Of runny noses, ancient words and a very old Christmas Cactus

Merry Christmas!  May your day be full of  blessings, including the odd ones that may not surface until you quiet down later.

Deb and I are celebrating this day alone this year for the first time in about 35 years, the last being our first Christmas together in Indiana when we were low on the work seniority totem pole and family came to us on the weekends before and after.  Up at 8:30 following a midnight return from a service at Central Lutheran downtown.  I needed an elegant service.

Earlier Christmas Eve we gathered with our oldest at their church for a family service which was also wonderful with prelude piano by a young worshipper and a lovely video of young kids acting out the Christmas story with the kind of freshness that Jesus also found delightful (cf Lk 18: 15-17).  I kind of miss those awkward Christmas pagents put on by hordes of young actors-the ones where a constantly runny nose or a kid holding his privates exclaims to his mortified mother, "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom!"  The ones where a completely new rendition of the ancient words gives one pause as God's Spirit barges into your adult constraint to renew the punch of the first announcement.  "Unless you accept God's kingdom in the simplicity of a child, you'll never get in." was Jesus' exclamation to those who were too adult for their own good.  It is good to be knocked on your can as you go through the season, for there we can join the astonished shepherds, the diligent scientist/astronomers, the marveling parents and the incomprehensible arrival of God in our form.  This is a mystery that transcends all mystery.

After this lovely service we gathered back at our home with our eldest, Deb's parents and our very good neighborhood friends and their youngest son for a meal and good fun.  The table talk was the highlight for me as we both recounted our history with one another and added to the history with this new chapter.  There were parts of the night several of us missed when our Granddaughter Fion, pulled our hands to join her in play in the family room.  With me she wished to watch a video, then have me turn on the electonic piano attached to the computer to play the ABC song.  Then she wanted me to chase her and tickle her, and I wanted her to do the same to me.  Her words are becoming more clear, which helps her Papa T understand what her will is in the moment.  How like the Jesus baby-knowing what is going on in his creation and stuck with the language of a baby.  The ancient mystery repeated in another 'verse' with Fiona.  I cherish watching these little ones grasp their world.  Their innocence brings insights that congealed experience hides from us.

Compare that with those thoughts one's adult children occasionally express which focus on your 'oldness'.  As the elder you are reminded again in this not-so-innocent child's comments that experience is an ever-growing storehouse if one is looking for meaning and beyond the treadmill existence we often settle for in life.  As you gather you may find yourself the butt of some jokes, but what do those 'punks' know?  Well, their thoughts do remind us that we are on a timeline that comes to an end.  Useful, even if alarming.  And we are reminded of our own conceit toward our parents' lives, whether to hold them up as infallible or to lament their comfort with what is not modern.  At my age I know I am both flesh and bone, subject to wear and tear and the stresses that my 'ancient-ness' adds to my mind, body and spirit as I slog along to sanctify my flesh.

(On Christmas Day 2012 the local paper had an article titled 'A Gift' by Kevin Kling  (http://www.startribune.com/audio/184337741.html ) which wonderfully spoke to this melange of freshness and experience you may be facing today as you gather with family.  Check it out.)

Later last night we attended a 10:30 service at a liturgical church, a slight bit outside our norm, but just what I needed.  The cavernous space provoked worship as it bathed us in the warm sound of harp, bell, organ and voice. A baby cried softly behind us; three dressed-to-impress but bored teenagers clicked their tongues behind us.  I was distracted by my disdain at their behavior in such a grand environment.  And then I heard the ancient words, "unto you a child is born" as the pastor spoke of those in this audience that may not want to be here, distracted by presents, health concerns, the excesses of the season, world issues and on an on.  Caught in his insight, I recognized that I was there to worship and not a hostage to the distractions from others.  It was a reminder of that first night in Bethlehem when so many were oblivious to the event, and those who were aware were few and scattered about.

Deb's dad was asked about the age of our Christmas Cactus earlier Christmas Eve, the cactus we inherited from them when they moved to Minneapolis some years ago.  A start from the original plant was blooming in our living room.  The original plant was known to my father-in-law's father as far back as 1907 when his father remembers it in his family home in Britt, IA.  An ancient plant of at least 105 years in 2012, now restarted as plants for our own children also evoke the extent of time.  Today the plant blooms not as ancient and worn out protoplasm but as fresh as the day it entered our great, great great grandparents' life.  Another sign that something old is still vital.

Will you be renewed this season by the history of your life?  Will you find truth in the new expression of the old present about you?  Will you find peace in a runny nose and a child's cry?  Will you find joy in the surprising insight of a little child?  Can you be a little child today?  Jesus is fond of the little children.  Don't be too mature to miss out on your life, as God planned it.  Look for the surprise in this season for you, my friend.  Embrace it with the eyes of a child.

Thinking Outside the Boal: Thinking Outside the BoalThis picture has inspir...

Thinking Outside the Boal: Thinking Outside the Boal

This picture has inspir...: Thinking Outside the Boal This picture has inspired me for some time as a statement about my life over my decades- my attempt to move fr...

