Won over to the Little Way

St. Therese of Lisieux.... she's like the popular girl at school.  Everyone talks about her, everyone gets her class picture.  It would be comforting if she would at least be a mean girl, and then you would be justified in your envious dislike of her - but she is among other things, the kindest, most loving person in the room.

Throughout my faith journey, St. Therese has been the one fly in the saint ointment for me.  I did not care to read Story of a Soul.  In college, I felt obligated to be inspired by her "little way," but instead I felt irritated.  She seemed so coddled, so perfect.  So loved and admired.  Her journey to God seemed too easy, too...little, for my taste.

Instead, I preferred saints of a stronger mettle - St. Teresa of Avila, who bravely discoursed with kings and popes, who spoke plainly and honestly and often made me laugh.  I preferred Mother Theresa of Calcutta, who got in and DID something.  St. Therese of Lisieux in a convent... my real, honest wondering was, what did she DO?

"We cannot do great things, but we can do small things with great love." - Mother Theresa

The funny thing is, that sometimes I have a sense that St. Therese adopted me somewhere along the way.  It would be just like her to choose the person who liked her least, and choose to love and pray for her, wouldn't it?  How annoying.  And yet, over the past several years, my opinion of her has begun to change. 

I was initially turned off by the "little" way, and how small the returns would be.  I looked for a grand design, a big plan.  Early in my faith, I wanted God's call for my life to be something BIG.  Ordinary things didn't inspire me.  I could see the need to love my brothers and sisters halfway across the world and just as easily ignore my brothers and sisters before me. 

Sometimes I think one of the greatest catchphrases that influenced my advent into the Catholic Christian lifestyle was "God has a big plan for your life." To quote Anne of Green Gables, this phrase has a lot of 'scope for the imagination.' In my imaginings, this plan would be monumental - a career as a Christian singer/songwriter, perhaps.  It would be fueled with important encounters with people in which hearts were changed, lives won over, in which everything grew in significance.  Life would be one long succession of great moments.

"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin." 

  Mother Theresa   



Throughout my 20s, the more I searched for these moments, these evidences of a "big plan," the more frustrated I became.  Life was not moving along as expected.  Something must have gone wrong.  Either the phrase about God's "big plan" was just a flashy embellishment on the truth, or I had done something wrong because I didn't feel I was living according to a big plan. 

"Mother Theresa always said, "Calcuttas are everywhere if only we have eyes to see. Find your Calcutta." Shane Claiborne

And this is where, after years of pushing her away, St. Therese has reentered my life.  Where the hope of largeness and significance has left me disappointed, now the Little Way has begun to inspire me to a different kind of greatness.  Because, according to the Little Way, all that we do is important.

“It is love alone that gives worth to all things.”  St. Teresa of Avila 

According to the Little Way, where I live and work is not the point.  My success in God's plan has nothing to do with my success in "the real world." Whether I live in a convent, a cluttered apartment, or a large mansion, I can live the Little Way. 

According to the Little Way, my status, either single, married, a nun, does not matter.  I can love God and others in any one of these vocations, and if I love Him faithfully, I am a success in God's plan. 

According to the Little Way, my possessions, my career, the good and difficult things that happen to me - these are all useful, are all resources leading to the success of God's plan.  I can use anything in this world as material with which to love God, serve Him, follow Him.

“Christ has no body now on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which to look out
Christ's compassion to the world
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about
doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.” 

St. Teresa of Avila 



According to the Little Way, it doesn't matter if I share my music with a crowd of 5,000 people, 50,000, or 5.  If I play this music with love, I am a success in God's plan.

So, washing the dishes for my roommates is not just a chore, it's an act of love.  Smiling at the person who hurt my feelings, though hard, is an act of love.  Giving someone a glass of water, a kind word, when I could be doing something else, has value.  Making my own bed in the morning can be an act of love. 

"Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love." 

St. Therese of Lisieux           



I no longer resent St. Therese of Lisieux.  Her Little Way has been a saving grace, a reminder of what really matters, in my 30th year. 

What are you practicing for?

"See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains" James 5:7

My parish priest pointed out this week, that one drop of rain seems to do very little, and even one day of rain hardly makes a difference for a crop.  But in the end, all of these drops of rain together have led to the production of the crop, and have a hand in its harvest.  How is a plant built then? Drop by drop by drop.

If we look for a result from each drop, we will experience frustration and annoyance.  It is the collective effort that matters, and the collective effort takes time, a larger vision, and patience.

This morning it occurred to me that I practice a skill every day that I am hardly aware of.

Every day, I spend a few hours looking over the shoulder of a piano student at a music book, somewhat like this guy here:

 I am focused on teaching in those moments, translating symbols on a page into beautiful music for the student to enjoy.



But in the meantime, all those hours and hours of practice have led me to develop a skill.  Now I am able to glance at a piece of music for five minutes and memorize the entire thing. I have memorized Fur Elise, Minuet in G, and lots of other fun little pieces, just by watching the music over my student's shoulder. 

I have been practicing reading.  I have been practicing synthesizing patterns of music and generating large-scale plans from them.  Today, I wrote out Carol of the Bells for a student, using triangles and squares to represent musical patterns that repeated.  Without needing to notate on the staff, the student walked away with a clear picture of the music in an easy way to understand. 

The point of this isn't to brag about this skill, although I was amazed to realize I now have an ability to do something complex without really focusing, or trying to develop it.  Nonetheless, I have practiced it every day.

