Begin a sentence with "They say that....", and you've lost me. AAAHHH!! Who are 'they' and why should you or I care at all what they said? Cite an author, quote a friend, tell me a story with names and faces that are trustworthy - then I'm in. I'm listening with all of me.
Or be honest and say "I think that...." That'll work, too. Don't put the onus on some wholly unaccountable "they."
But just to be clear: I do not give a hoot what "they" say.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
pseudo-student post
Seminary students I know post their class papers or parts of them on their blog. I am not a student, but I did audit a class. I also volunteered to contribute to a class discussion by writing a (short) reflection paper along with the rest of the class. Since it may be my only chance to do this, here ya go:
Gratitude
The setting for this account is a small town (about half the size of Wilmore) in the Texas panhandle, a kind of a suburb of a larger town (about the size of Lexington) just 10 miles away. It was coveted real estate for the well-to-do families who wanted a small town and good school for their kids. My husband, Ryan, and I were newly married and working as youth ministers at the First UMC there, where average Sunday morning attendance was 80 (which may well have been the average age of the attendees, too), and average attendance at youth events was about 15. We were not, for lack of clearer terms, the “cool” church or youth group in town. The First Baptist Church was experiencing a big boom, averaging hundreds in two services on Sunday mornings, and drawing most of the moneyed middle-agers who had teenagers, as well as many teens who joined there while their parents worshipped elsewhere.
The age of our congregation and the popularity of the other big church in town meant that we had very few youth who attended because their parents were members at FUMC. The rest of our motley crew came to the church alone, or via the invitation of a friend. We were, as our pastor once described to me, the “rag-tag teenage leftovers of [our town].” This was especially true of the boys in our group. Ryan, young in his life and his faith, already was living out a great gift: he sees and loves the people that are often over-looked. These boys that he loved (and, I think, parented) so well included a self-proclaimed Wiccan warlock, an abused and impoverished boy struggling with homosexuality, a neglected, angry, hungry child of drug-addicted parents, and several from broken homes whose parents were not believers or church attenders. Most were marginalized persons in the society of the local high school and our small community.
I got to watch from very close range as these boys began to practice something very uncharacteristic of teenagers: gratitude. Ryan went to their band contests and tennis matches, and they said “thanks.” He picked them up and drove them home, and they laughed out thankfulness for not having to walk home again. He prayed for them and with them, joining them in their hurts, and they expressed gratitude in tears and hugs and sighs of relief. One evening, one of the young men thanked Ryan and the rest of the group in a short speech before our meeting. Their actions seemed to grow from this gratitude, inviting other practices, like fidelity (for 5 years they were there waiting for us to unlock the doors) and hospitality (they invited friends and usually welcomed new-comers warmly). It was no adolescent utopia; they still broke couches jumping onto them with their skate boards, whined when the candy machine was out of their favorite, and pouted when Ryan was unable to offer a ride home or attend an event. Perhaps, too, their circumstances predisposed them to gratitude for the warmth Ryan offered. They had received so little of it elsewhere. Still, their gratitude was often obvious in word and action, and by occasional evidence in Ryan’s inbox and voicemail, it still is.
And the gratitude was mutual. Ryan was thankful for the young people who came to us, and for the chance to live out the Gospel that had captured him. I struggled with “youth group envy,” wishing for the resources and parental support I witnessed down the road at the other church. I was jealous of the other youth minister’s relationship with some of the kids who seemed more like me. Ryan did not, as far as I could tell, share my envy. I learned so much about gratitude from teenage boys with little sense of entitlement and a husband with no obvious struggle with envy.
“Envy,” writes Vanier, “is one of the plagues that destroys community. It comes from people’s ignorance of, or lack of belief in, their own gifts.” It had never occurred to me, until reading Community and Growth, to connect my struggle with envy to that source. Reflecting now on our time in youth ministry, I see that Ryan embraced and lived out his gift for being a father to people who need one. On the other hand, I set aside the importance of offering my gifts, wasting energy wishing God had given me different ones. This new insight offers hope of change. Sitting still and trying to only hold the envy at bay was fruitless, and begat no gratitude. But moving forward by offering ones gift redirects the energy and creates space for gratitude to grow. Another among the countless paradoxes of the Kingdom: gratitude is found in giving, not just receiving.
