The Art of Conversation

Ephesians 4:29 Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. ~ The Message

I am a people watcher. One particular day Doug and I had decided to get Indian Food at a line-out-the-door-hole-in-the-wall, that has some good grub. We had a good 20 minute or more wait, so I watched the couple in front of us. She kept trying to talk to him, he kept reading his phone and answering in one or two words. Technology etiquette blog on the way. There were two girls from work discussing work it seemed, there were people quietly walking through the line. As we moved closer to the front, I began to look for a table. There were three women and two men, laughing hysterically and enjoying their lunch. What fun to have lunch with friends, I thought! One woman was a loud-mouth and chewed with her mouth open. Another etiquette blog. I watched her in what seemed like slow motion poking her fork into her curry chicken and then chewing with her mouth open as she talked to everyone. I wondered how much food was being sprayed into the others plates. She chews like a cow, I thought to myself.

We ordered and found a table to sit down at. As we waited patiently for our food to arrive, I noticed that many of the couples there were reading their phones and not interacting. Ourselves included. Okay, I thought, we really have to get back to the basics. Where’s the conversation here? I mean this has the potential of being a really good date for the two of us.

Ohoh! Landmine at the table with the three women and two men. Loudmouth girl says loudly, “That stupid f*^@&*# b%#@%. I asked her if something was up between us and she said no.” So the women begin to dish on whoever they were talking about. I quit looking at them because they were quite engrossed in their conversation. One of the men sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. The other man put his hand to his mouth. They looked uncomfortable. They looked away. They looked down at their food. Then the one man, with his hand to his mouth, engaged the other man in a conversation of some sort, and they both even positioned themselves and moved their seats slightly apart from the women. Now instead of five people talking at a table, there were two sets of conversations going. Displeasing conversation had broken up the camaraderie.

I looked around the room and realized we were unaware of each other, even when we’d opted to dine together. People were busy on their cell phones, others were merely eating, still others were having separate conversations unaware that others were uncomfortable. I looked over at the couple who had been in front of us in the line. She was sitting quietly annoyed and he was still on his phone. We were still on our phones, as Doug began to tell me about what he’d learned about beer on the History Channel. I crinkled my nose and said, “Beer is gross.”

It begs the question are we engaging each other in real conversations? Conversations that matter? The gossip at table of five separated out lunch buddies, the cell phones separated out many. Wait! I look over in the corner of the room. There are three old guys with long hair. Hippee-types from another time. They were eating Tandoori salads, leaning back in their chairs, in friendly discussion. No phones, no women! I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Maybe their free love talks of days gone by, have given way to political discussions about Wall Street? I don’t know, but it made me wonder if we’ve lost the art of conversation?

It’s A Lie

Most weeks, two or three come in. For the most part, they’re filled out by women. Primarily they’re checked single with children. I’m talking about benevolence forms. These are forms asking the church for assistance.

We have a team of volunteers that works to get these forms processed. I’m not involved with the process itself, but I see how carefully the team works to choose who qualifies for assistance.

Society tells us that men are unnecessary. We can do this parenting thing alone. We don’t need a man. They’re a nice accessory. After all, they only want one thing right? They cheat, they lie, they don’t work hard enough. Yet, could it be that our expectations are so low when choosing whom to father our children, that we choose a man who is ill equipped? That choice leaves us vulnerable. We can blame the down economy but single women with children have always ranked highest amongst those living below the poverty level.

I read these forms with great sadness. Generally speaking the average seems to be three children, two fathers, never married, no one pays child support, and she has never worked or barely worked because someone had to take care of those babies. There is a hardness and a sadness about her story and when I see her, she’s lost the sparkle in her eye. Yet, society tells her she can do it all by herself.

Could it be that God designed sex within the context of marriage to alleviate this pain? Could it be that in his infinite wisdom and compassion he was looking to save us and our children from this struggle, this life of poverty?

It seems judgmental, even to my own eyes, when I read what I have written here today, and yet, life takes some planning. We, as the church, help with what we can, in terms of goods and services, but it’s a band-aid on a more critical wound. We all make mistakes and we all have to live out those consequences. How do we educate the next generation that just because he says, I love you in the backseat of his mom’s car, doesn’t mean that it’s the right time to awaken love? How do we change the lie, and it is a lie, that life will go on as planned? How do we change the story? Even among my Christian friends, they say sex before marriage is unreasonable and unattainable. A nice thought in theory, but not practical in life. We all stand in freakish awe when someone publicly declares that they are going to wait until they get married to have sex. Surely there is something wrong with them, because we are too smart to fall for a lie.

