Living on the Brink . . . .

Have you ever experienced the feeling of being “on the brink”?  It’s that feeling deep inside that something is about to change or burst forth, but you can’t grasp what exactly it is.  It’s like that feeling you get when you wake up from a dream and the shadow of the dream remains but you can’t conjure up the precise images anymore.  

Maybe my current feelings are appropriate for this time of year.  Everything is new.  Each day tender little leaves are unfurling from their curled cocoons.  Grass is poking up from bare spots of earth.  Birds are returning from winter getaways and filling the morning air with their songs.  This is how I feel.  Like something new and green and exciting is sitting just beneath the surface waiting to emerge. 

I am trying to be very alert during this time, because I think the Holy Spirit is at work and I don’t want to miss what He has in store.  So often I fear that I have let God down because I miss (or reject) the opportunities that He has set in front of me.  So I lean heavily into His word and keep my ears attuned to His direction. 

I took a class recently on improving my speaking abilities.  The instructor gave us tools to further our study once the class was over, and she left us with this thought:   When we focus our attention on something that we are trying to learn, when we submerge ourselves into a particular study or interest, everywhere we look we will see answers to our questions.  The topic will emerge wherever we go.  It’s the same concept where, when you buy a car, suddenly you see that car all over town.   So I plan to keep my eyes and ears open and hang onto God’s word which says, “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”  (Isaiah 43:19). 

I can’t wait to see what God is up to now.

The Problem with Clichés....

We’ve all heard the saying, “Live each day like it might be your last.”  The problem with this saying is that it’s a cliché.  The problem with clichés is that they once contained volatile truths, but they got so overused and overstated that they have become hollow of meaning.  I believe firmly in the truth that this cliché propounds.  Despite the fact that I believe it, I also quickly forget the weight of its meaning. 

Today I attended a memorial service of a man I deeply respected and genuinely liked.  His death came as a shock to everyone he knew.  Sitting in the church pew today, I listened to people talk about the way Jeff impacted their lives.  I heard their stories and joined in their tears.  One of the speakers said something that really got my attention.  He said he was trying to process his feelings about Jeff’s death when his son reminded him of a profound truth:  We go through this life not thinking that we will lose people whom we love.  But we do suffer lost, it is a part of life, and we are foolish to lose sight of this truth.  

As this message sunk in, that familiar old cliché took on new life.  While I want to live in such a way that I treat each day and each encounter as a treasure, too often I get caught up in the petty things of life.  How easy it is to let the cares of the day pile up and stress me out.  On days like this I come home short of breath and short of temper.  I get fussy about stupid things and snippy about stuff that really doesn’t matter. 

I love the idea of viewing each day as my last, but I too easily forget.  I think the way to bring new meaning to an old cliché is to view it this way:  Love each other like it might be their last day.  When I look at the faces of those I love, and when I think it might be possible that tomorrow I won’t get to take back that tone of voice or silly argument, suddenly something inside me changes.  I want set my frustration aside, focus all of my attention and care on that face, and appreciate that singular, priceless moment.  I hope the more I practice this mindfully, the more it will grow into not just a nice idea, but a way of life.

Eyes Wide Open....

I accidentally preached myself a sermon yesterday. 

I have a 16 year old cat named “Boy.”  Well, actually, his original name was “Charlie,” which became “Charlie My Boy,” which became “My Boy,” which became “Boy.”  And before I adopted him at the tender age of three months old he was called “Ernie.”  Boy is very fussy.   He likes his world to be the same, with no changes to his carefully arranged plans.  He doesn’t like surprises, he guards his peace and quiet, and he resists anything that can potentially upturn his comfort.  I understand Boy because he and I are pretty similar.  I resist change.  I need a peaceful environment.  Boy and I are cut from the same cloth.