I’m left wondering about what ways I might be withholding my gifts from my community now, and so blocking gratitude. Also, after seeing the powerful and positive impact of the deliberate, public sharing of thankfulness from the young man in our youth group, I wonder how a church might create an avenue for expressing gratitude publicly. Would it be appropriate for large group gatherings, such as Sunday morning service, or would smaller settings, like Sunday School classes or committee meetings, be better? Or both? What about something written, perhaps in a bulletin, blog, or newsletter? How could we help each other find and use our gifts so that envy has less opportunity to creep in?
Gratitude
The setting for this account is a small town (about half the size of Wilmore) in the Texas panhandle, a kind of a suburb of a larger town (about the size of Lexington) just 10 miles away. It was coveted real estate for the well-to-do families who wanted a small town and good school for their kids. My husband, Ryan, and I were newly married and working as youth ministers at the First UMC there, where average Sunday morning attendance was 80 (which may well have been the average age of the attendees, too), and average attendance at youth events was about 15. We were not, for lack of clearer terms, the “cool” church or youth group in town. The First Baptist Church was experiencing a big boom, averaging hundreds in two services on Sunday mornings, and drawing most of the moneyed middle-agers who had teenagers, as well as many teens who joined there while their parents worshipped elsewhere.
The age of our congregation and the popularity of the other big church in town meant that we had very few youth who attended because their parents were members at FUMC. The rest of our motley crew came to the church alone, or via the invitation of a friend. We were, as our pastor once described to me, the “rag-tag teenage leftovers of [our town].” This was especially true of the boys in our group. Ryan, young in his life and his faith, already was living out a great gift: he sees and loves the people that are often over-looked. These boys that he loved (and, I think, parented) so well included a self-proclaimed Wiccan warlock, an abused and impoverished boy struggling with homosexuality, a neglected, angry, hungry child of drug-addicted parents, and several from broken homes whose parents were not believers or church attenders. Most were marginalized persons in the society of the local high school and our small community.
I got to watch from very close range as these boys began to practice something very uncharacteristic of teenagers: gratitude. Ryan went to their band contests and tennis matches, and they said “thanks.” He picked them up and drove them home, and they laughed out thankfulness for not having to walk home again. He prayed for them and with them, joining them in their hurts, and they expressed gratitude in tears and hugs and sighs of relief. One evening, one of the young men thanked Ryan and the rest of the group in a short speech before our meeting. Their actions seemed to grow from this gratitude, inviting other practices, like fidelity (for 5 years they were there waiting for us to unlock the doors) and hospitality (they invited friends and usually welcomed new-comers warmly). It was no adolescent utopia; they still broke couches jumping onto them with their skate boards, whined when the candy machine was out of their favorite, and pouted when Ryan was unable to offer a ride home or attend an event. Perhaps, too, their circumstances predisposed them to gratitude for the warmth Ryan offered. They had received so little of it elsewhere. Still, their gratitude was often obvious in word and action, and by occasional evidence in Ryan’s inbox and voicemail, it still is.
And the gratitude was mutual. Ryan was thankful for the young people who came to us, and for the chance to live out the Gospel that had captured him. I struggled with “youth group envy,” wishing for the resources and parental support I witnessed down the road at the other church. I was jealous of the other youth minister’s relationship with some of the kids who seemed more like me. Ryan did not, as far as I could tell, share my envy. I learned so much about gratitude from teenage boys with little sense of entitlement and a husband with no obvious struggle with envy.
“Envy,” writes Vanier, “is one of the plagues that destroys community. It comes from people’s ignorance of, or lack of belief in, their own gifts.” It had never occurred to me, until reading Community and Growth, to connect my struggle with envy to that source. Reflecting now on our time in youth ministry, I see that Ryan embraced and lived out his gift for being a father to people who need one. On the other hand, I set aside the importance of offering my gifts, wasting energy wishing God had given me different ones. This new insight offers hope of change. Sitting still and trying to only hold the envy at bay was fruitless, and begat no gratitude. But moving forward by offering ones gift redirects the energy and creates space for gratitude to grow. Another among the countless paradoxes of the Kingdom: gratitude is found in giving, not just receiving.
