What Was Supposed to Become of Us...

About twenty centuries or so ago, half a world away from where I sit as I write this blog, Jesus of Nazareth, son of a carpenter and his wife...very normal folks and parents, most likely, by the way...began a small movement centered around recognizing God loves us all, and wishes us to treat each other the way God always treats us: Gracously.

That's a very short and simple (but not simplistic...as in meaning "overly simple") explanation of a now-world-wide religious movement.  I am aware that there are many articles of faith, myths, traditions, practices, and long-held beliefs that have attached themselves to this Jesus-movement that I am excluding from consideration here, but I am just going with love and graciousness for my purposes right now. 

OK then, here we go.  I attended a gathering at my church this afternoon at which youth and adults visited with a Bloomington resident and IU professor, and member of the Islamic community.  The gentleman took time to explain his faith as he understood it, and outlined the similarities and differences between his faith and the Christian and Jewish faiths.  (I especially liked hearing that in his faith there is no notion of "original sin.")

The hour-long conversation got me to wondering:  What was supposed to become of those early-on followers of the Jesus-movement?  And what was supposed to become of all the followers thereafter?

Were we supposed to become bogged down in deciding who God does and does not love, or will not treat graciously?  (Jesus cleared that up, I thought.)  Were we supposed to become arrogant about our way of understanding God most clearly...thru the message of Jesus; all the while laughing at, or snickering about, or even attempting to eradicate other understandings of God?

Were we supposed to become gracious...or hard-hearted?  Were we supposed to become lovers...or haters?  Were we supposed to become tolerant...or not?  Open to new truths...or not?  Were we supposed to become more like Jesus...or less?

The cartoon above may be a bit harsh for some folks, but for me it points to the worst that can become of us as we try to live out our faith in God.  I would hope that we could demonstrate the best that can become of us instead: that we celebrate God's love for us by being gracious to each other.



Grape Malts

There is a Brusters Ice Cream shop just about a mile from our house. And there is a Jiffy-Treat Ice Cream shop about a mile or so further away. Good stuff, that ice cream. When I go to the Jiffy Treat, I always order a small dish of cherry cordial...there are small chocolate bits mixed in with real cherries and french-vanilla ice cream. Brusters rarely has the black cherry or raspberry flavors that I like when I go there...so its usually mint choco-chip I order. Another Jiffy-Treat in the next town west has great blueberry malts! Great. Blueberry. Malts. I don't eat much ice cream, really. Probably much less than the national average. But I do like it every now and then. In the small town where I grew up was the Lydick Ice Cream Parlor. I don't remember ordering a whole lot of ice cream there (well, quite a few chocolate malts over my 18 years there) but I do remember really good hamburgers, and really, really good fountain drinks. A "Green River" is to die for...at least as I remember it.

A real treat when I was a kid was to load into the back seat of the Studebaker and go with my dad and mom, and my brother, to the Bonnie Doon restaurant near the Bendix plant and have the car-hop bring our burgers and fries and drinks to the driver-side window of the car. The Bonnie Doon in the picture above is just a small version of the bigger one we used to frequent. I always...and I am talkin ALWAYS...ordered a grape malt. Oh man, those things were good. Really good. I can remember the whole experience, and especially the taste of the grape malt to this day. I wonder if my young daughter will remember Brusters or Jiffy-Treat in that same sort of way. I hope so. Good memories are really good things. Great gifts from a distant past that have the power to brighten life no matter what the present day has been like. Make that a Large Grape Malt, please!

School House Rock..

Remember that cartoon, "School House Rock?" Great teaching and learning tool from back in the day. I remember taking my daughter to see a live version of the best of that show which was staged at Vincennes High School...she loved it. Of course, when she got a bit older, she denied liking it as much as she did when we experienced it. Such are the rules of kid-life.

School House Rock: The interesting dissonance between my school-years and my childrens' school-years. School House Rock: An angst-producing time of life that can cause serious rift between parent and child.

This is where I went to High School. New Carlisle (Indiana) High School. We were the Tigers. Great times, those were: 1959-63.

This is where we used to hang out when we weren't in school. The Soda Bar. Classy, huh?

I am positive that my parents thought my school, and my hang-out, and my social circle (pretty sure we used to just call that "our friends") were not up to the standards of their back-in-the-day school, and hang-out, and social circle. I'm positive about that because they told me so.

