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It Takes a Table

I'm participating in a 10-month program in Co-Active Leadership this year.  The first component, a six-day program at a beautiful retreat center in North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains, ended last Sunday.  For major parts of those six days, our group had been sitting in chairs that looked lovely and fit the decor well, but did not make my lower back and hip joints happy at all.  I found a small end-table with a lower shelf that was a good height to prop my feet on, and life became more comfortable.

The table began to accumulate things.  I'd put my journal and pen on the shelf when I wasn't writing.  The person on my left would add hers.  The person on my right would set his coffee cup on it.  People began to cluster a bit. As we re-gathered after a break, one of the leaders remarked on the little village we were building.  I joked, "Well, you know how you always say 'It takes a village'? I say, 'It takes a table to build a village.'"

It takes a table to build a village.

If You Were a Building . . .

A fellow coach posted this question in a Facebook group of coaches:  "If you were an iconic building, which one would you be and what would that say about your identity in the world?"
First off, let me just say that I'm terrible at "If you were a _______, what would you be?"  As a Scanner, I have a hard time picking just one thing.  I always hear, even if it's not stated, an implied understanding that I could only ever pick one thing, and that would have to be my choice for all time.  I can't possibly choose between so many fabulous options.

This time I gave myself a different permission.  Here's what I wrote:


First I have to remember that the question only has to be 
"Which iconic building would you be right now." It doesn't have to be the one I'd pick to be forever and ever. Ok. Permission granted. So what just popped into my head for right now? Lambeau Field.

Now, I'll have to think about what that says. If you're a Green Bay Packer fan, you might not need an explanation of why someone might be Lambeau Field if they could choose any iconic building to be.  In case you're not, read on.

You Have to Know So Many Things

"Don't let them ruin her." -- My kindergarten teacher, talking to my mom.

"It's so hard. You have to know so many things to be a good girl." -- A friend's three-year-old daughter, after he told her why it wasn't a good idea to throw books at people.  (She'd chucked her book at him after storytime, leaving him with a nice bruise or two on his forehead, but I digress.)

Pebbles with cowboy
boots.  What's not to
love?

This three-year-old has been the source of a huge number of wise, insightful, hilarious, and beyond-her-years quotations since she has been able to talk.  Her dad posts them regularly to the internet group which is the only context for our acquaintance.  I've followed her journey since before she was born.  Her parents are marvelous chroniclers, and there have been pictures and stories galore.  I feel as though I know her better than some of the children I've met in "meatspace."

Joy.  Just joy.

  What I've seen in her through all the photos and all the stories and all her amazing quotable quotes is an almost unadulterated joy.  There's a creative spirit in this child that won't quit.  There's a brain that's busy processing All the Things.  All the time. And you have to know so many of them to be a good girl.

I can't remember being three.  Or four.  Or five, really.

Scanners and Divers

I love to scan the wide horizon in Georgian Bay.

I read a Facebook exchange the other day in which the participants were mentioning being "scanners" instead of "divers". I didn't have much time to look carefully then, but the terms stayed with me and I got curious. A little web searching led me to a book by Barbara Sher called Refuse to Choose. Sher directs her work at those people who say they can never stick to anything, have trouble picking something to focus on, don't went to choose a major because to do so means you can't pick all the other things that fascinate you, don't seem to find the one career path that will keep them happy. She says that many of these people are likely "Scanners", people who in another age might have been called Renaissance Souls, people who are fascinated by so many things that they can rarely bring themselves to focus on just one. They approach learning about something with great enthusiasm, and then, when they have learned what they want to about that subject, are ready to move on to something else. Unlike Divers, who love to dive down into the depths of an interest, Scanners keep scanning the horizon to see what else is out there.

It was like she had been watching me through a one-way mirror since I was a child.

Fierce Love

I stand for the power of fierce love to change the dream of the world.

"O Love that wilt not let me go" are the first words of an 1882 hymn by George Matheson.  Love that will not let go it doesn't get more fierce than this. It doesn't get more insistent. It doesn't get deeper. It doesn't get stronger.

That fierce, insistent, powerful love is the primary thread that runs through all my "Life Purpose Statements" in one of the columns over on the right-hand side of this page. Love is the current of connection, the juice of partnership, the energy of relationship. Fierce love champions, encourages, challenges, protects, inspires, and above all holds on and won't let go. Fierce love holds a vision of what is possible and believes that the possible will become the actual. Fierce love has the power to change lives, to change the world.

Magnificence in August

August is nearly over. It has been a glorious month. It's been an odd summer. Last year I did  a lot of biking all summer. I wanted to be out earlier this summer, but May was freezing, June was windy and filled with the Wisconsin Conference Annual Meeting, winding up my work as Association Minister, and closing my office. July was scorching hot - weeks of 100+ degree weather or rain. Lots of rain. Heat and rain. Rain and heat. It was not good biking weather. It was good whining weather, and I'm sure I did some of that.