When we aren't counting each single drop of rain in our lives, we tend not to notice the collective effort, the overall development.  We practice many habits without thinking of what they will one day become for us.  Sometimes it helps to think about what positive daily habits will create for our lives in general. 

-Doing household chores each day eventually leads you to find creative ways to make big jobs more efficient.

-Practicing kind words of affirmation for family members leads to harmony and good spirit in the household

-Remembering to see and thank people for the little things they do to make your life easier leads to good friendships

-Habits of decorating the house for each season leads to your children developing an excitement about each season of life

-Practicing an awareness of the needs of those around you leads to a life of generosity and love

-Practicing getting up at the same time each morning leads to greater discipline in your life, which leads to regularity and a sense of purpose. 

-Practicing making your bed and keeping your space tidy leads to a sense of your own worth and value

-Practicing thinking kindly toward yourself as a friend leads you to patience with yourself and room for you to be who you are and grow to who you are meant to be. 

Rejoice always

"Rejoice, Rejoice, Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel."

I have heard these lines my entire life, and played them on the piano for almost as long.  I know that the moment in the song calls for a nice big forte, and sometimes it feels exciting to stumble on the triumphant major chord after all those mournful minor chords. 

But this morning I had a new realization:

The Rejoicing in the Song precedes Christ's coming.

I've always sung O Come O Come Emmanuel safely on the other side of the incarnation, death and resurrection of Jesus.  After everything is clear and everything is obvious.  Duh, of course Emmanuel will come to thee, O Israel - how could you ever have doubted that?

But today I realized - this song is written from the perspective of before all that.  It is written from the vantage of a waiting time, a time before gifts received.  It is written from a time of doubt, chaos, confusion. 

By this point, Israel was long past the hopeful image of descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky.  Moses had come to lead them to the Promised land, and they ended up wandering for 40 years, and then they fell in with all sorts of other people, and many lost their beliefs.  And then Israel totally split into Northern and Southern kingdoms - which certainly must have filled many hearts with doubt about where all this was leading.  God may have promised something great to begin with, but then there came schisms, and corruption, and acts of treachery. 

I kind of laugh at the term "hot mess." Israel was in a pretty hot mess at this point. 

And STILL, in the midst of it, are these words: REJOICE!

And not because they had seen the great king they were looking for, but because they had hope that He WOULD come. 

Sometimes when I am waiting, I find it hard to rejoice.  Instead, I find it easier to worry.  And if I rejoice, it's half-hearted, because for all that, I'm really not sure it will all be okay in the end.

Why is it easier NOT to rejoice when we haven't seen the answer we seek?  Why is it easier to resort to, "It will never happen.  I'm crazy to hope for this,"  rather than to give ourselves fully to joyful expectation?

And why might it be good to rejoice when our hands are empty?

Rejoicing - - - opens my eyes to receive.  It welcomes answers in whatever form they will come. 
Rejoicing - - - predisposes me for hope, and good things are drawn in.
Rejoicing - - - keeps the lines of communication open between me and God, rather than turning God
                        into my enemy.

Living a Daily Rhythm

My spiritual director is asking me to work on daily discipline. 

 

I love lists.  I love schedules, plans, and organizing mechanisms of all sorts.  I love to cross that little box and scratch out that little To-Do item.  But for some reason, my first reaction to her words last week was  - rebellion.  I didn't want to live each day by a list.  I didn't want to spend a certain amount of time in prayer, a certain amount of time exercising, a certain amount studying and working. 

 

 

The more I thought about it, the more I felt like life, with its momentary inspirations, feelings, impressions, would be locked into blocks of pre-planned, pre-scheduled time.  Would I become a robot?  Would I begin to lose who I am?

 

 

 

The word "Discipline" is a little scary that way.  It feels to me like forcing an order which isn't natural. 

 

But then I thought of a word that captured it better: Rhythm.  Getting my life into a daily rhythm.  Now, that isn't so bad.  That even sounds a little like music.

 

 

 

 

 

Out for a walk today, I was noticing how beautiful the leaves are at this time of year.  Especially in Minnesota, where Fall isn't just three days long.  Some of the trees are red, yellow and green at the same time, a natural sort of rainbow tree. 

 

 

Then it occurred to me how seasons can be appreciated because of this natural rhythm and order of time.  I love fall because of sweaters, hot cocoa, Halloween, dark houses lit up inside.  But then winter has its merits too - snow angels, snowmobiling (for my brother), gingerbread.  Nature isn't stifled by its rhythm; rather, the rhythm of the seasons enhances the beauty of each time. 

 

There are other rhythms, too, that give nature an order and a meaning, but also which enhance its beauty.  Tidal waves, for instance.  The presence of the golden mean. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then what about me as a human being? Can my own life be enhanced by living in a certain rhythm?  When I am not living under the sway of impulses and feelings, but rather living a disciplined existence?  And even with "rhythm," can there still be room for inspiration, adventure, impulses?

 

 

Here are a few things I've noticed:

 

*Now that I am exercising daily, I can feel that I am making progress.  I can feel my muscles getting more toned and am increasing endurance.  Knowing that I am making progress gives me a sense of purpose and joy.  Life feels like it has direction and is leading somewhere good.

 

*I don't feel like exercising every day, but I do anyway (most of the time).  I am conscious that my willpower is growing, and this is also an overall gain.  I am happy knowing that I can make goals and keep them.

 

*Making daily time for prayer has given me a focus to each day and a sense of direction.  God seems close and a part of each day, not just an afterthought.  This time for prayer and silence causes me to consider how to treat others, greater self knowledge and opens me up to necessary changes.

