Author Archives: Life is For Living book

If I Had a House

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I cannot see myself being house-proud and obsessed about whether things look squeaky clean or fashionable.  I would want my house to be a place of rest and joy, where anyone could be comfortable and not worry about disturbing a fussy display, nor have to pick cat hair out of  the cake. (There wouldn’t be a cat.) I would want it to be a place of encouragement and warmth and simplicity.

But if I owned a house, and could paint and decorate according to my whims, I would most certainly, definitely have a wall like this where every guest would write something they’re thankful for when they come, or before they leave.  They could choose the color marker they want, and draw a picture instead of write a word. Really, I understand children’s compulsion to write on walls. They’re such wide, open places with endless possibilities.

I would want a wall that no one could pass without having their routine tweaked a little bit. Because nothing is easier than complaining, and giving thanks takes effort. We need something tangible to remind us that to be thankful is to live honestly, to acknowledge a giver, to admit we are unbelievably rich, to help each other remember that lament is also worship.

color- hot soup- warm scarves-big mugs-hugs and wet kisses from my niece and nephews last wkend-students and friends who call the best from me–these words I would write on that wall today.

 

A Book Giveaway

Posted in My Book by

Just to say–one of my oldest, bestest friends is giving you a chance to get a copy of my book on her xanga site.

She’s not old, it’s just that she and I just go back a long way. I’ve  blogged about her before here and here and here. The thing that amazes me when we get together or talk on the phone is how either of us gets a word in edgewise, but somehow it works. We can even be quiet together. But rarely. We’re generally pretty noisy.

So if you want to have a chance at winning a book for yourself or a friend, have a go there. And yes, well, she says some nice things about me, which is awfully kind of her.

I’m glad she’s doing this giveaway because  I’m not thinking about my book much right now. What I’m thinking about is the incredible gift of meeting Philip Yancey last Saturday. He’s my absolute favourite writer, and the wonderful day deserves a blog post. Sometime.

I’m not sure if I’m a writer, because ‘wroter’ seems to be more accurate: I wrote a book once. I dream of writing another book, hopefully in the next ten years, just because I love the experience. I love the research, the playing with words, rearranging them to make them work. But for now, I have one book finished, and you have a chance to win a copy.

Even Teachers Need Teachers

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When I attended a weekend seminar on depression, I wondered where the main speaker went for advice. Where does the counselor go for counsel? He had so much wisdom and experience to give, and I respect him so much that I almost put him on an unfair, high pedestal. But of course he’s human, and needs input from other people.

Then when I trained to become a massage therapist, I started wondering where does the therapist go for therapy?

I don’t know how our present generation compares with former ones. I only know that me and my peers tend to think we’re pretty well-informed on every subject, and we can spout off ideas and opinions, and we think the world owes us an audience. I think it’s partially connected to the narcissistic behavior we can adopt on blogs and social media.

That said, we do have good things to learn from each other. We CAN build up each other, inform, teach, advise.  At the same time, I want always to be able to listen, to be taught, to know my own mind but to acknowledge that my perspective is limited and even flawed.

Every counselor needs a counselor. Every therapist needs a therapist. And EVERYone needs a mentor.

My mentor is a wise lady who, several years ago, asked me a pivotal question that changed my life direction.  She’s a gift because I didn’t go out to look for her. She saw me and pursued me and even when she saw how ugly and messed up I was, she didn’t cringe or flinch. I don’t live near her, but at least a couple times a year, I email her with my current questions and issues. She answers with insight and calmness that heals me like little else does. And she keeps me from being dependent on her, because she keeps pointing me to God and what He’s up to.

When I’m afraid that I’m using her, she reminds me that God uses people to help people, and that she wants to hear back from me.

I say this here because EVERYone needs someone like this in their life. You might have to ask someone to be your mentor. You might have to make the first move, and tell someone that you really need them to give you perspective and advice on your big issues. And don’t kid yourself–you’ve got issues. If you don’t think you do, ask yourself why you got so angry the last time someone disappointed you. Or why you heard yourself talking to/thinking about your co-worker or sister or boss in a less-than-loving way.

I’m not talking about slotting into the touchy-feely world where you only think about your feelings and experiences. You can give, and give well, but you can never know so  much or have so much experience that you don’t need others to help you.