Women suffer, children suffer even more so, yet we plow forward thinking this time it will be different for her. It’s a lie. There is an enemy of your soul who desires to destroy your dream. There is a Dream Giver who is calling you to take more care. Who will you believe and what has to change within you? Within us?

Christians Are Canceling Christmas

It’s the oddest thing to me in the whole entire world. There are Christians wanting to cancel church on Christmas because it falls on a Sunday this year. You see, it will interfere with the gift exchange. It will interfere with the Christmas Eve hangover, it will interfere with the Christmas breakfast tradition. Canceling Christmas must be done! It’s inconvenient for MMMMMEEEEEE.

OH WAIT!!

It’s not Christmas we want to cancel. It’s the bride of Christ we want to cancel. We don’t want to gather corporately on a Sunday because of Christmas.

We want the commercial exchange without the holy interaction.

 

Okay, now it makes total sense! I get it! Push Jesus to the side so we can have our holiday.

Funny thing is that is exactly what the Pharisees did. Jesus came to save the world that was lost, but it was lost on them. They weren’t interested in a Messiah, they were interested in a tradition. Jesus’ timing has never been convenient. Nope, nothing convenient about it, but it was necessary.

Christianity started on the day Jesus arrived on the scene. We have decided to celebrate that moment on December 25. Only this year, it falls on a day we reserve for church service. So church service will have to wait because gifts are more important than the giver.

Maybe I will stand alone but I will be at church on Sunday morning, December 25, 2011 even if it is Christ’s Mass.

Not Bone Of My Bone

I have struggled with step-parenting. That is true and well documented. However, we really need to change our minds about how we speak of our children.

While out with Lauren, my stepdaughter, a man we both know, asked me, “I haven’t seen your kids in awhile. How are they doing?” I smiled, knowing what he meant but not wanting to feed this thinking, I answered, “One is standing right behind me.” I heard Lauren snicker. The man persisted, “No, I mean your real kids.” I answered, “She looks pretty real to me. Are you talking about my two oldest? They are fine. Working and living in Los Angeles.”

People who are reading this today, my request is this: please don’t distinguish between a biological and an adopted child. My step-children may not be bone of my bone but they are certainly children of my heart. Maybe it’s incomprehensible that a stepmother would love her children, since fairy tales tell us otherwise, but I do. So please think before you speak. I know most people do not think about what they are saying and I’m sure it wasn’t meant as a slam but what if you were Lauren hearing this conversation? What if I had responded in a different way? Would that have hurt her heart? Let’s just be a little more careful with our words.

Breathing

fubiz.net

I was sent this article written by musician, singer/songwriter, Jason Gray. I thought it was profound and wanted to share it with all of you!

The Sound of Our Breathing
Jason Gray

Take a breath and breathe it out. Do it again, slowly, and try to mean it. Breathing – of all things maybe we take it most for granted. Do we ever wonder why we are built this way, this soft machine of ours always pumping oxygen in and out?

In sadness, we breathe heavy sighs. In joy, our lungs feel almost like they will burst. In fear, we hold our breath and have to be told to breathe slowly to help us calm down. When we’re about to do something hard, we take a deep breath to find our courage. When I think about it, breathing looks almost like a kind of praying.

I heard a teaching not long ago about the moment when Moses had the nerve to ask God what His name is. God was gracious enough to answer, and the name He gave is recorded in the original Hebrew as YHWH.

Over time, we’ve arbitrarily added an “a” and an “e” in there to get YaHWeH, presumably because we have a preference for vowels. But scholars have noted that the letters YHWH represent breathing sounds, aspirated consonants that in the Hebrew alphabet would be transliterated like this:
Yod, rhymes with “rode,” which we transliterate “Y”
He, rhymes with “say,” which we transliterate “H”
Vav, like “lava,” which we transliterate “V” or “W”
He rhymes with “say,” which we transliterate “H”.

A wonderful question rises to excite the imagination: what if the name of God is the sound of breathing?

This is a beautiful thought to me, especially considering that for centuries there have been those who have insisted that the name of God is so holy that we dare not speak it because of how unworthy we are. How generous of God to choose to give Himself a name that we can’t help but speak every moment we’re alive. All of us, always, everywhere, waking, sleeping, with the name of God on our lips.