 

*Daily habits, like exercise, have opened my life up to unexpected joys.  When I watch Netflix or browse Facebook all day, I tend to feel sluggish and gross by the end of the day.  On my walk the other day, I noticed some really beautiful things that brought me a sense of awe and wonder.  I realized that in loving myself enough to make this daily habit, my life is opening up to receive joy. 

 

*Though discipline is hard, the overall results have been good (sense of purpose and direction, joy, gratitude, belief in myself).  These effects build me up rather than keep me down, and help me in turn to build others up. 

 

 

 

A Spirit of Impoverishment vs. The Kingdom Mentality

One day I identified a Spirit of Impoverishment in myself.  Where did it come from? It was such an ugly little spirit that I hesitate to reveal it in a blog.  Let's just say that if this spirit of impoverishment were embodied, it would look like this:

What sorts of thoughts come from a Spirit of Impoverishment?  Well, I suppose thoughts like this:
                   - "Everybody else has what I want. Everyone else has something figured out that I don't."
                   - "God doesn't really care about me, or has forgotten all about me."
                   - "I am always trying to catch up."
                   - "I will  never be fixed enough/healed enough/redeemed enough to live a joyful life."
                   - "God has a wonderful plan for everyone else's life but me."

And in the Spirit of Impoverishment, there was a lot of dwelling, and thinking, and living, in my own concerns. 

I felt impoverished of the Love that is bigger than myself. 

We condemn selfishness and greed in others, and we are horrified to find it in ourselves, and yet we often don't see that the underlying problem is fear:

Fear that we aren't loved.
Fear that if we don't grasp for ourselves, our needs will not be met.
Fear that if we don't dwell on our own concerns, no one else will care for them.
Fear that we will be forgotten if we don't assert control.
Fear that we are not loveable at heart.

When operating from this spirit, I found that my actions were those which increased a sense of self-loathing and insecurity, even as I hoped to overcome them.  I talked only of myself with friends.  I wore baggy or unattractive clothing.  I ate fattening foods and neglected exercise.  I spent more time alone.

At some point after I recognized the Spirit of Impoverishment guiding my thoughts and actions, I had another thought:

What if I thought of myself, not as this ugly gremlin, but as a beautiful princess in my Father's palace?

Okay, maybe this seems silly.  But the imagery worked for me.  If, inside, I believe that I live here:

That a good and gracious Father shares all that He has with me:

That I have been given gifts to share with all those in the palace, and that they also have gifts to share with me:

That there is a special place for me where I am treasured, loved and allowed to be who I am:

That there is enough for everyone in the castle, including me.

If I believe all of this is true, then,,,
                                        I no longer have to think only of myself. 
                                        I can accept that the gifts of others only increase the blessing for all.
                                        I am free to give what I have, not grasp for myself
                                        I live in a spirit of joy rather than of pain
                                        I am serene in the sense of my worth and the sense of being loved.

If I am operating from the Kingdom mentality instead of the Spirit of Impoverishment, I have found that I make better decisions. My thoughts are centered on those around me.  I take care of myself by exercising, eating healthily and getting better sleep.  I can be patient in bad traffic, knowing that my needs are going to be met, somehow, and even irritating circumstances can bring good.  I give myself more room to be. 

The Kingdom mentality focuses my attention on a good Father whose love is bigger than me, and this really does change everything.

Teaching is like playing catch

Teaching, I just realized, is like playing catch. 

As a teacher, I often catch myself struggling with a sense of over-responsibility.  If the student came unprepared (didn't know the notes, the hand position, the rhythm, or the music just didn't flow) there must have been something I didn't do right.  I work hard to plan lessons that cover every hole, every gap in understanding.

But I am a human being too - I miss things.  As hard as I might try, I can't see into my student's mind and see what he sees or understands. 

Sometimes the greatest thing I can do for my student is to stop doing for my student.  To stop covering all those gaps.  But usually then I feel like I am doing nothing to help.  It feels a little like I have stopped working hard for those results - learning.

Teaching is like playing catch.  In order to have success in learning, the student and teacher have to be present - physically, mentally, prepared.  Both have to be in tune.  Both have to be on time. 

If one (teacher or student) is doing all the work, taking all responsibility for the "ball" (learning), then the other (teacher or student) disengages, loses interest, loses a job and a role.  For successful learning, a teacher needs to have good boundaries - a clear sense of what is her responsibility, and what is the student's.  And students learn what their responsibilities are from the teacher.  If the teacher takes over whenever the student doesn't practice, the student learns that it is unnecessary to practice. 

One memory I have of growing up is how unprepared I often was for school.  I would forget to put all of my books in the same place each day, or forget an assignment, or skip over the tricky things in order to get finished with my homework as soon as possible.  My mom, on the other hand, was an extremely prepared and organized person.  I knew that whether I left my books scattered on the living room table, or by my shoes, they would be neatly sitting in my backpack the next morning for me to see.

By taking responsibility for me, my mom saved me from feeling the pain of my lack of responsibility from others.  Later on, I had to pay for the lack of good habits of preparation and forethought (well, I am still paying for them, honestly :) and I had to learn better habits.

Playing catch means that the student gains a sense of responsibility from the mistakes they make.  The teacher offers clear feedback and tosses the ball again.  The student gains an opportunity to try again and see whether learning is happening or not. 

Interstice

Sometimes I'm afraid to leave an empty space. 