My old wrinkly-faced friend Pepita used to tell me, “The day you stop learning, your toes curl up.” She was over 90, so she should’ve known.

No Ordinary People

Posted in life, Poland by

Last week as I walked the old streets of Warsaw, I tried not to gape at the sharp, intelligent-looking people who strode past me. I felt like a country mouse, agog at the stylish, cultured clothes, the confident walking through gateways, the luxuriant lingering at lunch. Understated. Classy. Artsy. There were all kinds, and I loved watching them.

I caught myself thinking, “Wow, what cultured, classy people live in Warsaw.”

Later, I wondered if that was a fair assessment. I’m thinking out-loud here, and maybe I’m wrong, but I think it’s not fair or right to judge what a person’s personality is, who they really are,  by how they dress. The classy, got-it-together appearance can hide a falling-apart soul. Just as an out-of-fashion, homely appearance can veil a sparkling, keen heart and unsung talents.

I maintain that clothes reveal a person’s priorities, and not who they really are. Ok, admittedly, some of this is about me, because I don’t want people to judge me according to what I wear. I don’t like to spend a lot of time thinking about how I look, and a photo session can put me in a funk for awhile. Like most women, the times I believe I’m beautiful are rare and fleeting.

I have often seen people look askance at my veil and dress, and on good days, it makes me pity them because they don’t know what I nice friend I could be to them. =)  On bad days, their disapproval makes me want to hide. But generally, I don’t mind, because my priorities are serving my God by following His standards and wanting His approval for my decisions, plus I sort of like doing things that make people ask questions.

We are human, and we only see the outside, so that is what we quickly assess and judge. But maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should keep asking for Jesus’ eyes to see people as they are, to see their hearts. I think it is usually possible to see a person’s heart by what they reveal in their eyes . It takes time and gentleness and care. And if we don’t have the luxury of spending time with a stranger, we should at least give them the benefit of the doubt, and believe that, no matter how they appear, they are, in C.S. Lewis’ words, “never ordinary: you have never talked to a mere mortal.”

Nations, cultures, arts, civilization–these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, exploit–immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. –Lewis

How to Serve Singles

Posted in life, recommendations, singleness by

Carolyn McCulley, author of several books and blogger at Radical Womanhood, was recently asked to write a guest post for John Piper with advice to leaders on how to serve singles. Although it was written especially for pastors, I think it’s applicable to anyone in the church who wants to serve their spiritual family.

I’m sharing the main points of the post, and a brief parts of their explanations. Do yourself a favour and read the whole post.

You are not shepherding a dating service — wait, yes you are.

Churches should have a high view of marriage and uphold it without apology. But church leaders also need to recognize that when marriage is devalued in our culture, that brokenness comes into the church, too.

The church should be proactive about facilitating what God prizes in Scripture. That said, there’s a huge difference between being nosy busybodies and facilitating relationships among single adults.

Marriage is not the ultimate prize.

While I believe all churches should prize marriage and family, I also believe we have to be careful about the unintentional messages potentially conveyed about marriage and family. Both are gifts for this life alone.

The Singles are actually unmarried men and women.

It’s important that unmarried men and women are discipled as men and women and not a generic lump of singleness. Unmarried men and women are no less masculine or feminine because of being single.

Single men need leadership responsibilities.

When church leaders ask unmarried men to take on significant responsibilities, they demonstrate a belief that godly singleness is a tremendous asset to the Body of Christ.

Single adults are not workhorses.

Understand the challenges of endless opportunity.

A wise pastor once told a singles group that because he was a pastor, father, and husband, the boundaries of his day were fairly well-defined from the moment he woke up. He knew his responsibilities and the priorities given to him by God and he didn’t have to spend a lot of time deciding what he was supposed to do. But single adults can think they don’t have those same clear priorities and can be tempted to drift through their days.

Single men trust God by risking rejection and single women trust God by waiting on him.

Encourage single men and women to read Ruth. Not because it’s a matchmaking book (it’s really not), but because we all tend to be like Naomi. We survey our circumstances and think we know exactly what God is doing. . . or not doing.

Don’t be afraid to challenge bitterness.

Extended singleness is a form of suffering.  Don’t minimize the cumulative years of dashed hopes for unmarried adults.