I’m left wondering about what ways I might be withholding my gifts from my community now, and so blocking gratitude. Also, after seeing the powerful and positive impact of the deliberate, public sharing of thankfulness from the young man in our youth group, I wonder how a church might create an avenue for expressing gratitude publicly. Would it be appropriate for large group gatherings, such as Sunday morning service, or would smaller settings, like Sunday School classes or committee meetings, be better? Or both? What about something written, perhaps in a bulletin, blog, or newsletter? How could we help each other find and use our gifts so that envy has less opportunity to creep in?
Monday, March 16, 2009
community
I'm auditing a great class at the seminary this semester: The Ethics of Christian Community. In both reading and class discussion, it was observed that envy is at the heart of communities that fracture.
What do you think?
What do you think?
Friday, November 28, 2008
tis the season
I know I'm not the first to say this, but might it be time to reevaluate something here? This is just so very sad.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
caring for creation
I did not grow up "green." We saved a few soda cans for a while, but that was the extent of my participation in environmentally friendly practice. The general public opinion in the Texas panhandle of my youth was very skeptical; "tree huggers" were bad. It's only in the past few years that I have tried to learn to change my habits and adopt some more sustainable practices. I've quit excusing myself from making changes because they seem to small to matter, and I want to become a more responsible steward of the creation God entrusted to His children. I am a baby at this, so Google could point you to more helpful sites if you want a "how to." I'm writing to offer a testimonial: If we can make these changes, anyone can.
So over the past two years, we have taken these baby steps:
1 - We try to REDUCE the amount of garbage and pollution we generate (directly in indirectly):
I guess the general idea here is that we won't throw away trash that we don't buy to begin with. We try to buy food that will generate less trash. That means more local and/or fresh ingredients, less process, packaged food. We throw away less, and we're eating food that required less energy (processing, packaging, shipping) to get from its origin to our plate. (It also means that I'm learning to cook differently, which has been fun! I think I'll finally have a skill!) We've cut down on the fast food we eat (better for our bodies AND our planet), and try to eat out at places use real plates and buy local, if possible. We use pyrex/corning ware food storage, trying to cut down on plastic baggies, foil, and plastic wrap that would end up in the trash.
I shop for homemade or used items (from kitchen gadgets to clothing) first, then after-market or reduced items before I buy new stuff. It may keep said items from just going in the trash, and if more people shop that way, environmentally unfriendly production will slow.
We are trying to buy cleaning products that are less toxic, and steer away from plastic toys (which is tough, but doable).
In the interest of steering away from disposable anything, I highly recommend Diva Cup, ladies (also MUCH more comfortable).
Hopefully these buying practices will support business and farms that use sustainable methods for production, and eventually help them have the means to sway legislation in their favor. I think my dollar is as powerful a vote as the ballot.
We use cloth napkins and real towels, and when we use paper products, we use PAPER products - not wax-coated paper, plastic, or styrofoam. Most of the paper products we buy and use end up in our compost pile instead of the trash, which leads me to...
We compost. We may or may not have a garden in the spring in which to use our compost, but either way, I feel better about making sure biodegradable matter ends up back in the dirt instead of wrapped in a plastic bag in a landfill somewhere.
We don't drive very much. Our strollers have logged miles and miles since moving here. Again, living in Wilmore has made that easy for us; it's such a small town. When we move, it may be quite an adjustment to learn to drive less.
2 - We try to REUSE as much as we can.
We reuse as many things as possible before throwing them away. A couple examples: We keep some plastic containers to store/organize things in the house (like toys or art supplies) or in the shed (nails and screws, etc.). I use newspaper from the junk mail pile to shine glass. We realized that most of the standard letter size paper that came to us in the mail or from school was blank on one side, so we save it and use it to print drafts, write notes, or for Morgan's art. We have our own grocery bags (which I'm still getting in the habit of taking with me to the store), but we use the plastic ones to line small trash cans. Ryan is a genius when it comes to reusing cast-offs for his projects before buying new materials.
3 - We RECYCLE.
It's easy for us. The city of Wilmore has a recycling program. We sort the approved items into our bin, and put it on the street for pick-up every other week. I'll have to write again later and let you know if we learn how to recycle when we live in a city that does not have a program like this available.
We've also looked into some things that just won't work for us. I was about to order cloth diapers, but with Athan's physical challenges, it would not be wise for him to have the bulkier cloth diapers hindering his mobility. And there are more things we're learning about that we hope to work into our daily habits and lifestyle a little at a time.