Teaching piano, I'm very aware of the 30-minute space I get, once a week, with each student.  Minutes of silence don't feel productive, then.  They feel like wasted space. 


Sometimes I find myself asking a question, and a minute goes by while the student thinks.  Inside, my mind is reeling with the answer.  My tongue is full of the temptation to fill the empty space with the solution.


Recently, I've started becoming aware that when I fill those empty spaces with my own answers, my students walk away with empty spaces where thinking has not happened. 


We are a "doing" culture, a culture primed on coffee and long workdays.  And sometimes too many empty spaces are being filled by doing that ought to be left empty by waiting, by listening, by thinking.


A baby reaches out his hands in the empty space as he tries to reach my hands.  But it is the empty space, not my hands saving him from the empty space, which prompts the first step.


A teacher presents a student with an assignment that needs to be done in the next week.  In this empty space of a week, there is a challenge - will the student do the assignment and learn from it, or not?


I struggle in prayer for an answer - why won't God tell me what to do? But in the silence of the empty space, I begin seeking, asking, discovering.


I ask my friend a question - does she want to meet me for coffee? And in the empty space I wait for her to say yes or no.  I have no control over the response, which comes freely from her.  I realize that there is an empty space in me, a need for the friendship of others, which I am unable to fill on my own.


I have an hour of free time, an empty space which makes me uncomfortable.  I want to turn on the tv, the internet, the radio, iTunes, rather than experience the silence. 


I am sensing an invitation in my life to make more room for those empty spaces, to recognize the gift inherent in them, to stop filling them in when it gets uncomfortable.   To stop filling them in for other people.  To take the risk of asking the question.  To take a step without knowing what the second step will be. 

Why we can't get no satisfaction

Working at Dairy Queen in high school, I often reflected that food service employees see what is worst in humanity.  On hot days, with lines going well out the door for ice cream, I saw people inflamed into anger over a 6-cent price increase, or a longer wait time, or even a forgotten spoon.  We were trained in the art of "customer satisfaction," to reward immature outbursts with smiles and free coupons.

A few days ago, I saw a commercial in which people around the world purposefully ruined their perfectly working phones in favor of the newest, next best model.

"I'm not satisfied."
"Satisfy me."

These phrases are everywhere, either blatantly spoken or latent within commercial messaging.  This is the cry of our world, and particularly the first worlders among us.  The words embarrass me.  They reveal such selfishness and greed.

I want to say, "Hey first-worlders!" (including me).  "We really don't need anything, okay? And if anything, we need less, not more!"

But I've been realizing the opposite....
         ....First world countries DO have a big, gaping-hole of a need.
         ---And we need not less, but more, to satisfy us.

The truth: this cry, "I am not satisfied," is not merely selfishness.  It is a genuine reality of the human heart, wrongly disguised within our consequent inclinations for ice cream, smart phones, relationships, and fast cars.  We hunger for satisfaction, something to fill a real emptiness, something to make us feel more alive. 

Commercials hit on this real truth - that we are not satisfied.  And in hearing that need identified, we suddenly feel heard, validated.  And before we've had any time to process where this satisfaction may be found, the commercial fills in the blank with the next alluring perfume, technology, or weight loss program.  We go out and buy whatever product most appeals to that emptiness, later to find ourselves before another commercial, still seeking validation - "I am still not satisfied.." the same sentiment that will leave us ready to buy more. We repeat this cycle over and over again because what we are doing is insane - the presented "cure" to our lack of satisfaction is not really the cure.

First-worlders really do need more.  We need more than a new makeup, the best iphone.  We need Jesus Himself. 

"Jesus said to Philip, 'Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?'" John 6:5

"They ate and were satisfied." Matthew 15: 37

"Jesus said to them...'The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.' 
 So they said to him, 'Sir, give us this bread always.'
Jesus said to them, 'I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.'" John 6:35

In the Gospel, all ate and were satisfied.  Our highest human destiny is to be satisfied, but satisfied in Christ. 

And surprisingly, the only one in the Gospel who says "I thirst," is Jesus.  Jesus' destiny is to remain in a state of thirst - a thirst to satisfy our hearts.

When the Truth is scary

"At that time Herod the tetrarch heard the reports about Jesus, and he said to his attendants, “This is John the Baptist; he has risen from the dead! That is why miraculous powers are at work in him.”
Now Herod had arrested John and bound him and put him in prison because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, for John had been saying to him: “It is not lawful for you to have her.”  Herod wanted to kill John." Matthew 14: 1-5

Herod was quick to think, after John the Baptist was beheaded, that his spirit came back in Jesus.  Was it because he was afraid?  John the Baptist had a power that Herod would always fear - the Truth.  And Herod could tell lies with his life all he wanted with everyone else's approval, killing the single truth-teller, but he could not kill the truth, and would always fear those who reminded him of it as long as his actions were against it. 

In effect, Herod was right: because Jesus IS the Truth, John the Baptist's spirit of truth was alive in Jesus.  Jesus raised the same unquiet in Herod that he experienced from John the Baptist. 

I just realized that King Henry VIII and Thomas More had a very similar relationship to that of Herod and John the Baptist.  Henry VIII wanted to form the Church of England because the pope would not call it lawful to divorce his wife and marry Anne Boleyn. Thomas More alone refused as a matter of conscience to accept Henry VIII as head of the Church of England, and Henry, too, felt compelled to put him to death for treason. 