That said, we single adults need loving challenges when we have allowed a root of bitterness to spring up and block our prayers to God, our fellowship with others, and our service to the church. Deferred hopes cannot be allowed to corrode our thankfulness for the gift of salvation.

It’s not self-improvement, it’s others-improvement.

Too often our advice to unmarried adults stems from worldly thinking that infects us all. We give advice to improve and equip the unmarried adult to attract better relationships, rather than reminding them they are stewards of whatever relationships they have been given.

It’s not whether boy gets girl. It’s whether we can look Jesus in the eye and say, “Thank you for the time you gave me with this person. I did my best to encourage and pray for this individual while I knew him/her. I loved without fear of loss because I wanted to be like you. So by your grace, I did my very best to build up this man/woman and return him/her to you with thanks for the gift of this relationship.”

I don’t see my blog becoming a place to discuss singleness because, although I have experience there, it’s not the only thing that defines me and my interests. Still, I have a voice to singles, and an ear for young single ladies. With that in mind, I recommend that single women read this post, “Why Pray for a Husband?” also by Carolyn. It’s one of the  most succinct, honest, wise articles I’ve seen on the subject.

Peace and Pieces

Posted in life, teaching English by

“Here I am, rushing around, but you’re so peaceful.”

“You give me peace and energy.”

Completely separate from each other, two friends told me these words in one day.

Later in the week, I had an English lesson with a new student for the first time. We were telling each other about ourselves, and I said that I am not a nun even though some people think I am when they see my veil. Further, I love the Bible and Jesus–that Jesus is my hero, and I try to live like He did. Except that when I hear myself say that, I cringe because it sounds so audacious.

Then my student volunteered an observation: “I like how you are happy when you talk about Jesus. I think it should be this way. Most people look angry and sad when they are in church. That’s why I don’t go anymore.”

It seems to me that those conversations and observations are connected. I am not by nature placid or serene. There are many things that deeply distress and anger and unsettle me. I don’t live in utopia; my life is wonderful but not perfect or without storms.

The peace my friends saw wasn’t something I concoct.  Which is a good thing because otherwise it would be limited to about as long as my cup of coffee lasts in the morning.  The best thing about  God’s peace is that it’s beyond, higher than, and superior to logic. It’s something I can’t put words to, can’t explain, can’t even quantify except to say that it’s bigger than anything around me–anything that would otherwise discombobulate me.

What my friends see as peace is actually like me being wrapped in a thick fuzzy blanket. I think it has something to do with Jesus being my hero. He keeps me from going to pieces.

Excerpts from ‘The Yearling’

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Not being so fond of animals, I never considered picking up The Yearling. I wasn’t interested in a story about a deer.

But my friend recommended it to me after she read it, and she was right. I loved it. It’s much more than a story about a deer. It’s about people struggling in harsh surroundings.  It addresses loss and grief, love and loyalty, and how each colorful, real character responds to those. It even has a wandering sailor character, which made me smile.

Several places in the book made tears creep out of my eyes. I still don’t like the inevitable ending, and when the most dreadful thing happened at the end, I skimmed over it because I didn’t want to know the details.

Like all good stories, it gave insight to how people think and feel and talk and respond to life.  I think that’s why I liked the story so much. It seemed so real. Simple, but deep, and beautifully honest.

I laughed aloud when Jody threw a potato at a girl and his dad lectured him. His justification: “I jest hate her. She made a face at me. She’s ugly.”

“Well, son, you cain’t go thru life chunkin’ things at all the ugly women you meet.” I don’t know why that advice made me laugh.

This is from gentle, wise Mr. Baxter’s prayer when they were ready to bury Fodder-Wing, the crippled boy:

…Now you’ve done seed fit to take him where bein’ crookedy in mind or limb doesn’t matter. But Lord, hit pleasures us to think now you’ve done straightened out them legs and that pore bent back and them hands. Hit pleasures us to think on him, movin’ round as easy as ary one. And Lord, give him a few red-birds and mebbe a squirrel and a ‘coon and a ‘possum to keep him comp’ny, like he had here.  All of us is somehow lonesome, and we know he’ll not be lonesome, do he have them leetle wild things around him, if it ain’t askin’ too much to put a few varmints in Heaven. Thy will be done. Amen.”

Then the Baxter dad and son went home. The dad was talking about the burial to his stern wife who’d buried five babies:

He said, “I never seed a family take a thing so hard.”