So that's a start. None of those things have required much in the way of sacrifice on our parts. It took a little attention and discipline to change our routine as we incorporated these practices, but now everything listed above is pretty much the norm. Yes, I said "pretty much." I am no saint. If it's cold outside, I drive - even to IGA, which is only a couple blocks away. Sometimes I'm too lazy to sort all the recycling, and I just toss it. Sometimes I buy convenience foods or eat fast foods that are toxic to world and body, but they're easy on a mom who doesn't always get enough sleep. Still, I'm trying to change my "default" practices so that the exceptions are less costly. I've done no measurement at all, but my guess is that even with all the exceptions, this year we've generated half the garbage we did the year before.
So over the past two years, we have taken these baby steps:
1 - We try to REDUCE the amount of garbage and pollution we generate (directly in indirectly):
I guess the general idea here is that we won't throw away trash that we don't buy to begin with. We try to buy food that will generate less trash. That means more local and/or fresh ingredients, less process, packaged food. We throw away less, and we're eating food that required less energy (processing, packaging, shipping) to get from its origin to our plate. (It also means that I'm learning to cook differently, which has been fun! I think I'll finally have a skill!) We've cut down on the fast food we eat (better for our bodies AND our planet), and try to eat out at places use real plates and buy local, if possible. We use pyrex/corning ware food storage, trying to cut down on plastic baggies, foil, and plastic wrap that would end up in the trash.
I shop for homemade or used items (from kitchen gadgets to clothing) first, then after-market or reduced items before I buy new stuff. It may keep said items from just going in the trash, and if more people shop that way, environmentally unfriendly production will slow.
We are trying to buy cleaning products that are less toxic, and steer away from plastic toys (which is tough, but doable).
In the interest of steering away from disposable anything, I highly recommend Diva Cup, ladies (also MUCH more comfortable).
Hopefully these buying practices will support business and farms that use sustainable methods for production, and eventually help them have the means to sway legislation in their favor. I think my dollar is as powerful a vote as the ballot.
We use cloth napkins and real towels, and when we use paper products, we use PAPER products - not wax-coated paper, plastic, or styrofoam. Most of the paper products we buy and use end up in our compost pile instead of the trash, which leads me to...
We compost. We may or may not have a garden in the spring in which to use our compost, but either way, I feel better about making sure biodegradable matter ends up back in the dirt instead of wrapped in a plastic bag in a landfill somewhere.
We don't drive very much. Our strollers have logged miles and miles since moving here. Again, living in Wilmore has made that easy for us; it's such a small town. When we move, it may be quite an adjustment to learn to drive less.
2 - We try to REUSE as much as we can.
We reuse as many things as possible before throwing them away. A couple examples: We keep some plastic containers to store/organize things in the house (like toys or art supplies) or in the shed (nails and screws, etc.). I use newspaper from the junk mail pile to shine glass. We realized that most of the standard letter size paper that came to us in the mail or from school was blank on one side, so we save it and use it to print drafts, write notes, or for Morgan's art. We have our own grocery bags (which I'm still getting in the habit of taking with me to the store), but we use the plastic ones to line small trash cans. Ryan is a genius when it comes to reusing cast-offs for his projects before buying new materials.
3 - We RECYCLE.
It's easy for us. The city of Wilmore has a recycling program. We sort the approved items into our bin, and put it on the street for pick-up every other week. I'll have to write again later and let you know if we learn how to recycle when we live in a city that does not have a program like this available.
We've also looked into some things that just won't work for us. I was about to order cloth diapers, but with Athan's physical challenges, it would not be wise for him to have the bulkier cloth diapers hindering his mobility. And there are more things we're learning about that we hope to work into our daily habits and lifestyle a little at a time.
So that's a start. None of those things have required much in the way of sacrifice on our parts. It took a little attention and discipline to change our routine as we incorporated these practices, but now everything listed above is pretty much the norm. Yes, I said "pretty much." I am no saint. If it's cold outside, I drive - even to IGA, which is only a couple blocks away. Sometimes I'm too lazy to sort all the recycling, and I just toss it. Sometimes I buy convenience foods or eat fast foods that are toxic to world and body, but they're easy on a mom who doesn't always get enough sleep. Still, I'm trying to change my "default" practices so that the exceptions are less costly. I've done no measurement at all, but my guess is that even with all the exceptions, this year we've generated half the garbage we did the year before.
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