What a paradox - that the ones who died in both stories, remaining true to their consciences, had a greater freedom than the ones who lived.  And even though John the Baptist and Thomas More seem to have lost the battle, they were still feared by Herod and Henry VIII ultimately even after death.  What Herod and Henry VIII feared was the truth, because they had chosen against it. 

When I was little (maybe 6), I learned something about lies at a shoe store.  I was wandering around, and saw this shoe sole lying on the floor.  It was kind of interesting and spongy and my first instinct was to put it in my pocket.  I will never forget how judged and incriminated I felt when my "truth teller" - the shoplifting detector in the doorway - went off.  Red with embarrassment, I ran to the aisle and put the shoe sole back where I'd found it.  Afterward, I proudly walked through the silent doorway, feeling free again and so proud to be able to walk through without being beeped at. 

When we are telling a lie - against ourselves, against others, against God - we appear to get everything we want, but we lack peace.  We might be under the illusion that what we hope to gain through the lie is greater than the restless ache.  We start to transfer our lack of peace into criticism and accusation of those whose words or actions are confirming the truth.  The truth begins to be scary, an enemy, it appears be after us.  We find a way to kill the truth-tellers - either bodily or in spirit, to bring about the inner calm we crave.  We want peace, but we also want the thing we gain from the lie.   

Peace comes at a cost, though - and the cost is relinquishing the lie and returning to the truth.  It is always worth it, but one of the greatest struggles to let a lie in our life be transformed, because we have to die some kind of death to what we think we need to achieve it. 

The Day-Long Bucket List

"Of the present time, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which our Enemy has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them."
 - C.S. Lewis, Screwtape Letters

A few years ago, probably inspired by the movie, everyone started talking about their "Bucket List." It's a great idea to think big in your life - to think about the places you want to go and the larger experiences you want to have. 

But I was thinking this week, how much emphasis I tend to put on the future and on the past, and how little my heart and mind are firmly rooted in the present.  That's when I came up with the Day-Long Bucket List. 

It's not a to-do list.  The idea is to make a list on a piece of paper, of all the things you want as a part of that day.  The important things. 

I've tried this idea out for the past three days, because I was finding that my time was being sucked up by the internet.  Needless online searches, Netflix watching, facebook, and email checking.  At the end of the day, I didn't look back thankful for the way I spent that time, but more regretted the fact that I hadn't used it wisely in truly good, beautiful, enjoyable, lovely things.  These are the kinds of things I want on my Day-Long Bucket list:

-making time to friends  - calls, letters, emails
-volunteer work or time spent helping others
-creative time - time devoted toward the arts and literature
-prayer time
-study time
-time developing in my career
-exercise
-time for daily chores and work (of course)
-pure fun recreation time

Thinking big is essential.  Having a vision for life that encompasses bungee jumping, skydiving, and trips to Paris is important.  But we will never reach those larger milestones if our day-to-day lives lack vision too. 

We can be sucked into mediocrity when we go into the day without a vision.  It doesn't have to be a mind-boggling to-do list, but maybe just a reminder of what is truly important. 

The Power of Percolation

 

"Give, and it will be given to you. 

                                A good measure,

                                           pressed down,

                                                shaken together and running over,

                                                                           will be poured into your lap." Luke 6:38

 

In 2010, new songs were coming out my ears (and pen), songs that I was passionate about - songs I really enjoyed singing and playing. 

 

When the plentiful period of time had been going on for quite awhile, I started to think it was normal and would last forever.  And then, all of a sudden, the well dried up.  There was nothing to write about.  With the greatest of efforts, I could only seem to pull up silly clichés and rhymes, overdone melodic patterns and harmonic sequences.  Even though I was writing, I wanted to throw my ideas back in the pond before anyone would hear them. 

 

It has been three years now, and for a long time I have wondered when another song will come my way, the way the good ones do. 

 

I watched enviously as my friend Andrea came to band practice every week with new song ideas.  I wanted to make this happen for me, too.  But it just wouldn't.

 

This is where we started talking about the idea of "percolation," those times where you have nothing outward to show.  Life is going by all around you, and you turn your experiences over and over in your mind. 

 

 

It is like panning for gold - that painstaking process of sifting out, sifting out, until all the common dust and water is expelled and only the precious stone remains.

 

 

It is like spinning wool into yarn, as you turn and turn the rough material until it becomes more supple and useable.

 

 

It is like harvesting wheat, and slowly separating the single golden kernel from the chaff and the straw and the husks. 

 

 

Percolation is often frustrating because - what do you have to show for all that time, all that time of things being shaken down and pressed together?  All those emotions and observations and experiences and memories getting shuffled around and mixed up until finally the perfect choice phrase emerges - the succinct words that describe it so perfectly? 

 

One day recently I was walking around the lake and one of those phrases drifted into my mind. I had been trying to control the process for so long by sitting at the piano and churning out ideas.  But the revelation came when I was at rest, not working for it.  Pretty soon I had a new song.

 

Sometimes I think we don't realize how hard we are really working during Percolation.  The hard work is going on inside.  So finally, when it is time for us to see the results of all this inner labor, it seems effortless, as though an inspiration has just hit us.  The eureka moment, though, doesn't really come out of thin air - it is only the outward sign of the inward grace of Percolation.   

 

 

 

 

The Genius of Discipline

Part of me has always identified with the "Temperamental Creative Genius"

I wanted to be the girl who sat behind a piano and suddenly, the next classical masterpiece would emerge effortlessly from my hands. 

