Category: Appreciation

Are You Willing?

All that matters is learning what you believe in…

“I know this now.  Every man gives his life for what he believes.  Every woman gives her life for what she believes.  Sometimes people believe in little or nothing, and yet they give their lives to that little or nothing.  One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it and then it’s gone.  But to surrender what you are and to live without belief is more terrible than dying—even more terrible than dying young.”  –Joan of Arc

Joan of Arc lived less than twenty years.  Yet she fought for her beliefs and made a huge impact on history.  She died for her beliefs at an age when many are just beginning their life’s journey.

She knew what she believed in.  She knew what it meant to sacrifice for her beliefs.  Ask anyone who serves or served in the military, a first responder who runs into a burning building to save others, or a newly formed priest who has answered God’s call.  These are just a few examples.  Each of them know what it means to sacrifice for their beliefs.

Sometimes our beliefs emerge quietly without our knowledge.  We go through life, making seemingly inconsequential decisions about what we will and won’t do.  We decide who our friends are, and how much we will let them into our lives.  We decide when to listen.  We decide how honest we will be with the world around us.

We establish habits for living our life, and we go on our merry way.

Do you know what you believe in?  Really?  Do you know what you believe to be true?  Do you know what is important in your life?

Have you made the quiet time in your life that’s necessary to consider these questions?

What if it turns out that the things you believe in aren’t manifested in the way you live?  Are you willing to change your habits?  Are you willing to eliminate the things that don’t support your beliefs?  Will you support your beliefs in the way you live, and the way you work with others?  Are you willing to make your beliefs the centerpiece of your actions in everything you do?

Joan of Arc was right.  One life is all we have, and then it’s gone.

Where are you in that one life?  Is it too late to examine your beliefs and change the way you live?

The answer is clear  But, it won’t become obvious until we make quiet time in our lives to reflect.  When we do, we find it’s never too late to examine our beliefs and change our life.

Every day is a new beginning if we choose to make it so.  It doesn’t matter what happened in the past.  It doesn’t matter who wronged you.  It doesn’t matter if you had a terrible childhood.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve missed opportunities in the past.  It certainly doesn’t matter if you failed in the past.

All that matters is learning what you believe in.  Then, deciding what to do with that new knowledge, starting today.

The only question is:  Are you willing to find out?

 

Beliefs and Values

h/t:  Matthew Kelly

The Rear-View Mirror

Rear-view mirrors are nice, but the real action is in the opposite direction…

For years, I seemed to pick cars that were too short.  The rear-view mirrors were always right at my eye level.  At first, that sounds about right.  But, the mirrors actually blocked my view out the front windshield.

I had two choices:

Duck down and look under the mirror to see the road ahead,

or,

Remove the mirror.

Not wanting to scrunch down, or have to remember that what I could see was actually the view out the back window, I decided to remove the mirror from my view.

A bit drastic, but I was okay with it.  I could always use the side mirrors to see behind me.  Besides, I mostly used the rear-view mirror to scan for cops (it’s easier to spot their profile, or their lights, using the rear-view mirror).  Since I wasn’t in the habit of breaking laws, it wasn’t a big sacrifice to lose that wide-angle backward view.

Most of what I was interested in was in front of me anyway.  Removing the mirror let me stay focused on what was coming, rather than where I’d been.  Occasionally, I’d glance to the empty spot where the mirror used to be, mostly out of habit.

A habit born of the desire to glean value from where I’d been, but mostly to know if something was about to catch me.  It didn’t matter that I wasn’t doing anything worthy of being caught.  But, still, it was there.  The unknown pursuer.  The quick glance to the rear-view would help me see when it was coming.  It never was.

Fast-forward twenty years or so, and my car (actually a truck) is bigger.  The rear-view mirror doesn’t block my view out the front.  It provides a nice panorama out the back.  I don’t use it much (the side mirrors are still my go-to).  When I do use it, I’m not interested in seeing my pursuer.  I’m not as concerned about who may be back there (unless it’s a knucklehead weaving through traffic, ignoring everyone’s safety).

My rear-view mirror lets me quickly see where I’ve been, and that’s enough.  The real action is still in front of me, so I’m glad my mirror doesn’t block that view.

Otherwise, it would have to go.

Rear_View

There’s a crack in the gutter where a flower grows…

They’re not supposed to be there. It should be impossible for them to grow…

Pandora is awesome.  I was listening to my Happy Radio channel the other day when this song called Hey, Hey, Hey came on.  It had a catchy tune, and some of the words seemed nice when I chose to listen closely.  It was my first time hearing it, but I knew it had been around a while.

