Partly to share this version with you, but mostly so I can find it again easily when I want to listen to it.
Friday, 28 June 2019
Sunday, 9 June 2019
More About Friendship
I overheard a bit of conversation at church one day; someone was talking about how a group of girls were talking about ... something ... not deep enough, evidently, because they had been asked how their conversation was edifying (and I don't actually remember the something, only that it was just normal conversation). And there was a book that basically said that any conversation that wasn't about God (or didn't include Him) was a wasted conversation.
Both of those ideas bothered me. Granted, there is a time for deep conversations about deep topics, and granted, God should be such a part of our lives that it shapes our conversations. And we shouldn't keep all friendships surface-level.
If we never talk about deeper ideas, I'm not going to trust you for the big stuff in life, but if all we talk about are the big theological topics, I'm also not going to trust you when I need someone to help with the big thing. Either way, you don't really know me and I don't really know you.
Friendships are not build solely on the big conversations; they're also build on the little things. They're built on conversations over coffee that range from deep and insightful to silly and nonsensical. They're built on tears and laughter, on trust and inside jokes. They're built over building puzzles and watching movies and playing games. They're built on stories and silly texts and late-night conversations. There's a lot of little bits that make up friendships.
The thing is, some surface-level conversations aren't edifying and might not help. On the other hand, a lot of them are useful at building friendships and helping people. Someone might need the conversation to feel out whether they can trust this person, or because it's been a really bad day (week, month, whatever) and big conversations are too big to deal with right then, but the smaller conversations are helpful to keep some perspective and focus, or just to be part of a group without any great demands just now. So yes, those conversations that don't seem edifying enough because they're not spiritual enough just might be edifying someone and you just can't see it.
Both of those ideas bothered me. Granted, there is a time for deep conversations about deep topics, and granted, God should be such a part of our lives that it shapes our conversations. And we shouldn't keep all friendships surface-level.
If we never talk about deeper ideas, I'm not going to trust you for the big stuff in life, but if all we talk about are the big theological topics, I'm also not going to trust you when I need someone to help with the big thing. Either way, you don't really know me and I don't really know you.
Friendships are not build solely on the big conversations; they're also build on the little things. They're built on conversations over coffee that range from deep and insightful to silly and nonsensical. They're built on tears and laughter, on trust and inside jokes. They're built over building puzzles and watching movies and playing games. They're built on stories and silly texts and late-night conversations. There's a lot of little bits that make up friendships.
The thing is, some surface-level conversations aren't edifying and might not help. On the other hand, a lot of them are useful at building friendships and helping people. Someone might need the conversation to feel out whether they can trust this person, or because it's been a really bad day (week, month, whatever) and big conversations are too big to deal with right then, but the smaller conversations are helpful to keep some perspective and focus, or just to be part of a group without any great demands just now. So yes, those conversations that don't seem edifying enough because they're not spiritual enough just might be edifying someone and you just can't see it.
Wednesday, 5 June 2019
My Life
I've likely written about this before, and I may write about it again, and that's the way it's going to be. Every now and then you'll get reruns of a sort as the same thoughts run through my head.
This is not the life I had planned.
I was going to grow up, go to university, become a teacher, get married, and raise a family. I was supposed to have children (many children).
So I got part of it: I grew up (mostly), went to university (for 3 degrees, so that was more than I had planned) and became a teacher.
The rest went off-script. Somehow I found my self in my mid-forties, still single, still childless.
Most of the time, I really, really love my life. I have a good job, I have family, I have a church family that fills in the spaces. I do really well living alone (I often wonder how I would cope with having people around all the time).
I have children, of course. Aside from the work kids (who come and go), I have all of my church kids. There are so many of them, and I claim all of them as my lambs. I teach them and play with them and boss them around (and when they're very young, they're pretty sure I run the church since I'm the grown up who takes care of children's ministries and also children). They come to visit me and I go to visit them. I have pictures that they've drawn on my fridge and little crafts that they've done for me scattered here and there. There are Lego creations that in the living room that I agree to leave together at least for a time, and since I have books and bins of toys for when they visit, it might almost look like children belong here.
Sometimes, though, it's hard and a bit lonely. I wonder what I've missed by not getting the traditional, expected life. I look at families and realize that I'm just a bit on the outside (or on the edge, where I belong, but not quite completely).
I don't regret my life, please understand that. I know that God has a plan for everyone, and this is His plan for me, and it's the best plan for me. I can even see the incredible rightness of His plan, how it fits my personality and my gifts (also part of His plan), and I rejoice in all that He has given me, including families (the psalmist says that He puts the homeless in families, and I realize how true that is when I see how many families claim me).
I think I'll always wonder sometimes, a bit, why this is what God chose for me. I'm not fighting His will, and I'm not wishing away that life that I have; as I said, it's a really good life.
On the hard days, when I'm not sure why things are the way they are, I listen to music that reminds me that it's all the way it's meant to be. This is my latest favourite (mostly for the chorus):
This is not the life I had planned.
