Starting Summer Right...With Ice Cream!

Now that summer is upon us, I am knee-deep in books to read, chores to complete, and a calendar of days to fill.  It is indeed thrilling to look down a long line of days just waiting to be occupied with all the good things that get ignored during the school year.  One of the things I did to prepare for this summer was take a trip to the bookstore, armed with a gift card.  In addition to two novels by John Green, I found a book of 642 writing exercises.  I thought it would be fun to try a random exercise each week, and here’s this week’s prompt:  “Your most transcendent ice cream experience…”  Since summer was practically invented for ice cream eating, here’s my response: 

State Highway 41 winds north through several small North Idaho towns, closely flanked on both sides by towering tamarack, white pine, and Douglas Fir trees.  You’ll be lucky if your phone maintains cell service for the full drive, and you need to be on the alert for deer and other game crossing the road.  The road slices through mountains and forests, and in the winter months you would be wise to watch out for black ice on the curves.  This is the kind of highway that is off the beaten path, taking travelers through small towns, alongside pastures dotted with horses, cows, and red barns, and past family-owned cafes.  One of the towns you will encounter is Spirit Lake, a little dot on the map with a beautiful lake, rich history, and some of the best ice cream you will ever eat. 

Turn onto Main Street and you will find a town straight out of a film set for Little House on the Prairie.  Make your way down the street, past the Old West Hardware store, the train and antique store, Joe’s Hole Saloon, The Funky Monkey Bar and Grill, the White Horse Saloon, and the Linger Longer Lounge.  There, across the street, you will find a little building with a green-striped awning.  Tables with green umbrellas sit outside, inviting customers to rest a while as they eat ice cream before the summer sun can melt little rivulets that run down their wrists.  Before you step inside this quaint little shop, read the sign above the door:  Spirit Lake Video.  That’s right, your destination to the best ice cream ever is inside a video store.  This video store also features fudge and ice cream; the goodies behind the counter are part of Knick-Knack Paddywhack, though both businesses are owned and operated by the same family. 

As you meander past the old-fashioned fudge counter and racks of DVD’s for rent, you will find yourself staring into barrels of ice cream of all colors and flavors.  It was the delicate yellow and white swirls that caught my eye that fateful day I nearly cried in public when I took my first bite of Cascade Glacier Lemon Meringue Pie ice cream.  The young lady behind the counter took my order, a single scoop in a waffle cone, and reached the scooper inside the three gallon container.  Within minutes she had piled a mountain-sized mound of the gooey treat and pressed it inside my cone.  After my husband received his equally monstrous cone, we headed outside to sit in the sun to enjoy our snack.  The ice cream was thick and creamy.  Tart lemon bursts were paired with sweet vanilla undertones, and an occasional piece of pie crust was an added textural bonus.  Already the sun was causing small drips down the side of my waffle cone, so I ate faster, pausing only to say, “Oh my word this is good!” and lick the drips from my fingers.  By the time I had dominated the mountain peak of ice cream so that it was level with the cone’s edge, I had stopped speaking at all, now just making little happy noises as I watched people pass by the shop.  I nibbled around and around the waffle cone, enjoying the way the lemony-vanilla ice cream had softened the cone to perfection.  Finally, I came to the best part, the “cone butt” as I like to call it, where the ice cream pools for one final burst of ice-cream-and-cone heaven.  My stomach was full and happy as we loaded into the car, and sometimes I catch myself reminiscing about that delicious drive up north one Saturday afternoon. 

So this summer, if you are looking for a little adventure that ends in pure bliss, make a 26 mile trek north to a little lake town that offers a slice of heaven in a cone.

A Word about Words . . .

At night, when it is very quiet, my ears hum.  I like to think that reverberating in my ears is an echo from all of the day’s activities.  The ghosts of all those words buzz with such force I think I can even feel a vibration. 

If you think about it, we are bombarded by words all day long:  Our eyes run over letters and commas and periods and sentences from morning until night; our fingers pen or type words for work or just to leave a note for a loved one; we hear snippets of conversations by those around us, by people we don’t know; we speak with strangers and friends and acquaintances; some of us even talk in our sleep!  We release and receive probably thousands of words (if not more) each day.  What do all those words add up to, I wonder?

Today a student who just graduated from the school where I teach gave me a letter.  At the end of each school year, part of my freshmen final requires my students to write a letter to themselves.  They show me the letter, which I just check for the required length, then they seal it inside an envelope, affix a stamp in the upper right corner, and wait for a year and a half for that letter to reach them.  This has been a wildly well-received exercise, and when the juniors receive a missive from them former selves, they often are surprised and amused with the person they encounter.  They see their freshman handwriting, hear the angst in their freshman words, and reflect upon how far they have come.  It turns out that one of my students included a letter to me in her envelope, and she saved it for after she graduated.  Today I received the kindest words written four years ago, words that encouraged me and nourished my soul.  Those words, written on college ruled paper with a standard number two pencil, carried immense power, grace, and kindness.  Those words penetrated into my heart and built me up.  I will cherish her words and will keep that letter forever, because those words breathed life and joy and meaning into my spirit. 