Enter Noel…a rambunctious, spunky, springy little Corgi cross.  She is truly a sweet, agreeable little dog.  Her curiosity, especially with regard to our cats, is unacceptable to Boy.  Tippy McWetwoods, our rough-and-tumble formerly stray cat, has gotten quite accustomed to Noel’s curious nose.  If he jumps down onto the floor, Noel will follow after him.  Tippy just accepts this, doesn’t get worked up, and even taunts her a little bit before going for higher ground.  Sparrow, our feisty black-and-white mama kitty, is very chatty with Noel.  Sparrow will sit on the back of the couch giving Noel the what-for, and it is not unusual for Noel to take a few swats on the nose when she gets too close for Sparrow’s comfort. 

Then there’s Boy.  He has holed up in our bedroom ever since Noel’s adoption in December.   We put up a baby gate to keep Noel from invading Boy’s turf.  We carry him down into the living room to encourage him to interact with the family and get over his fears, but within a few minutes he scampers back up to his bedroom sanctuary. 

Yesterday, shortly after Boy snuck back upstairs, I said to my husband, “You know what Boy’s problem is?  He refuses to face his fears.  Rather than getting used to Noel and facing her head-on, he avoids her altogether.  If he would just suck it up, he would find that Noel isn’t scary.  She doesn’t want to harm him….” 

And then I realized that I had just preached myself a sermon. 

How many times do I avoid something simply because it’s scary?   (A lot, I’m afraid to say).  How often do I stare my fears in the face and see them for what they really are?  (Less often that I would like, to be truthful).  How easy is it to get stuck in the avoidance game?  (Too easy). 

It’s time to take my own advice on a more regular basis.  This life is filled with twists and turns and unexpected surprises.  Far better to face life with open eyes than with fear and trepidation.  

In the meantime, we will continue to carry Boy down to the living room to hang out with us.  We will also continue to deliver Boy’s food to him up in the bedroom.  He is, after all, a little prince who has had my heart for over 16 years.

Pssst...TSA Workers....Cheer Up!

I have a question that I hope one of you can answer:  What goes on in TSA training sessions?  I kind of want to go undercover and apply to be a Transportation Security Administration agent.  Maybe this will be my summer adventure.  I will wow them with my charm and skill, get hired at the Spokane International Airport, and sneak behind the curtain into the TSA training facility.  What are these poor newbie agents taught, exactly?  I suspect there is a rulebook that trainees must memorize.  Here’s what I think is on their list of rules:

1. Never smile.
2. Never laugh.
3. The nicer the travelers are, the more you need to suspect them.
4. Never smile.
5. Scrutinize each traveler’s I.D. until you make the traveler nervous.
6. Speak in short sentences and don’t converse with the guests.
7. Never smile.

I am sure there are more rules on their list, but I have a feeling that Day #1 of TSA training is a giant hypnosis session that removes all of their humanity and empathy.  By the end of their first week, the poor victims probably only answer questions using monosyllables and scowly faces. 

Chad and I took a quick little mini-vacation to Oregon a few weeks back.  We bought our airline tickets so early that it was actually cheaper to fly than to drive or take the train.  I had forgotten just how much I hate the security screening process, not because I have to shuffle along in my sock feet, pour all of my belongings into bins, or even stand in the scanner or step aside for a random extra screening.  I hate the process because of how cold and robotic it feels.  I am a fairly chatty person.  Though shy, once a conversation opens up, I happily ask questions and engage in conversations with complete strangers, whether in a grocery checkout line or a restaurant out of town.  I like people.  I like hearing their stories and learning about their lives.  And it’s no secret that I especially love grandpas and grandmas.  They usually have the best stories and best advice.  But then I step into that security line, smile at the TSA checking I.D. cards, and remember:  Oh yeah.  They don’t like people.  I forgot.  In fact, they seem downright annoyed when people like me want to engage in friendly Q and A sessions.  They don’t care where I’m going; they don’t care how excited I am.  They want to scrutinize my driver’s license and move me along like a cow in a chute. 

While waiting in the line, sock-footed and excited for our trip to Cannon Beach, I whispered to Chad:  “Here’s what’s wrong with the TSA agents.  There are basically three kinds of travelers – happy people going on exciting excursions, sad people who are leaving loved ones behind, and tired people who have to travel for work and just want to get home.  Why can’t the TSA be nice?  Is it against the rules or something?”  No matter how you slice it, the typical TSA approach to travelers is not suitable for the typical traveler.  To the happy traveler, the TSA is a buzz-kill.  To the sad traveler they are only agitating things and making the goodbye worse.  To the tired traveler they are further draining any spirit left in the weary worker. 