I was going to grow up, go to university, become a teacher, get married, and raise a family. I was supposed to have children (many children).
So I got part of it: I grew up (mostly), went to university (for 3 degrees, so that was more than I had planned) and became a teacher.
The rest went off-script. Somehow I found my self in my mid-forties, still single, still childless.
Most of the time, I really, really love my life. I have a good job, I have family, I have a church family that fills in the spaces. I do really well living alone (I often wonder how I would cope with having people around all the time).
I have children, of course. Aside from the work kids (who come and go), I have all of my church kids. There are so many of them, and I claim all of them as my lambs. I teach them and play with them and boss them around (and when they're very young, they're pretty sure I run the church since I'm the grown up who takes care of children's ministries and also children). They come to visit me and I go to visit them. I have pictures that they've drawn on my fridge and little crafts that they've done for me scattered here and there. There are Lego creations that in the living room that I agree to leave together at least for a time, and since I have books and bins of toys for when they visit, it might almost look like children belong here.
Sometimes, though, it's hard and a bit lonely. I wonder what I've missed by not getting the traditional, expected life. I look at families and realize that I'm just a bit on the outside (or on the edge, where I belong, but not quite completely).
I don't regret my life, please understand that. I know that God has a plan for everyone, and this is His plan for me, and it's the best plan for me. I can even see the incredible rightness of His plan, how it fits my personality and my gifts (also part of His plan), and I rejoice in all that He has given me, including families (the psalmist says that He puts the homeless in families, and I realize how true that is when I see how many families claim me).
I think I'll always wonder sometimes, a bit, why this is what God chose for me. I'm not fighting His will, and I'm not wishing away that life that I have; as I said, it's a really good life.
On the hard days, when I'm not sure why things are the way they are, I listen to music that reminds me that it's all the way it's meant to be. This is my latest favourite (mostly for the chorus):
Friday, 31 May 2019
Warning: Contains Spoilers
Minor, not-really-a-spoiler for Guardians of the Galaxy (but really, it's been around 5 years now), and an actual spoiler for Avengers: Endgame.
At the beginning of Guardians of the Galaxy, Peter Quill is stealing a mysterious orb from a seemingly abandoned planet. He puts on his walkman and dances his way through the landscape to "Come and Get Your Love".
In Avengers: Endgame, they go back in time to this spot (to steal the same item), and they watch Peter dance through the landscape. Except that he's wearing a walkman, so this time only he (and not his audience) can hear the music. And it looks really odd and funny to watch him dance without music.
I think about this sometimes when I'm at work. I use a headset to listen to music on the computer (it's easier to pull it off if someone walks in than to find the right tab to turn off the music). And sometimes I sing to the music, and sometimes I'm enjoying the music a lot, and then I think: this would look and sound really odd to anyone who can't hear the music. Watching that scene in Endgame just confirmed what I had wondered.
At the beginning of Guardians of the Galaxy, Peter Quill is stealing a mysterious orb from a seemingly abandoned planet. He puts on his walkman and dances his way through the landscape to "Come and Get Your Love".
In Avengers: Endgame, they go back in time to this spot (to steal the same item), and they watch Peter dance through the landscape. Except that he's wearing a walkman, so this time only he (and not his audience) can hear the music. And it looks really odd and funny to watch him dance without music.
I think about this sometimes when I'm at work. I use a headset to listen to music on the computer (it's easier to pull it off if someone walks in than to find the right tab to turn off the music). And sometimes I sing to the music, and sometimes I'm enjoying the music a lot, and then I think: this would look and sound really odd to anyone who can't hear the music. Watching that scene in Endgame just confirmed what I had wondered.
Tuesday, 28 May 2019
The Librarian of Auschwitz
There was a separate, family camp in Auschwitz; no one really understood its purpose, but it was possibly to show off to any Red Cross visitors so they wouldn't know the truth. It was in section BIIb in Birkenau, and it included the block where the children spent their days. Officially, they were running something like a day care, with games and songs and sports. Secretly, they were running a school. Hidden in the floor were 8 books, the entire library at Auschwitz, and they were cared for by Dita Kraus, one of the older children (she was in her teens).
The Librarian of Auschwitz, by Antonio Iturbe, translated by Lilit Zekulin Thwaites, is a novel based on the true events of the family camp and the aftermath. It is rather intense reading, as it describes a lot of the horrors of Auschwitz (including watching someone get hanged and how people died in the gas chambers). At the same time, it's the story of a girl surviving amid the horrors, and the books that she cared for.
This isn't really meant as a review, although I will say that it's a good book and I highly recommend it. Really, it's just that there are two quotes that I'd like to share with you:
First, when Dita fears that she is being watched and that her being the librarian might cause trouble for not only herself but for the others (if the books are found, that's the end of the school, and probably death for anyone involved), and thinks about giving up her position:
"It's easy to commend the hero whose actions are visible. But how to you measure the bravery of those who step aside?"
