it now and I’m learning to cherish those moments when I see elements of a grateful heart in my children. Simply because I put everything else away and made them my priority. Hopefully, it’s training them to relate to others–including their own children–the same way (Prov. 22:6).

I’ve never stepped away from time on social media and thought, “I’m so glad I spent that time on Facebook.” But those intentional moments when I’m 100% in with my kids? That’s gold.