Beauty

I spent last week with some beautiful ladies – the types that draw you in with their smiles. She would never admit it but my grandma is one of the most beautiful women I know.

Each woman is a matriarch of a family tree. Ladies of significance. They’ve lived through a Depression, a World War, and cell phones. Their stories are so rich – they were ravishing.

We spent hours around a small kitchen table, drinking tea and telling stories. My Grandma sat with her sisters talking about life on the farm, Scotland, and childhood.

The sisters were teenagers again - talking about first dates. Other times they were older – planning for the future. It was a privilege to watch – I wanted to soak it all in.

Sometimes they would just sit and hold hands.

My Great Aunt has dementia. Her sister came from Alberta to share a cup of tea. Her mind has become a puzzle- leaving her thoughts in fragments. Within the confusion there were a few moments of clarity. Sweet minutes – never to be forgotten.

A week later, I can’t stop thinking about those ladies. About the laughter piercing through a hard reality. It was a celebration of life. Perhaps we need to celebrate life more.

Cheesewiz and Marshmallow Cream

The radio in my car recently gave up its fight for survival, leaving me with a lot of time to think. After a rather silent drive to the Vancouver airport this weekend , I started thinking about lifeboats.

I’ll admit that spending three hours pondering the nature of lifeboats is a little strange but it’s amazing what lengths I will go to keep myself entertained. I just finished a book called, Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller. Throughout the book, he makes an interesting analogy between life and a lifeboat.

When you think about it, existence in a lifeboat would be pretty challenging. Can you imagine being stuck on a floating piece of rubber with a bunch of people you do not know? What if provisions were limited and you had to convince others that you were worthy of a spot on the boat?

I can picture it now. All the survivors are gathered around our minuscule provisions; one can of tuna, a few stale crackers and a bottle of spring water. A debate is raging about who deserves to stay in the lifeboat. I figure if I stay quiet, no one will notice I am hanging out in the raft. Suddenly the spotlight shines on me and the guy next to me pipes up.

“Aren’t you the one who tried out for the every sports team in Junior High School but got cut for being too small? Now that I think of it, you also eat marshmallow cream and Cheesewiz straight from the jar,” he says.

I have been discovered and the tap dance begins. I feel that I need to prove myself and establish my spot on dry land. I quickly go through my list achievements trying to think of something great but I am grasping at straws.

“I spend a lot of time writing down ideas and well (I stammer) my Mom thinks I am pretty funny,” I say.

From the looks of my fellow survivors, they are unconvinced so I keep talking. I tell them I used to be a synchronized swimmer and have run a few marathons. Still nothing but to my horror a decision is made. Since I know how to swim, I am chosen to walk the plank.

It might be a stretch but I agree with Miller’s idea that life in North America is similar to a lifeboat. Sometimes I find myself chatting about my activities in hopes that people will take notice and think I am cool. I am constantly searching for approval in almost every aspect of my life. I dare say that if you stop for a moment, you might discover the same.

The funny thing is I believe we were designed to need acceptance and live in community. I think it’s easy to get caught up in lifeboat culture, thinking that others or ourselves are somehow better. According to Judeo-Christian traditions, there is a fact I often miss, we are all equal and there is enough room in the lifeboat for all of us.

I know for some people it is hard to grasp that they are in fact worthy. After years of struggling to survive in the lifeboat, it can be exhausting. For me life is more than a lifeboat full of achievement because one look at the design of a leaf and I am convinced there has to be more to it.

Lifeboat or not, my challenge for myself and others is to look beyond the lifeboat for truth. If the search is in earnest, I believe you will find it.

Ever feel like this?

I just like this picture of Kade. He makes me smile.

Dangerous Thought

I got an email from a friend in Liberia tonight and it made me think. It’s a scary thing to stop and think.
He’s on this thing called a Mercy Ship, which is part of a global charity that has operated hospital ships in developing nations since 1978. It’s a Christian organization so the motto is to follow the example of Jesus - bringing hope and healing to the forgotten poor, mobilizing people and resources worldwide and serving all people without regard to religion, race, or gender.
The roof of a remote orphanage in Liberia was blown off in a storm, creating thousands of dollars worth of damage. My friend said the children cried like someone died when the roof disappeared. He admitted it’s hard to justify the contrasts between the Whistler Bubble and Liberia.
“It’s like we don’t even live on the same planet,” he wrote.
It makes you stop and think, which is uncomfortable. This whole trend toward thought got worse when I read a quote from an obscure pastor in Michigan. His question was simple but lead to thinking and I started to sweat.
“Can you imagine what would happen if a group of people with untold resources, passion and energy started asking the question, “How do we hear the cry of the oppressed?” What if they were actually willing to wade into the cultural, economic, racial, global and personal issues involved without fear with the confidence that no matter how painful, messy and volatile it got, Jesus would guide them the whole way? You’d have some church on your hands.”
I know the word Christian often conjures up images of plastic people too judgmental to be authentic. It’s a dirty word but let’s get past the stereotypes. Regardless of your gender, sexual orientation, religion, or race – there is value in the idea of wading in and trying to see beyond ourselves. It’s messy, it’s human but every once in awhile something good happens.
It’s Easter this weekend. For Christians it’s sort of a big deal. When I was a kid, it was the only time my family would show up at church. I would sit uncomfortably in a dress – wondering when the Easter Bunny was going to show up.
Easter was originally a pagan celebration of renewal and rebirth. It was later merged with the Christian belief of Jesus’s resurrection from the dead. For some people it’s a time of reflection, celebration, and thinking.
Regardless of your views, again there is value in reflection. Tonight I thought about Liberia. I thought about the Whistler Bubble. I thought about my tendency to be plastic.
Does thinking inspire movement? Does thought somehow absolve any responsibility to wade in – to attempt authenticity?
What if thought inspired some holy mischief in Whistler? I am not into 12-step schemes toward personal or spiritual wholeness. But some writers at Geez Magazine came up with some practical ideas around social justice. Take it or leave it but don’t be scared to think.
1.Give your winter coat away to someone who is colder than you are. 2. Try sitting in silence for 15 minutes a day. 3. Kill your TV. 4. Get a World Vision child. 5. Go to a retirement home and ask to visit a few old folks who don’t get any visitors. 6. Eat locally 7. Buy only thrift clothes for a year. 8. Seek truth.
Tons of people in this corridor are creating mischief with Slow Food Cycles, serving in Africa, volunteering at Balding for Dollars, and taking care of animals. It all started with thinking. It’s a dangerous thing.