Now, I do understand that I am being unfair.  I am lumping all TSA’s into one very unpleasant bunch.  Surely there are kind and decent TSA agents out there.  Sure.  But most of the ones I have encountered have been the gruff sort.  One of my friends and co-workers just returned from an international trip.  In London she had to stand and watch as the TSA threw away probably $100 of specially vacuum-sealed meats and delicacies.  On one of my husband’s and my trips, the TSA worker rifled through our bags, haphazardly stuffed everything back it, didn’t bother to zip up our bags, and tossed them back at us like we were the reason he hated his job so much. 

On the flip-side, however, was Brenda, a superhero of a woman who helped Chad and I make a flight after having to cut our Hawaiian vacation short when our airline went bankrupt and left us stranded.  She moved Heaven and Earth to get our bags checked, tickets into our hands.  She took us to the front of the line so we could make the flight.  And we did….just barely.  I still think of Brenda and thank God for bringing her into our life.   Then there was the TSA in Portland.  We were heading home from our Cannon Beach weekend.  I was still kind of bitter about our last cold encounter with a Spokane TSA, but when I saw one of the I.D. checkers actually smile, I told Chad, “Let’s get into his line.  He's actually a human.”  He chatted with each traveler, wished them safe travels, and sent them on their way with kindness.  When I handed him my driver’s license I told him, “We picked your line because you’re happy.  That’s pretty rare in this business, isn’t it?”  His reply was accompanied with a smile:  “They teach us to suspect everyone,” he laughed, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time.” 

I’ve taken a cue from that friendly TSA agent this week.  It’s been nuts at work.  Fourth quarter is always a sprint, but when I found out that for three weeks I am displaced from my classroom for state testing and have to lug my computer, books, papers, and materials to five different classes sprinkled all across campus, my first instinct was to groan and complain.  But then I remembered what a total downer people like that can be.  I don’t want to be some growly, scowly mutterer.  I want to be that person who smiles in the face of annoyance and finds a way to enjoy life no matter what.  So I said out loud, “I will not complain!”  Some of my colleagues have said with empathy in their voices, “Oh, you’re homeless, huh?” and my reply has been, “Yes, but I get some fresh air as I hike around campus, enjoy all the different classroom environments, and I get to see teachers I usually only see during staff meetings!” 

The positive approach is actually doing wonders for my inner attitude.  I don’t feel upset by this interruption to my routine.  When my students couldn’t find me today and I had to track them down, burning up at least 10 minutes of 3^rd period before we regrouped and found a classroom to use, I just reminded them, “A lot of times in life you just have to smile and roll with it.  It’s okay.”  And I really mean it.  Life is a lot about the little things – and the little things can do a lot to make or break someone’s day.  I really want to be someone who inspires smiles rather than scowls.

The Beautiful Music of Spring!

I have good news, folks!  I heard the first frogs of the season a few days ago!  Since then I have spied robins in the sunshine and buds on the trees.  This calls for celebration!  Below is a poem I wrote about this magical time of the year (which also happens to be my favorite).  I have another poem my brain is trying to organize.  I hope that I can share that poem with you very soon.  In the meantime, let us all say a prayer of thanksgiving for the wonderful buds of spring!

“Music in Spring”

Spring starts slowly in the Northwest,

like the winding up of a dusty victrola
long forgotten in an attic that groans
and slowly gains motion and finally music
crackles and catches and then smooths out.

You might first notice it in the morning air. 

A change in texture and smell.  What is it? 
Thawed earth?  New leaves?  New volume
in the air?  Snow-muffled quiet
traded for bird song and breeze.

Open your window as you drive the streets.

Windows shut up now open a bit, then more,
and before long there’s music
blaring from his car to yours
and heads are bobbing in your rearview.