Somewhere in the middle of the song I hear:

There’s a crack in the gutter where a flower grows

Reminding me that everything is possible
Yeah, reminding me that nothing is impossible
You gotta live for the one that you love you know
You gotta love for the life that you live you know

Singing hey, hey, hey
No matter how life is today
There’s just one thing that I got to say
I won’t let another moment slip away

That got my attention.

How many times have you seen a plant (sometimes a weed, but that’s really in the eye of the beholder) growing out of a crack in the sidewalk, or the gutter?  How about the tree that figures out how to grow from within a cracked boulder?

They’re not supposed to be there.  It should be impossible for them to grow.  Yet, there they are.  Thriving in the most inhospitable of environments.

Each of us have the same ability to overcome adversity.  To be the flower growing in the crack in the gutter.  To grow and thrive in our little corner of the world, making a small but important difference to those around us.

Life is a journey, and it can be a struggle.  But, it’s also a triumph, and an opportunity to make our mark in places nobody (including ourselves) would ever expect.

 

Here’s the whole song…and, yeah, it’s been around since 2010.  Only took me five years to notice it (not good for my hipster cred):  Hey, Hey, Hey

 

Closing Your Eyes to See More Clearly

Have you ever tried brushing your teeth with your eyes closed, or in total darkness? I’m sure you’re asking, “How hard can that be?”

Have you ever tried brushing your teeth with your eyes closed, or in total darkness?  I’m sure you’re asking, “How hard can that be?”

Give it a shot and you’ll find out.

Would you be able to find the toothpaste?  How about your toothbrush?  The sink?  Now for the tough part.  Can you put the right amount of toothpaste on the toothbrush?

Maybe you mastered all of that, and even brushed the proper amount of time.  Are you sure you’re spitting in the sink?  Did you put the toothbrush back where it belongs?  How about the toothpaste?

You (should) brush at least twice a day.  Multiply that by your lifetime of days, and that’s a lot of practice.  Your brain should do it automatically…and it does until you eliminate one sense (sight in this case).  Then it gets a lot harder.

So hard that you may find all your attention focused on that one simple task.  For that moment, you will be fully present.  No distractions.  Only a laser focus on trying to figure out how to get the right amount of toothpaste on the toothbrush without making a mess.

Our brains are amazing.  The biggest consumer of calories within our bodies.  So, over millions of years of development, our brains have found ways to disengage (in the interest of energy conservation).  Once our brain establishes a pattern for an activity, it flips the “auto-pilot” switch and rests.

Think about all things you do in a day without thinking.  Or, maybe all the things you do while thinking too much.  What if you approached each one a little differently?

Commute to work a completely different way.  Shop in the opposite direction (admit it, when you go to “your” grocery store, you usually go in the same direction).  Put your shoes on starting with the other foot.

Put a penny next to your smart phone.  Pick it up instead of your phone when you get that urge to check your messages.  A penny for your thought.  Maybe you can give those pennies to a charity.  Since this is for your favorite charity, what if you put a $20 bill there instead?  That habit of yours may actually help someone else.

Which brings us back to the original premise.  Brushing your teeth in the dark.  Try it.  You just might see things a bit more clearly.

 

Here’s the kicker.  If you brush in the dark for about a week, it will become second nature to you, and (you guessed it) your brain will once again go on auto-pilot.  Time to switch it up again!

 

What’s Not to Love about Carrot Cake?

They called it carrot cake, but this cake was a lot more than carrots, and it was awesome!

I had my first piece of carrot cake in 1974, or maybe it was 1973.  We were at my uncle Denby’s wedding, and the cake they served was this oddly wonderful concoction of flavors I had never tasted.  Being one of the munchkins in the crowd, I did what smart munchkins did back then:  I eavesdropped on the adults who were talking about the cake.

They called it carrot cake, but this cake was a lot more than carrots, and it was awesome!

I don’t remember having carrot cake again until college.  I may have had it before then, but those memories are lost in a din of other information like the capital of North Dakota, the difference between an adverb and an adjective, why the earth rotates around the sun and not the other way around, and who shot J.R (we watched that episode with a huge crowd of Hilltoppers in a hotel bar in Rosarito Beach, but that’s another story).

Whenever I see carrot cake as a dessert option at a restaurant, I order it.  Carrot cake muffin?  Gotta have it.  I’ve sampled carrot cake recipes across the US, and even a couple in foreign countries.  Some are decent.  Claim Jumper’s is probably the best, especially with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (everything is good with a scoop of ice cream).

When the time came to choose our wedding cake, Janet and I chose carrot cake.  Actually, I think Janet knew I’d love it, and it was her small wedding gift to me.  The only bite of that cake I got that day was in the cake-cutting ceremony.  We were too busy with all the other wedding stuff to actually eat any of the awesome cake we’d chosen.