In his Nooma video, Breathe, Rob Bell (a pastor whose obvious gifts of curiosity and a knack for asking provocative questions can get him into trouble) wonders what this means in key moments like when a baby is born – newly arrived on planet Earth, must they take their first breath, or rather speak the name of God, if they are to be alive here? On our deathbed, do we breathe our last breath? Or is it that we cease to be alive when the name of God is no longer on our lips?
The most ironic of his questions is also the most beautiful: he wonders about the moment when an atheist friend looks across the table at you and says, “There. is. no. God.” And of course, what you hear is “Yod. He. Vav. He.”

There are few better illustrations of both God’s largesse as well as his humility, his omnipresence as well as his singular intimate presence within each of us.

Breathe in. Breathe out. “He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs…the word that saves is right here, as near as the tongue in your mouth…” (Romans 8:28, 10:8 The Message)

The Lion, the Mouse and the Fox

dogbreedinfo.com

An Aesop Fable:

A Lion, fatigued by the heat of a summer’s day, fell fast asleep in this den. A Mouse ran over his mane, and ears and woke him from his slumbmers. He rose up and shook himself in great wrath, and searched every corner of his den to find the Mouse. A Fox seeing him said: ” A fine Lion you are, to be frightened of a Mouse.” “‘Tis not the Mouse I fear,” said the Lion; “I resent his familiarity and ill-breeding.”

Little liberties are great offenses.

Raising Men

gearfuse.com

I remember all to well the gasps and disdain when I pushed my little bird out of the nest. After all, he was a respectful young man-child, he wasn’t in trouble, he was working and he was being productive. However, he had completed four years of college and I had to decide did I want to raise a boy or a man? Did I want him to think that a woman would take care of him or did I want to release him to his most excellent future? I decided to give him 90 days to move out. He wasn’t causing problems, he was helpful, he was caring, but a man has got to be a man or I have failed as a mother. So the push came.

I am proud to say that he is a good man now. He stands on his own, he knows who he is and he is a man in whom I am well pleased! It wasn’t easy but babies they are not. No woman wants a man-child who can’t step out and make it on his own. No woman wants a man-child who spends his days playing video games. Oh, lots of girls tolerate all of these sad behaviors for awhile, but pretty soon they become nags who need their man-child to grow up. He’s got to have some drive to succeed. He’s got to be bold and step out into a fiercely competitive world. Oftentimes, as mothers we are our man-child’s biggest hinderance to launching especially if dad is missing we then tend over compensate for their lack of fathering.

I am pleased to say that my second man-child has just today, received his letter of acceptance to college. I am proud of him. We have prepped him for this time and it is time to release our arrow into the world to make a difference.

In William J. Bennett’s op ed piece for Fox News, Have We Forgotten How to Raise Boys Into Men? he concisely says what is needed in our society. It’s a great read and I thought I would share it with you today!

Happy Birthday Anthony

Happy Birthday to my son Anthony who turns 30 today. You have been my joy, my love, and a precious gift. I’ll never get over how God allowed me to be your mom but I am forever grateful to Him for you. Enjoy your day my love!

If any of you are inclined to celebrate this day with Anthony, he has asked for no gifts this year but for everyone to contribute $30 to Charity Water a worthwhile endeavor. Here’s the link to read all about it!

Late Again?

Time management is a great skill to have. Notice I said it’s a skill. A person who cannot self manage themselves limits their leadership ability. People who are consistently late are saying loud and clear that they have poor planning skills. Psychology tells us that people who are consistently late are rebellious and care little about other’s time. They want to inform you that they don’t care about what the expectation is. In their own fantasy of life, they are the king or queen of the universe and you are the servant who will wait to be honored by their presence. Naturally, this is very strong language to be used so usually they deny it, but that realization will only do one of two things: reinforce the boorish behavior or modify it. It is simply a way for the person who is late to show people disrespect without having the confrontation of words. Leaving you waiting is of no concern to them. Actions speak louder than words so the message is perfectly clear.

If you have someone in your life who is chronically late, reassess your friendship. You are not valued by that person and they are not honoring you or holding you in any sort of regard. If you have a person who is chronically late in your workplace, they are quite simply stealing from the company. Time is important, too important to waste on those who think nothing of you.

If you are chronically late, quit making excuses. Everyone’s time is important. Yours is no more so than the people you keep waiting on you.

Running occasionally late happens. Running chronically late there simply is no excuse for.

The Horse and Groom

http://www.hideoutranch.com, not the groom in the story, you can see the love

Aesop’s Fable

A Groom used to spend whole days in currycombing and rubbing down his Horse, but at the same time stole his oats and sold them for his own profit. “Alas!” said the Horse, “if you really wish me to be in good condition, you should groom me less, and feed me more.”