I wanted to be that girl to whom everyone would ask the question, "what is your secret?"

I wanted to be moody and have an excuse for my moodiness.  I'm just a creative genius.  Duh. 

Sometimes, now waist-deep into a career as a professional piano teacher and musician, I look back and wonder if the reason I am here today is because I truly am a genius, or if the truth is really more on the side of discipline. 

A few posts ago, I wrote about how the disciples were out in the boat all night and caught nothing, and how, with Jesus in the boat the next morning, their nets overflowed.  Regardless of the result, their task was to get in the boat every morning and fish.

I think of the days, weeks, months, years, that I spent sitting at the piano, improvising. Early on, the returns were few and far between. It started small, but I saw fruits to playing by ear that kept me going.  The first victory was picking out Mary Had a Little Lamb - age 8.  After that, I picked out a harder song.  After that, I discovered how to use a few chords to enhance the melody.  Then more chords.  Then more keys.  Finally, in my early 20s, I got to the point of being able to play anything I want by ear, in any key.

Today, playing at a nursing home, someone approached me.  "You're so talented! What's your secret?"

At age 12, I desperately wanted it to be believed that I was the next Temperamental Creative Genius - that talent would leak out of me so naturally.  I was like an X-men character, an anomaly, someone unique and special.  

Today, at age 30 and one day, I realize that what got me here today is nothing but years of practice under the guise of having fun. 

One of the biggest lies we believe is that talent is doled out at birth, and you either have it or you don't. 

It is this belief that keeps us from working at things, and discipline. 

We see this belief in piano lessons.  Parents, suspecting they have a young Mozart on their hands, put their child in lessons, and expect Fur Elise to come out weeks later.  Then it doesn't, and they take the child out of lessons a year later.

We see this belief in marriages.  We believe there is a ONE.  With that One, somehow we will have a perfect relationship/marriage on my hands.  When we run into problems, it is easier to quit than work hard.  We trust that the innate talent just wasn't there.

A few weeks ago, a friend encouraged me to write a novel.

I felt embarrassed at his suggestion.  Music is my talent, was my thinking, and we only get one thing we can be good at, right?

But to humor him, and to experiment, I made the decision to commit to writing 3 pages a day of this novel - free flow, no corrections, no criticisms, just writing. 

I am amazed at a week and a half to see a small daily discipline turned into 30 pages.  I haven't uprooted my entire life to become a novelist. I haven't moved to Greenwich village, started starving for my art, or changed personalities. I have no idea how good or bad the writing will be at the end.  I just decided to devote 30 minutes a day to a new hobby. 

Although I love the romantic images I have in my head of Emily Bronte, Beethoven, Picasso, and van Gogh, living by their moody impulses, I am starting to think that it was daily discipline which created the genius. 

What are you feeling led to devote 30 minutes a day to?

Why my sister is Wonder Woman

My sister is Wonder Woman.  She wakes up every morning to three young children, all needing her in various ways.  Throughout ten years of married life, I have watched her heart expand and her thoughts become more generous and outreaching.  She juggles diaper bags, car seats, groceries, bills, appointments, meetings, housework, and still finds time to invest in book club and moms groups.  She used to indulge in bubble baths and expensive lotion (well, hopefully still does on occasion), but she has made room in her life for more.   She has always been capable of everything - responsible and organized, and unfailingly sends cards or gifts in the mail in time for birthdays, graduations, or any other special occasions.  She is a listening ear whenever I call (even with screaming children in the background).  I am amazed at her patience and ability to think positively. 

My sister is Wonder Woman.  She is fearless, and I admire her courage and scope for adventure.  She backpacked around Europe and Africa by herself.  She bungee-jumped and went on Safaris, walked part of the Appalachian Trail.  She has a calm, no-nonsense approach for life.  I admire her because her advice is unfailingly clear-headed and logical, and as she gets older, it is laced with wisdom and kindness.  She is a loyal friend and has maintained many friendships over many miles and years.  She works a high-profile job and has what it takes to go far in her career.  She finds the humor in any situation, and has the ability to look outside of her own experience and see irony or a joke.  She is constantly sending text messages with trivia - interesting things she heard on the news. 

My sister is Wonder Woman.  She has a compassionate and sensitive soul, but also a fiercy gumption and attitude of competence.  She has always known exactly what she wants to do with her life - care for animals.  She gives off a sense of purpose, whether in cooking a meal, changing a flat tire, kayaking on the lake, or giving an animal a vaccine.  She is highly intelligent but also charmingly clumsy at times.  She loves to be weird and she invites people to be comfortable being weird too.  She creates space for others to be themselves, to think and to process life, and to be together.  Her home space is kept tidy and has an air of hominess and comfort. 

My sister is Wonder Woman.  She has a sharp intuition and depth, and even at a young age was able to read people extremely well and postulate on the meaning of life.  She has a smooth sarcasm and sharp wit, and can see the comedy in subtle things around her.  Her perceptions and creativity are her hallmark, and everywhere she goes, she is showing another side of things - another side to the argument, another point of view, another work of art.  She thinks outside of the box in all things, which often gets her in trouble with deadlines but will serve her well in life. 

I don't just have just one sister.  I am lucky enough to have four, and lucky enough to call each of them some of my best friends.

 I was reflecting on how different each of my sisters is, how different our spheres in life are, and yet how much I believe that each is daily becoming "the best version of herself." Each has different gifts and different strengths, and it is when I see all of us together that I realize how necessary each gift, and each life lived to its fullest, is. 