Later, after the first group of prisoners (including children) have been brought to the gas chambers, she is talking with Miriam, one of the block leaders (Miriam speaks first):
"...They were happy, Edita."
"But it lasted such a short time ---"
"Life, any life, is short. But if you've managed to be happy for at least an instant, it will have been worth living."
"An instant! How short is that?"
"Very short. It's enough to be happy for as long as it takes a match to be lit and go out."
The Librarian of Auschwitz, by Antonio Iturbe, translated by Lilit Zekulin Thwaites, is a novel based on the true events of the family camp and the aftermath. It is rather intense reading, as it describes a lot of the horrors of Auschwitz (including watching someone get hanged and how people died in the gas chambers). At the same time, it's the story of a girl surviving amid the horrors, and the books that she cared for.
This isn't really meant as a review, although I will say that it's a good book and I highly recommend it. Really, it's just that there are two quotes that I'd like to share with you:
First, when Dita fears that she is being watched and that her being the librarian might cause trouble for not only herself but for the others (if the books are found, that's the end of the school, and probably death for anyone involved), and thinks about giving up her position:
"It's easy to commend the hero whose actions are visible. But how to you measure the bravery of those who step aside?"
Later, after the first group of prisoners (including children) have been brought to the gas chambers, she is talking with Miriam, one of the block leaders (Miriam speaks first):
"...They were happy, Edita."
"But it lasted such a short time ---"
"Life, any life, is short. But if you've managed to be happy for at least an instant, it will have been worth living."
"An instant! How short is that?"
"Very short. It's enough to be happy for as long as it takes a match to be lit and go out."
Saturday, 20 April 2019
Monday, 8 April 2019
At the Start of the Week
Technically, the week starts on Sunday, so I'm already past the start of the week. The work week starts today, though, so I think this counts as the start of a week!
Although I can go backwards a bit: yesterday was good. I love the church family, I love my Sunday School class, I love singing with the congregation (I love that I can sing loudly and not worry about how my voice is sounding), I love that James is still preaching the resurrection, I love being surrounded by most of my favourite people. Then I was with friends for lunch, I went for a walk in the afternoon (there are geese at the pond), and I had Bible study in the evening.
This week looks busy, so far. There are some long days in it, but not bad days. Tonight and tomorrow I for sure have to work late, Thursday I have evening plans, and Friday is the start of the spring conference at the church. I've been looking forward to the conference since someone first mentioned the possibility of having Dr. Street come up to do a conference on mental illness. It will make for a busy weekend, but one that I will enjoy. I don't often make it to the entire spring conference because of work and stuff, but I booked the weekend off as soon as this one was announced.
The week is starting well: The sun is shining and the current forecast is for sunshine and mild temperatures all week. There are birds singing outside my window. It feels like a good day.
I don't know what will happen this week, or how things will work out with my meetings, appointments, students, teachers, home school room, or anything else. I'm working on focusing on today and right now, and not worrying about later. I'm working on remembering that some things are my responsibility and some things are God's responsibility, and taking care of my stuff and leaving God's stuff up to Him. Sometimes this is more challenging than others, but overall I think I'm getting better at it.
Right now, things are good. I'm going to leave for work soon, and I'm going to enjoy the walk (on nice days, I walk part way to work; I miss that walk when I don't get it), and the rest of everything will take care of itself.
Although I can go backwards a bit: yesterday was good. I love the church family, I love my Sunday School class, I love singing with the congregation (I love that I can sing loudly and not worry about how my voice is sounding), I love that James is still preaching the resurrection, I love being surrounded by most of my favourite people. Then I was with friends for lunch, I went for a walk in the afternoon (there are geese at the pond), and I had Bible study in the evening.
This week looks busy, so far. There are some long days in it, but not bad days. Tonight and tomorrow I for sure have to work late, Thursday I have evening plans, and Friday is the start of the spring conference at the church. I've been looking forward to the conference since someone first mentioned the possibility of having Dr. Street come up to do a conference on mental illness. It will make for a busy weekend, but one that I will enjoy. I don't often make it to the entire spring conference because of work and stuff, but I booked the weekend off as soon as this one was announced.
The week is starting well: The sun is shining and the current forecast is for sunshine and mild temperatures all week. There are birds singing outside my window. It feels like a good day.
I don't know what will happen this week, or how things will work out with my meetings, appointments, students, teachers, home school room, or anything else. I'm working on focusing on today and right now, and not worrying about later. I'm working on remembering that some things are my responsibility and some things are God's responsibility, and taking care of my stuff and leaving God's stuff up to Him. Sometimes this is more challenging than others, but overall I think I'm getting better at it.
Right now, things are good. I'm going to leave for work soon, and I'm going to enjoy the walk (on nice days, I walk part way to work; I miss that walk when I don't get it), and the rest of everything will take care of itself.
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