She said, “Don’t tell me them big rough somebodies took on.”

He said, “Ory, the day may come when you’ll know the human heart is allus the same. Sorrer strikes the same all over. Hit makes a different kind o’ mark in different places. Seems to me, times, hit ain’t done nothin’ to you but sharpen your tongue.”

She sat down abruptly.

She said, “Seems like bein’ hard is the only way I kin stand it.”

He left his breakfast and went to her and stroked her hair. “I know. Jest be a leetle mite easy on t’other feller.”

Look Over My Shoulder

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It’s a most delicious, replete feeling: I don’t need anything right now, so I can even keep away from second-hand shops. Except that it’s nice to look at the books. Several in town have English books, and recently I found The Boy in Striped Pajamas.  Which is a good read even if it’s an awful, sad story, so of course I bought it for one zloty.

You can always use more books. And chocolate.  I can, I mean. Right now my reads are: A Meal with Jesus  as well as The Yearling, and always, interspersed at odd times so as not to get too tired of it: Polish grammar and vocabulary.

Recently it was The Secret Life of Bees for the umpteenth time. I’ve recommended that book to probably 100’s of  people. Someone took me up on it once and then asked me how I could read something that had so many swear words in it. I don’t know. I don’t remember any swear words. But maybe if you’re sensitive to that, don’t pick it up.  And don’t believe the pish-posh that’s on the jacket–something about divine female power. Their religion was strange, but I read the story for the wise words from August, and for the way that Lily expresses herself in such human, honest ways.  Most of all, I like the way August loves and guides and mentors this mother-less girl in such an exquisite way.  She’s my hero.

I’ve followed Ali’s African Adventures for several years, but now it’s more interesting again, because she and her husband are back on the Mercy Ship, after a year’s break. I love her way with words, the medical details, and emotive stories she writes about the broken babies and women she gets to care for. I once had the privilege to go on board the Logos ship, (no, they’re not sister ships) the one that takes books all over the world, so I can sort of picture the kind of community they live in, the size of the ship, and the international camaraderie and family that happens there.

Sometimes I wish that I would read more high-brow books like classics  or even be more informed about things like Occupy Wall Street. But being of average intelligence and being most interested in real people, I spend most of my time reading and following simple stories that are connected with what it means to live in a beautiful but broken world that is held and healed by scarred hands. It suits me. I don’t need anything more heady.

Connect the Dots isn’t a Game!

Posted in life, Poland, recommendations, words by

My English student is a graphic designer and once showed me how she uses that Apple gizmo to make these amazing professional advertisements. This is the lady who’s my age,  studied artistic dance in university, and is a most creative student in the way she describes a word she wants to use but doesn’t know.   She loves all things Apple. From her,  I first heard about Steve Jobs, and afterwards, promptly found his famous Stanford commencement address, and liked it. Liked it very much, really.

I especially liked how he showed how demotions and perceived failures can actually turn out to be good. They can even benefit you sometimes. Such as when he was fired from Apple which pushed him to start Pixar Animation Studios.

Last week I was meandering down the street, licking my last ice cream cone of the season, celebrating the sunshine and my free afternoon. I wheeled around when I heard my name shouted behind me–something that pretty much never happens here–, and it was my graphic designer student! I’d not seen her since early summer, since she had a baby last month, and I’d been missing her, and I shouted her name and hugged her delightedly.

We walked across the street to her parked car to admire her baby and touch his cheeks, and talk about how her life has changed since his birth. Standing in the sun, licking a cone, talking with a student/friend, I somehow felt incredibly rich.

The next day, Steve Jobs died. Not that the two events are connected, but for me, these two people are connected in my mind: Steve Jobs and my student.

In that Stanford speech, Mr. Jobs talked about how one choice affects a million things later.  Maybe that’s why one of the most useful prayers for anyone is for wisdom for them to make good choices.  And maybe that’s part of the fun we’ll have when we’re old and can see how the dots in our stories connect to make something meaningful and beautiful. God did say it would all fit into a good pattern, didn’t He?

I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents’ savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn’t see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn’t interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn’t all romantic. I didn’t have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends’ rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn’t have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it’s likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.       –Steve Jobs

 

Pied Beauty

Posted in words by

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise Him.

–Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844-89