But August. Ah, August.

The Tormentor

I've been working out with Dawn the Tormentor fairly consistently for the last four years.  Look at her, over there on the right.  She looks dangerous, powerful, deadly -- right?

She's great, of course, despite her having tried to kill me approximately twice a week for four years.

I may be the only person who hired a trainer and then gained weight for two years. 

From "If Only" to "What If" -- Changing the Dream

Ten people sat around the table in the church’s Fellowship Hall. Together the members of the church council represented about 25% of the church’s total active membership and about 50-75% of its average weekly worship attendance. Their pastor had just moved on, and they had invited me there to talk about options for pastoral leadership.

I knew that what I was really there to talk about was change.

Failure? Or Detour?

I'm trying to become a fan of failure.

For the last 19 months, I've been on a journey toward improved health and fitness.  I've lost about 160 pounds with more to go, gained actual hard biceps and some ab muscles I can begin to feel at least a little bit.  I can walk for several miles, ride a bike for 20-30 miles, walk up and down stairs with ease, and do all kinds of things I couldn't do before.  Using many measures, I've had a lot of success.

I also had a tough winter.  Stress, grief, and anxiety in many forms took their toll, as did what felt like too many months of cold and snow.  I gained back about fifteen pounds, maybe a little more.  A couple of days ago, I read a blog over on SparkPeople from someone who had done the same thing.  She talked about it as her "failure."  She made a vow not to fail again.  I recoiled from this, and I began to wonder why.

Risen Christ vs. Zombie Jesus

May 1, 2011 | Second Sunday of Easter Year A

1 Peter 1:3-9, John 20:19-31

I'll be the first to confess that I have missed a fair number of popular culture memes. I try to stay on top of things, but I'm often pretty much behind the curve. So I was late, for example, on vampires. I read one of Anne Rice's books, but didn't really get the appeal. And I never got to see Buffy the Vampire Slayer until after the series was over. I fell in love with it and ended up buying it on DVD. And although some of my online friends were talking about zombies a couple of years ago, and sending pictures of the makeup and costumes they been putting together for zombie parties, I didn't get it.

Apparently, zombies have had a resurgence in popular culture in recent years. I'd seen hints. I'd seen a hint of it in a book called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, A sort of "Mr. Darcy meets the undead" thing. Now if you are a fan of Jane Austin and zombies, it sounds like it's just the ticket. I didn't quite get the fullness of the zombie metaphor,  however, until last Sunday. Last Sunday, Easter, I was looking at my Facebook feed in the evening when I ran across a status update from a friend of mine who said "I have to admit, Easter kind of freaks me out. No offense, but the whole Zombie Jesus thing is really freaky to those of us on the outside. Just so you know. I sort of understand the idea, but, um, Zombie Jesus, you know?"

A Resurrection Stand for Life and Hope

John 20:1-18

Easter Sunday, Year A

This is the day. This is the day that God has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. This is the day that for me is the day is essential to Christianity. This is Easter day. Resurrection Day. Years ago I was in discussion with a friend who wasn’t sure it mattered whether the resurrection really happened. She said "It doesn’t affect my faith one way or the other if it was a historical event." I disagreed.  

I believed then as I do today that without the resurrection, there would be no Christian faith. Without Easter, there is no reason for Jesus to have been anything other than a preacher, a prophet, a rabble-rouser who was crucified by the Romans. Without Easter, there is no reason for Paul and Peter to take the message of Jesus Christ the world outside Jerusalem and Israel. Without Easter, there is no reason for the church.

Enough Dreams

It's been a long time since I posted anything here. Maybe this is a start. This is the sermon I preached at the Annual Meeting of the Northwest Wisconsin Association of the United Church of Christ, the last for which I will serve as Association Minister.

Exodus 16:10-20, 2 Corinthians 9:6-12

I've been feeling a little like Job lately. As I look back on it, I’ve had a heck of a three or four months. It started at Thanksgiving when I cooked for my family at my house for the first time in years, leaving the Saturday after that for a week in Cancun with friends, coming back from that to assist at a three-day workshop and then to go down immediately to De Forest for a staff meeting from which I came back to find that Rhonda, our wonderful secretary and my good friend had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. We barely had time to get used to her diagnosis before we found that she would have not the four to six months that the doctors originally thought, but a mere couple of weeks left to live. Rhonda died on January 15, and her funeral was on January 21. It was a very difficult month for her family, for everyone in the Association, and for me. February 3, we welcomed our new secretary, Mimi. February 5, I learned that my uncle had died, and I flew to Ohio on the 16th to visit with my family and to preach at his memorial service. I flew home on the 20th.

Except I didn't get to come home.