You might laugh, but three blocks down

you’re at it, too, your voice mingled
with the radio and fingers tapping.
Everywhere is song and motion
and teens in fast cars checking each other out.

At home, in the woods, red-winged blackbirds

signal the wakening, then the Stellar blue jays
bicker in the trees.  And I say, “Shhhh… Do you hear that?
The frogs.  They’ve thawed.”  One at first, then tomorrow
it’s two.  By Friday the night is punctuated.

And I can’t help but stand, sock-footed and still –

the scent of mud and dripping rain
mingle with frog melodies and pine;
the chorus is caught, and doubles on itself –
on my deck, in the dark, the symphony rises.

Your Life's Mission in One Clear Statement

Most large companies and organizations have a mission statement. These statements clarify the organization’s focus, declare over-arching goals, and determine what underlies all of the choices that the company makes.  They act as both a guide for behavior and a mirror that keeps the members focused and unified.  Here are a few examples:

• Starbucks:  To inspire and nurture the human spirit – one person, one cup and one neighborhood at a time.
• The Humane Society:  Celebrating Animals, Confronting Cruelty.
• The Girl Scouts of America:  Girl Scouting builds girls of courage, confidence, and character, who make the world a better place.
• Facebook:  To give people the power to share and make the world more open and connected.
• SeaWorld:  To apply basic physiological research efforts and state-of-the-art reproductive technologies toward wildlife species management and conservation.

The charter school where I teach has a mission statement.  The railroad where my husband works has a mission statement.  Our church has a mission statement.  One thing I never really thought about (until recently) was why I don’t have a mission statement for myself. 

That’s right.  Why can’t people have mission statements?  If it’s good enough for Starbucks and Facebook and SeaWorld, why shouldn’t people have their own guiding principal?  The best part about life statements like these is that they are designed to be short, concise, and focused.  They are foundational, and they can be pulled out and studied in times of crisis, loss of focus, and movements toward change. 

I had never considered this until a few weeks ago.  Our church is in the process of calling a new associate pastor.  Being a part of the process has taught me a lot, and meeting the potential pastors has been very edifying.  One of the potential pastors, who visited our church for a meet-and-greet and brief talk about discipleship, talked about having a statement that guides his life in all situations, from enduring hard times to meeting others and talking about Christ.  The statement, which comes from the Bible, forms the foundation for not only his decisions but also his point of view.  When he is talking to someone about Christ, he said he makes it a point to ask him or her, “What is your life’s mission statement?”  Then he shares his:  “Jesus is Lord.” 

I had never considered what a handy thing it would be to have a life statement until this moment.  Think about it:  Did you have a bad day, where nothing seems to be going right?  Well, if your mission statement is “Jesus is Lord,” then you can rest assured that no matter what the circumstances, Jesus has you in His hands.  He has a plan for you, and no amount of bad days can change that.  Okay, how about this:  Did you have the best day ever?  Did everything go as planned?  Did you find success?  Well, guess what?  “Jesus is Lord.”  And if that’s the case, you know where those blessings came from, and you know whom to thank.  Did you meet a nice person on that flight to Seattle?  Did you strike up a conversation about life and work and what book you were reading?  Now ask that stranger what their life’s mission is.  Then share yours.  If it’s “Jesus is Lord,” that swings the door wide open to talk about how God has worked in your life, and all of the sudden you are discipling and blessing someone’s life in a potentially life-altering way.  Pretty cool, right? 

Ever since that evening where I was introduced to the idea of a personal mission statement, I’ve been sorting through my favorite Bible verses and passages, trying to decide what my life statement will be.  I want to it serve as a cornerstone for everything that I do.  I want it to speak to my attitude about work, about the people I encounter, and about the goals and aspirations I have.  I want it to be both an encouragement in the rough times and a guardrail that keeps my heart and mind on track. 

When I discover my mission statement, I will be certain to share it with you.  In the meantime, have you ever thought about what statement, Biblical or otherwise, that you want to act as a pilot light for your life?  If not, I encourage you to ponder it out.  It might be just the thing to illuminate what values you want to permeate your future decisions and your overall point of view.

Lessons from Obedience School . . . .