Way back in 1959-63, the School House Rock played on. We thought it was the best of times; our parents, not so much. We had TV to ruin us; they didn't. We had Elvis to seduce us; they didn't. We had more opportunities to "mix" with the opposite sex; they didn't.

I don't remember having those kinds of thoughts about my (now in their 40s) sons and their school-time. Maybe because their "time" didn't seem all that different from my "time." Still, I am sure that if you were to ask them about their dad's angst during those days, you would conclude that the School House Rock played on. Maybe I just don't remember way-back-then as clearly as I ought.

But now...now, my daughter is in 7th grade, headed for High School soon. I am here to tell you, that with what I think is very good reason, School House Rock is getting quite rocky, indeed.
Sure would be nice to go back to that night in Vincennes High School when both dad and daughter were enjoying an idealized version of what life would always be like.
School House Rock. Yeah, no thanks!

Bed Clothes or Work Clothes...

First off, let's get clear on the terms used in the title of this blog:
*"Bed Clothes" is an old term used to describe one's sleeping apparel...maybe a nightshirt, or pair of shorts, or pajamas, etc. (It is not to be confused with modern-day "sleep-pants"...which, by the way, ought NOT be worn outside the home, and to the local 7-11 Store!)
*"Work Clothes" means whatever clothing is appropriate for the type of work one wishes to accomplish.

Now that we are clear on terms, there is this:

There are days I do not wanna get up and dress up! There are days I would very much rather stay in my bed clothes than get into some work clothes.

J.M. Power says, "If you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up." J.M. Power has no earthly idea how good it is to stay in bed and let the world roll on past, taking little or no notice. Of course, that can't become a lifestyle...but as a vacation it sure is nice!

Dreams do have to be fought for, however. Real dreams, I mean. Ones like "I have a dream..." that Dr. King spelled out all those years ago...and which still struggle to become reality. That kind of dream must be fought for...literally, vigilantly, evidently endlessly.

And obstacles cannot be allowed to get in the way of big and important dreams. Henry Ford (yeah, the automobile guy) said that, "Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal." So, sure enough: Get up, Dress appropriately, and Fight for the dream! Whatever dream you are invested in at the time: Fight for it!

And don't be afraid of making big and little adjustments along the way as you chase down the dream, and fight the good fight. This message from a billboard might just offer some guidance: Success is 10% inspiration, 90% last-minute changes.

And once more: Sleep-pants are not outside-the-house appropriate! Really.

When the Road Comes to an End

I was in a town this past weekend where it seemed that way too many roads and streets came to an abrupt end...often without sufficient enough warning for me to make a course-correction. Perhaps if you live in that town, you know all about this state of affairs and you are OK with it. As a visitor, I was more than a little confused.
When a road comes to an end it is, more often than not, confusing, don't you think? And maddening.

Parker Palmer wrote something like, "When Way closes, Way will open." Meaning, I think, that when one road comes to an end, another road will open up...to help you move-on with life. Parker Palmer is an insightful author, and I believe what he says about Way. In my head, I believe it. Not always in the everyday world where my everyday life plays out, do I believe it. Or experience it. Soon enough, at least.

Yeah, well...on this day, early in the morning, it feels like a road is ending...and I'm not all that sure of blazing the trail forward by myself.
Gonna have to get going, and keep my eyes and ears and spirit open to where Way is hiding.

(Don't read more into this post than is intended...life is good...but there are days...you've been there, too. Way is up around the bend, just keep moving forward. Back is hardly ever a good option.)

Too Much Open Mouth...

Ever been told to "shut up"?
Ever had someone, while you were in mid-sentence, put their index finger to their puckered lips and go, "Shhhh"?
Ever done those things to others?
Ever wanted to?

I am a "yes" to all of those things. My guess is that you are, too.
And there were times when that was good advice...on their part, and on my part.

"Open mouth - insert foot." That's a phrase that comes close to where I am going in this posting. I sometimes say things that ought not be said...or at least ought not be said in the place and time I am saying them.
Of course, once those things are said, they are said. And everything I say later can never un-say what originally came out of my mouth.

What we say does matter. That's pretty clearly the truth. What we say often times confirms just exactly what is going on inside us, even though we like to think that it is not going on inside us.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said that, "People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is a confession of character." Our opinions, spoken out loud do reveal much of our character's make-up and content.

"With the mouth we make confession..." Ouch, sometimes that confession ain't too nice...ain't too pretty...ain't what we actually intended.

Sometimes there's just a little too much open mouth. Sometimes its mine.