Yep, my sisters are all Wonder Woman.  Collectively.

Stay in the boat and persevere

^"Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat.  And when he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”  And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.”  And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish; and as their nets were breaking,  they beckoned to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink."   Luke 5: 3-8

<sup>I see some parallels in this story to the Wedding Feast at Cana.  Simon has poured out all his resources, all night.  He is tired, frustrated and worn out.  Catching fish is his livelihood, his talent, his way in the world.  And it isn't working.  He is ready to give up (at least for the day).  And right here, at the end of what he can do, he encounters Christ. 

And Jesus says, "Do it again; this time, lower your nets with Me in the boat."

If I were Simon, I would be annoyed.  Who is this guy?  Why does he think this time will be any different?  Does he not realize that I have done the best I can with what I have? 

I have hit this wall in many situations.  But I usually am not ready to give up.  I usually just try harder, or keep doing the same things that aren't working, hoping for a better result.</sup> 

^{In this passage, I hear an invitation to let go of focusing on what my abilities and efforts can achieve, and to open myself in trust to what God wants to achieve in me.} 

<sup>Sometimes you work so hard and get nothing.

Sometimes, suddenly everything falls into place with very little effort on your part. 

This is how it works for Simon.  And yet,  his work in both cases is the same - lowering the nets for a catch. 

What is that daily work? Maybe it is preparing lesson plans each day.  Changing diapers and keeping kids fed.  Performing on a stage.  Preparing invoices.

Showing up every day, we do the work in front of us.  Some days we will see fruit.  Others we won't.  But we stay in the boat and persevere.</sup> 

What a trip to Arby's taught me

I had made plans one day recently to go home after work and cook a really delicious meal, something like this:

But then, I was kept late at work.  By the time I was finally done, I was starving and in no mood to wait the necessary time for this meal to cook.  I was really tempted to run over to Arby's, and just get this: 

In the moment, Arby's seemed like a better choice - hunger alleviated much faster.  But later, I regretted not waiting a little longer for the more wholesome, delicious and nourishing food.  Not only did I have hundreds of calories on my conscience, but the food just wasn't as great. 

It made me realize that there are many times in my life where the Arby's dilemma presents itself: do I want immediate gratification, with its instant highs but usually later regrets,  or delayed joy, paved with some self-denial and possibly suffering?  Of course, in the moment, I am usually blind to the fact that the options are this clear-cut.

*Do I want to waste 20 minutes on facebook or take 20 minutes to write someone a letter?

*Do I want to sit glazed in front of the television or invest in a good book?

*Do I want to take the time to go out and meet new people, or stay in my comfortable introvert shell? 

*Do I want to pursue the discpline of eating healthily, or just seek foods that fit the appetite of the moment?

And sometimes, the questions are bigger.  Do I want to invest time and energy in a career that I am not suited to? Do I want to choose a relationship that isn't quite right instead of waiting for one that is? 

In many areas of life, I am finding that convenience and immediacy have been ruling me, and offering quick fixes and band-aids, when instead, I want to make decisions that are truly and 100% mine. 

Sometimes (and more often than not) waiting is worth it. 

How Our Expectations Blind Us

 

I've been learning a lot about blindness lately. 

I read a lot of books (mostly fiction), and I'm used to the common order of things: introduction, struggle, conclusion.  I collect the stories and experiences of others.  Often I look to those stories to try to determine "what story I am in." Like Will Farrell's charcter in Stranger than Fiction, I am often wondering if the story I am in is a comedy or a tragedy. 

As I predict the likely outcomes, trying to prepare myself either for great joy or sorrow, I realize that many times throughout the journey, I've been blind to what God is actually doing.  My expectations have blinded me.  God might be right there, walking with me, but if I am not expecting Him in that way, through that person, in that media, I can often miss Him. 

Here are some Scripture stories that clued me in to expectation - blindness:

 

The Road to Emmaus

The disciples were blind to Jesus because it was so clear that he had died.  They were so convinced of His death, that they could not possibly expect to see Him alive, even though He was there in front of their eyes, there was a block there until He broke through it.  They were also blind to the meaning of Scripture, the meaning of events.  What they interpreted as a bad happening had another meaning, which in their grief they were unable to see until Jesus revealed it to them. 

The Scourging of the Pillar

The crowd was also blind.  They were not expecting the King to be Jesus and do what Jesus did.  Their expectations for how the prophecy would be revealed blinded them, so that when the King himself was before them, they could not recognize Him. 

 

 

Finding Jesus in the Temple

Mary and Joseph were frantic.  Here they had been entrusted with the care of Jesus, and at only 12 years, he had been lost.  Now what? I have no idea what they were actually thinking, but if it had been me, I would have thought, "Great, now I ruined everything through my personal failures."  Here is where sometimes we can be blind to God's work because of how we see ourselves.  Maybe we think we are too responsible or important and can mess up God's work singlehandedly.  Maybe we have a heightened sense of shame or lack self-worth, so that we cannot see how He wants us to use our gifts.  In the end, Jesus is safe and sound in the Temple.  Mary and Joseph are reminded of the truth - they might be cooperating with God, but it is God's work, and He cannot mess it up. 



 

 

 

The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth

Mary accepted the prophecy very against normal expectations.  Because she allowed her vision to be determined through God, she responded without blindness.  After being told she was going to be the Son of God out of wedlock, the normal fears about possible stoning, scandal, and even jeopardizing of her life and Jesus' life, were not at the forefront of her mind.  Instead, her first consideration was Elizabeth, and how to help her in her pregnancy.  