How is it that letters connected into words that are connected into phrases and sentences and thoughts can penetrate into one’s soul?  How can mere words have so much impact in a person’s life? 

We should be very careful with our words. 

In a single word we can build someone up or tear someone down.  With a handful of words we can steal or instill hope.  Words can bring life or take life, connect or destroy hearts, bring laughter or tears.  We carry with us the words of those we love even after those loved ones are gone.  Words can lead others on a pathway of healing or a road to destruction.  Careless words spoken in haste can live on forever, released into the air like angry wasps waiting to sting.  Kind words spoken in truth and love can act like guiding stars for years to come. 

In the Bible there are over 130 mentions of the tongue.  Repeatedly the Bible describes the tongue as “restless,” “untamable,” “a fire,” and a bow waiting to fling an arrow, or a sharp sword.  With words the tongue can wound.  The tongue can mislead.  The tongue can instill fear.  The tongue can destroy.  But according to Proverbs 12 the tongue can also bring healing.  Using thoughtful words the tongue can build up.  The tongue can bring knowledge and healing.   Proverbs 15 says that a gentle tongue is a “tree of life.”  Proverbs 18 says that “death and life are in the power of the tongue.”  A happy tongue sings.  A wise tongue instructs.  A kind tongue edifies. 

It is easy to forget the power that we carry within our words. 

Words live on even after they are spoken, and they buzz and hum in our ears, rattle around in our brains, and settle into our hearts. 

What words do you allow into your life?  Silence those voices that only wound you with words.  Shut the door to them.  Don’t let destructive people harm you with their careless words. 

What words do you release into the world?  May they be words that bring life and hope and healing.

There Are Always Two Sides to Everything!

I have the privilege of working with and being friends with some wonderfully wise people.  I spend my lunches chatting with a teacher whom I really admire and appreciate.  We share our lives, discuss interesting books that we’ve read, air our frustrations, and generally just try to help bear each other’s burdens.  I find myself paying careful attention to people I trust and watching how they handle situations.  I want to glean as much wisdom from them as I can. 

My teacher-friend said something really interesting a few months ago.  A book she was reading pointed out that a person’s strengths are also rooted in a person’s weaknesses.  Think of it like a rope in a game of tug-of-war.  Your strengths pull the rope in one direction, and the weaknesses pull in the other.  The more I thought about this, the more I realized how true it really is…and I feel silly that I hadn’t thought of it myself. 

Take a second to think about one of your primary strengths.  What benefits are there to your strength?  How does it enhance your life?  One of my strengths is that I am pretty easy-going.  Not much gets me upset.  This has proven to be an asset in many ways.  When my students do something frustrating, I am able to handle it without showing signs of frustrations.  When tempers flare, I can often find ways to cool things down.  I am really content under most circumstances. 

Okay, now think about how that strength also has a flip-side.  In what ways does your strength get in your way?  How might it rear its ugly head in a negative sense?  My easy-going nature can really frustrate my husband.  He’s pretty tenacious, so he doesn’t always understand my “be calm” attitude.  I can be complacent and dare-I-say stagnant.  I don’t take risks because I am happy and therefore don’t always push myself for better. 

It has been interesting to look at my own behavior in light of this two-sides-to-the-coin point of view.  While I hate that I’m not more competitive, I love that I am very accepting of people and their differences.  My husband’s get-it-done attitude is not only admirable, but sexy, and I wish that I could be more aggressive in certain ways.   But I love that I always aim to treat people as kindly and gently as possible. 

I guess what I’m getting at is that we can wish we were different or yearn to be someone else, but who we are, both good and bad, is rather tangled up.  I could strip myself of my “be chill” attitude, but I don’t think I’d like the negative side of that behavior.  I think I need to start appreciating who God created me to be and capitalize on those things I am proud of.  I’m not saying we can’t work hard to cull out the things in our personalities or behavior that we don’t like…There are plenty of things I am working hard to improve about myself.  It is really healthy to nurture our strengths and work on improving our weaknesses.  But it’s not healthy to walk through life full of regrets and if-only’s.

So, take stock of the things about you that you are proud of.  Celebrate what makes you YOU!  Work on the things that need improving, by all means, but spend lots of time simply enjoying the person you are and the way you enhance the lives of others.  The more we focus on the positives, the more effective we can be in our lives.

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.