Clarification to recent post.  Thank you, friend, for your comment.

In the last paragraph I made what may be a confusing thought:  God is present in the moment, for he is outside it all.  This does seem incongruous, but is a stark theological matter.

If God created all that is, then he is 'outside' it all.  He is as some say, "the Other".  The Bible is clear he created out of nothing, not out of himself.  Now we should debate whether the Bible is literal or figurative in its creation story, but should we debate that this entire universe of ours, multiplied by many others and of space that seems infinite should simply happen by chance.  Science seems to be proving that the odds are increasingly long, dwarfing a winning Powerball ticket's odds, as the complexities and integration of the sub-atomic and the cosmic scales of measure become more unified.

God's 'out-sideness' is what promotes David's comments in Ps. 139.  "You knew my days before I was born."  God is not limited to our experience, I too believe.  He is not surprised by what surprises me.

And so, to my mind and spirit, because I am fearfully and wonderfully made, the one who made me knows better than I what I am experiencing and what will come of it.  I am limited in my appreciation of all the myriad details of my experience, but not without support and insight.

God is continually present because he is absolutely not the same as his creation.  His 'distance' is minuscule, his presence is continual.

Hope that helps you understand my thought, BP!  XX

Thinking Outside the Boal

This picture has inspired me for some time as a statement about my life over my decades- my attempt to move from what seems 'normal' to what is a more complete picture of life and circumstance.

In our debate over whether we grow through nature or nurture, we sometimes forget that the way we are may also be more flexible than we suspect.  We are often Fish out of Water as we learn through life's tests.

In recent days this picture has been inverted a bit so that I think I might identify with Jonah when he was 'enjoying' time in the belly of a fish.  (Don't argue with me whether this is true or allegory, I have seen fish and whales that are much larger than a man.)  My point: sometimes we find ourselves in an unusual situation that is 180 degrees from the plan we had for the day.

So here I am, being cryptic, but suggesting that I am in an unusual situation myself.  And I am.  Please begin speculating.  The best speculation would be that I am the unidentified winner of the huge Powerball a few weeks ago.

Say you are a goldfish, for instance, and your life is characterized by going about in routine circles.  How do you manage the bigger fish in your life?  Do you hide, run, challenge, organize?  Do you acquiesce?  Are you naively oblivious?  Are you afraid or bold?  Do you flinch, or bristle?

And then you find yourself in the belly of that fish thinking, perhaps, of all the smaller fish you have eaten along your way.  At least in Jonah's case he got a chance to refocus instead of becoming the meal.  In an ironic twist, Jonah was the human bone in the fish's throat.  (That's outside the Boal.)

I wonder if you might be in a difficult situation.  Does it not release all sorts of thoughts, some negative, some positive and many more that are simply unanswerable in the moment.

Right now I am finding my time in the fish to be wonderfully beneficial.  I am re-weighing my life purpose and my actions in pursuing that goal.  The clarifications during this time digesting all the questions and answers of these days is a holy matter.  And this time is also therapeutic as I am afforded the opportunity to step back and take a good look at myself and others.

I am not so sure I am a prophet like Jonah, but I know I will come out of this experience stronger in faith and purpose, and perhaps a bit stinkier, too.  But I clean up well, thanks to Christ and the team of friends who have my back.

God is present in the moment, for he is outside it all.  Everything that is our world is outside God from his perspective.  Right now I am trusting in that relationship while a few others are in disarray. Life is good not because of our circumstances, but because this life is the temporary one, a warm-up for the final Act.

Change Agents

Deb and I enjoy three great children and their spouses.  Our granddaughter calls me Papa T, when she sets aside her two-year-old quirks.  How very recently were our own children two.  And now we are a generation beyond that moment.  

Each of our children and their dear spouses are a blessing and a delight to us.  At our recent Turkey-Day gathering here in Minnesota we enjoyed one another thoroughly.  These days I can sit back and relax a bit more as this generation begins to take the reins.  Soon I will be old and decrepit for real, not just in the imaginary way a high-schooler often sees you.  But right now I am watching the guard change.

I relish hearing of the character of my children via their friends and mentors.  I am blessed to see my family moving into adulthood with skill, character and enthusiasm.  I like hearing the good news.

Still, can we ever be certain of the future.  I may not worry about the future for them, but there is a kind of anxiousness of care that may never leave me, no matter how old they are.  

Tonight a friend toasted his daughter and her new husband.  In our private moment we confirmed the emotions of joy, sadness, concern and relief that mix at these transitions.  He's a fine man with another fine family.  Nice to share their joy this evening.  Nicer yet to know that faith in a real truth is deep in this marriage, as in our own children's marriages.  

Our life is a vapor.  How soon the years come to an end.  We think of our decades as a forever, but they pass quickly, and they pass permanently.  We must roll with the transitions or face irrelevance.  A favorite quote about change:

        Those who refuse to change soon find themselves perfectly suited to a world that no longer exists.

What are you living for?  The past?  The future?  This Life?  The next?