Noel and I finished our eight-week basic obedience class last Saturday.  I am proud to report that we both passed!  I have never been such a diligent student of dog care, and I feel as if I have let all of my past dogs down for not being a more involved parent.  The class served to bond us together, gives us things to work on at home, and we have both learned a lot. 

I suspect that I learned more than Noel, however.  I suspect that I should have taken basic obedience training many, many years ago….with or without a dog. 

I have been learning a lot about dog care in the past few months.  In addition to obedience classes, I have been doing a lot of online research about various training issues, watching (with great attention) Cesar Millan’s television show “The Dog Whisperer,” and reading books about the proper care and training of our little corgi cocktail.  

When Noel strains at her leash, our instructor taught me to just turn and go a different direction.  If she begins pulling against the leash again, turn and go another way (I must look like a drunken sailor walking our road).  Eventually she will get into “heel” position because I am walking unpredictably.  Before we go outside for a walk I give Noel the “sit” command, then tell her to “wait,” then exit the house and give her permission to come outside with an “okay” command.  We are practicing the “come” command repeatedly, largely because if she gets off leash while playing with the neighbor dog, she refuses to come to me.  Each time we practice the “stay” command I extend the time so that she will learn patience and look to me as, what Cesar Millan calls, “the pack leader.” 

Oh yeah.  I should probably mention that I took something called an Enneagram test and scored a .7% for assertiveness.  That’s right, folks.  I couldn’t even crack into the whole numbers for assertiveness.  I scored seven-tenths of a percent.  I’m surprised the website didn’t offer me a consolation prize for being the least assertive human being to ever take the Enneagram test.  Wow. 

I need to muster up every ounce of my .7% assertiveness to learn how to be my dog’s pack leader. 

Fortunately, Noel is a very sweet, very eager-to-please dog.  But even so, I have found that if I let up on my training consistency, or if I allow her to drag me along icy roads while she strains at her leash, she quickly forgets who is (supposed to be) in charge.  One evening, though totally exhausted, I decided I had better take Noel out for one last visit to the latrine.  It was raining, windy, and all I wanted to do was go to my soft, warm bed.  We went through the “sit, wait” routine, but when I opened the door she immediately trotted outside.  Despite my fatigue, we went back inside and went through the whole ritual again.  The classes and endless articles emphasize that consistency is key.  If the dog is allowed to believe he is in charge, he will walk all over his owner.  A dog straining at the leash is under the impression that she is in charge.  The same is true for dogs that are allowed to enter the house in front of their humans or eat before their humans do.  So dog owners would do well to establish boundaries consistently, because Cesar Millan says that dogs are more at ease when they know that their humans are in charge.  

This week I was thinking about how careful I am to toe the line with my dog, but not with my fellow humans.  I caught one of my students interrupting not only his fellow students, but also me during a class discussion.  Another one of my students had her feet up on a chair, which I know I have ignored in the past.  As a result, she had moved from using one chair as a foot rest to two chairs across which to sprawl like she was enjoying a movie in her living room.  I quickly corrected the situation, asking her take her feet off the chairs, scanned the room and saw two others doing the same thing, corrected them, and got down to business discussing “Oedipus the King.”  As I was driving home I had to accept the fact that my easy-going demeanor was largely to blame.  Because I had overlooked these little habits in the past, the habits began to grow and spread.  What’s funny is when I asked the students to stop sprawling, I used my “training Noel” voice and praised them after they had complied. 

Yes, my dear readers, I should have taken basic obedience training years ago!  When I think of all the people I have let walk on me or take advantage of me in small (and big) ways, I realize that simple one-hour classes at dog obedience school could have saved me from myself. 

So, I will continue reading training books (first up, Cesar Millan’s Be the Pack Leader), Noel and I will sign up for more classes with the Coeur d’Alene Dog Fancier’s Club, and we will practice old and new tricks.  Next year I get to teach two 8^th grade English classes along with my usual high school literature classes, and I will practice my training skills on fourteen year olds. 

Perhaps in a year my assertiveness score on the Enneagram test will actually cross into a whole number.  Dare to dream….