Christmas Story

A story of shepherds and angels, and yet,

Ours is a vision of shoppers and strangers.

A story historically inaccurate, and yet,

This is day which annually makes history.

A story painful beyond expectation, and yet,

The pain is where we really connect.

A story of loneliness and fear, and yet,

It is best embodied within community with great joy.

A story more misunderstood everyday, and yet,

It still offers truth, even to children.

A story about less, and yet,

It is always a story of more.

May you find more this Christmas.

A Fable: The Farmer and the Rock

Once upon a time there was a farmer who farmed a field containing a large rock.  The rock was close to the middle of the field and stood proudly for all to see, much like a iceberg in the sea.  The rock was a irritant to the farmer.  All his life he had plowed and planted around the rock.  It was always in the way, took up room, and was good for nothing.  The rock seemed to the farmer to be a constant reminder of what the farmer was not.

The farmer tried moving the rock.  It would not budge.  He tried breaking up the rock with a hammer, but it was quite large.  Year afer year the farmer battled the rock.  The rock stood. 

Years passed and the farmer finally got old and died.  But just before he died the farmer had a brilliant idea.  And so he ... (you fill in the blank.) 

As one might guess, the rock and the farmer became famous in all the land. Many people come from far away just to look at the rock and consider their own lives.  The end.

Questions to Ponder

1. How did the rock remind the farmer of his own life?
2. Were there other rocks in the same field? In other fields?
3. What did the farmers impending death have to do with his new idea?
4. Have you ever traveled to see a rock?
5 . Do you have a rock in your field?  What are you doing about it?

Fall Softly Snow

Snow does not always fall softly.

One of my mother-in-laws favorite songs is a classic Christmas song titled, "Fall Softly Snow." 

Fall Softly Snow

The verses tell the story of the Christ child born on a cold winter night and all the surrounding effects combine to tell the story.  Even the snow falls softly around the young family as the night wears on into the morning of a new day. 

Living in a new home for the first winter we have experinced many new and strange noises.  While expected, the banging and cracking noises related to wood and vinyl sideing expanding and contracting have been a surprise.  But I have to say that the wind the other evening with the snow pelting the North side of the house was not silent.  The snow was not falling softly.

Snowflakes, like our individual lives, are unique.  Each one is different, but also essentially the same.  Yes, some snow falls quiet, like a whisper, like a dream.  However other times, snow falls loud, stinging everything it touches.     Yes, maybe snow is more like people than we might think. 

To enjoy a look at some amazing snowflakes click on the link:  SnowCrystals.com

In the meantime, enjoy the snow.  It's the cold temperatures I could do without.

The Path More Traveled

Robert Frost said something like this: Two paths diverged into the woods, and I took the one less traveled and it has made all the difference."  These words have inspired me and instructed me to do things like take a light plane ride to fly around the top of Denali, to ride my bicycle across the state of Iowa, and even to follow a call into ministry.  Many times I have taken a path less traveled and found something inspiration and renewal just around the bend or rise beyond my vision.

 

However, as of late I have been thinking about the fact that for all the hoopla about these private and personal paths, I always seem to find myself ending up in the midst of community.  It is like the path I think is less traveled is actually the path everyone else is on as well, it just seems less frequented somehow until the community is revealed.  Or perhaps all paths lead home or at least back to the main road and before I know it, I am in the midst of the well worn path again moving along with fellowship and new responsibilities. 

We Americans are a fragile bunch, we need to think we are rugged indivudulalist even when we are not.  I sold my Jeep when we moved to Des Moines.  I miss it.  Even more, I miss the idea I can just cut across any old beanfield if I really needed.  Don't think the Prius rental ..., well, never mind.  The point is that I very seldom ever used the very freedom I seemed to think I needed.  Every Jeep comercial I see reminds me, as I watch a 60K SUV bounce through rivers and across rocks as if.  It is just an illusion I tell you, this need for my personal independence.  I do not need the road less taken.  Never did.

Maybe I am just getting older and this is all a part of that maturing thing.  Or maybe I am on to something and we all need to get off our rocking horses and begin to walk with each other for a mile or two.  We really need to begin to rethink the power of the connection. Being alone is never a word of creation.  The relationship is transformative.

No, these days I am into taking the road more traveled.   In the midst of the well traveled road is where life happens.  This is not about comfort, or even ease of travel.  Rather this is about being with other people.  Hard as this is to consider, even harder to believe, I need other people.  As pretty as a mountian view may be, I must find ways to share it with fellow travelers; and that has made all the diference.

What Are You Waiting For?

Waiting for the President On the Steps of the White House

Advent begins and I wonder who cares.

The word advent does not mean to wait, rather it means the begining of something. However the tradition of the church offers as we begin a new year, the first proper thing to do, is to do nothing, but wait a while.

We are instructed to pause and ponder, to consider and let the magnitude of the thing which is about to take place find it's proper rank in our to do lists. Thus the question, "What are you waiting for."

If I have considered and discerned that for which I wait, for which I hope and yearn, then I will also likely know how to best respond and which paths to choose as the year moves forward. If however, I am consumed by the events without perpective, my life may be swallowed by impuse responses with little or no connecton to anything I truely value. If the couple in the garden would have paused to consider the question and the source of the questions, I doubt they would have been so easily beguiled. I find this still true for us today. For what are you waiting? I believe the answer is a key to your happiness and your relationship with the world around you.

Are you waiting for a savior? Are you waiting for a king? Or perhaps a new Queen or princess? Are you waiting to grow? Are you waiting to survive? Are you waiting to eat or get warm. Are you waiting for shelter, or for yor ship to come in? Are you waiting on someone else, something beyond your control? Are you waiting with others or by yourself? Are you waiting in pain, in boredom, or celebration? Are you waiting for something more, something less, or perhaps just something, anything; Beuhler... .

http://www.old-picture.com/defining-moments.htm

Waiting is work. Not doing can also be understood as doing something. Waiting is doing something, and for me personally is usually quite productive. Pausing to reflect as a new season begins is a mature response to the world. And hard as this may sound, to stay young forever is not our goal, rather it is to mature, and to do so gracefully.

So I ask you, for what are you waiting? The answer defines our days.