. 

 

 



What Does Packaging say about the Gift?

I just recalled this memory today.  I was at a classmate's tenth birthday party, and we were doing a scavenger hunt to find her biggest birthday present.  We finally made it out to the garage for the last clue, and everyone was looking.  I saw something covered by a big dust cloth, and peaked under.  "Oh, it's just a bike," I said. 

"A bike!?!?" shouted my friend, and everyone crowded around me.  Yep, sure enough, that was her gift.

I didn't recognize the gift because of the packaging.  It didn't look like a gift.  It was covered in a dustcloth. 

For some reason, I expect all the gifts in my life to be packaged and clearly marked (in a metaphorical way, of course).  Sometimes I guess I hope God will say, "Take this job offer, it is going to lead to your wildest dreams!" or "This is THE ONE!"

But there are so many times in life that we are receiving big gifts without even knowing it.  They are not packaged in huge, momentous ways.  There is no theme music. 

I don't remember the day I met most of my best friends, for instance.  What a gift they have each been in my life, and yet I didn't see that at the time.  An inconsequential, well-timed conversation with a professor caused me to uproot my entire life and move to St. Paul.  That was a life-changing gift, and I did not recognize it in the moment.  A simple email asking for piano lessons turned into the tremendous gift of graduate school on a tuition waiver.

Then there are the gifts packaged as evils.  Right now, since moving to a new city, I notice that I feel lonely A LOT.  It takes time to build new friendships and feel connected to others in a meaningful way.  But I see that loneliness is also a gift.  It has caused me to be more aware of others around me.  It has forced me to break through my reserve and reach out to others.  It has caused me to be more self-aware. 

Sometimes I ask God for a SIGN.  Something clear.  So why are many of His gifts hidden under a dustcloth?  Why are they packaged so ordinarily, so that they fit into life's fabric without showing their value? 

Maybe the lack of clear packaging is also a gift.  It causes me to work a little harder at practicing gratitude.  It causes me to open my eyes a little more and to learn to be thankful for everything I encounter, whatever its appearance.

How a piano is like the Body of Christ.

On the baby grand piano I use for teaching lessons, one of the high D keys has been sticking for the past few weeks.  Luckily, I thought, the key was very high and should not affect the majority of my younger students.

However, today, almost every single one of my students commented on how irritating it was that this one key was sticking. 

It made me think: out of 88 working keys, 87 isn't THAT bad, is it?  One bad key out of 88 is roughly 1.2% of all the keys.  And yet, how much just one sticking piano key can affect the quality of the music. 

Those 88 keys remind me of the Body of Christ.  We are meant to exist together as one piano, but many keys.  Each of us are called to a unique purpose and plan, but each plan is related to the others so that they can work together for God's glory. 

Those keys sit idle for hours, days, at a time - but each must be ready to be played upon by the Master at any moment.  Each key must be available for music to be played upon it. 

This little annoying sticking key reminded me of what happens when any of us refuses to be "the best version of ourself" (thank you Matthew Kelly).  Sometimes, whether through sin, self-condemnation, worry, envy, etc.  we do not allow ourselves to reflect God, to be available to God, to allow God to make music in us.  Even though we might think this problem is only a personal one, it affects everyone else, and it affects the overall music.

To be able to add to the beauty of God's work, we have only to lay ourselves open to His hand and be ready to be played upon at any time.

Waiting for the best wine

"On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there,  and Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine was gone, Jesus’ mother said to him, “They have no more wine.”
 “Woman, why do you involve me?” Jesus replied. “My hour has not yet come.”

 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Nearby stood six stone water jars, the kind used by the Jews for ceremonial washing, each holding from twenty to thirty gallons.
 
Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so they filled them to the brim.

Then he told them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.”
They did so, and the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside  and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.” John 2:1-12

Sometimes I am at the end of all that I can do.  I have put in hours, days, months, to solve the problem.  I have let my thoughts circle around looking for the answer, only bringing more confusion.  I have prayed about it, taking the concern to God every time I think of it.  The level of frustration grows as my energy levels are depleted, all with no result. 

Which is why I was amazed the other day when I thought of this moment in the Gospels.  Mary simply states the case to Jesus: "they have no more wine." And she leaves it at that. 

I am struck at the contrast in her request from the way I usually pray.  I usually pray something like this (unconsciously), "Lord, I am out of answers, and because of that, I am now going to sit here trying to rack my brain for any other possible answers rather than accepting the silence, lack of control and waiting that would happen as a result of leaving the problem with You."

It is easy for me to get in the habit of worrying, analyzing or "trouble-shooting" when I really think I am praying. 

So as I read this acount, it becomes clear to me:

 

When we let go of the problem and truly leave it with God, we give Him room to work on it. 

What does Mary have that enables her to leave the problem with God?
-Trust: She trusts God because she knows Him. She has invited Him into her home and entire life.
-Humility: She accepts that the answers Jesus gives may differ from her own.
-Confidence: She believes that her plea will be heard taken care of in the best way.

When I read this passage, the other part became clear:  "Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.”

When I am relying on my own abilities to solve a problem, the result is depletion.  My resources are emptied until I have no more.  I feel increasingly frustrated.  But when the problem is truly left with God (meaning for me, no further analyzing, worrying and 'head time,') there can be answers I would not have expected, new doors opened I could not have imagined, and fruits that come from the love of another. 

Sharing my burden with God means He shares His resources and creativity with me.