As good as everyone else’s carrot cake is, none come close to mom’s.  Mom’s is the only carrot cake that captures the awesomeness of my first carrot cake experience in the ‘70s.  It’s simply the best.

Unfortunately, my love affair with all things carrot cake came to a screeching halt a little over a year ago when I was diagnosed with gluten intolerance.  Someone asked me recently what I miss the most now that I basically can’t eat anything made with wheat, or containing gluten as an additive (it’s hidden in tons of sauces, dressings, and of course, beer).

The first thing that popped into my head was carrot cake.  It’s not that I miss the taste of carrot cake so much (but, really I do).  It’s the freedom to try everyone’s attempt at carrot cake…knowing that none will compare to mom’s.  I miss getting to have a huge slice of carrot cake at mom’s, and then getting to take about half of the cake home (since it’s not everyone else’s favorite) to enjoy every night for a week.  There’s nothing like a slice of carrot cake and a tall glass of milk after a hard day of whatever I did that day.

Thanks to gluten intolerance, I thought those days were gone.  Not so fast!

Turns out there’s an excellent gluten-free “all-purpose flour” available at Trader Joe’s.  What’s the first thing I thought of when I saw it?  You guessed it!  I need to get mom a couple pounds of this stuff so she can make some of her carrot cake with it, just in time for my 49th birthday!

We are about t-minus one hour from heading over to mom and dad’s to celebrate the September birthdays in our family (there are a bunch of them).  We’ll eat some barbecued steaks with all the trimmings.  But, more importantly, we’ll be trying the gluten-free carrot cake that she and my niece baked.  I’ve heard that it’s pretty good.

I know it will be awesome.  Why?  Mom (and my niece) made it, and that’s all that matters.

 

It’s Only a Hundred Years

The life we build is rarely planned, and only takes shape in retrospect…

“I’m 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I’m just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are”

I’ve come to realize that life can be divided into quarters, each (hopefully) lasting 25 years.  Every quarter has its own unique challenges, and opportunities.  Some things we care deeply about in one quarter don’t matter as much in the next.  Each quarter carries mystery, and revelation.

“I’m 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I’m a ‘they’
A kid on the way, babe.
A family on my mind”

Experience reveals the nature of our mysteries.  A total mystery in one quarter often becomes a given in the next.  I have a good friend who likes to say, “I’m gonna be one smart mutha, just before I die.”  I suppose that’s the irony of life.  Just as you’re totally prepared to live it, it’s over.

“I’m 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I’m heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life”

It may be a revelation to some that we are never totally prepared.  We never know everything (and don’t remember it even if we do).  We rarely understand all that is happening around us.  The life we build is rarely planned, and only takes shape in retrospect.

“Half time goes by
Suddenly you’re wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We’re moving on…”

This doesn’t mean that we throw all caution to the wind, ignoring what others have learned, bouncing from one experience to another.  Life carries a ton of mysteries, but we can (and should) learn from those who have gone before us.  Those who faced similar mysteries, similar challenges.

“15 there’s still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you’re on your way
Everyday’s a new day…”

Each of us has something to share with our fellow travelers.  We can shed light on their mystery.  Show a way.  Lead by example.  Reveal truths that we can clearly see.

“I’m 99 for a moment
And dying for just another moment
And I’m just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are”

In the process, we reveal new truths for ourselves, see with new eyes, and listen with new attention.  That’s the journey.  Enjoy every minute of it.

“When you only got a hundred years to live.”  -John Ondrasik, Five for Fighting

 

 

One Syllable Words

The assignment: Describe the most dramatic moment in your life. Easy. But, there were two rules…

The assignment:  Describe the most dramatic moment in your life.  Easy.  But, there were two rules:

1) You have 15 minutes.

2) Only use one-syllable words.

That’s a little tougher.

Here was my entry:

“The rate is gone!”

“Turn her!”

“Code blue!” yelled the nurse.

All of the white coats on the floor were there fast.  Jan’s eyes showed her fear.  I was no help.  I froze and watched in awe.

One nurse pushed some drug in her arm.  One nurse held her hand.  Two docs barked new plans and the group worked their plan.

“Crash cart!” yelled one doc.

“We must go in.  The child may be lost!”

This was our first child.  We had been there for a day and a half, and now this.  What did it all mean?  Would our child make it out to see the world?

They ran down the hall on her bed with wheels.  There I stood.  The clock read five. The mess showed what was left from my child’s fight for life.  Where did they go?  I did not know so I stood there in the dark for at least three ticks of the clock.

“Sir, your wife is fine,” the nurse said.  She had found me and showed me to the room.  “Your child is fine.  Come in and see.  Would you like to hold her?”

Our girl was born!  From out of the dark, the world turned bright for us all that day.

***

Twenty-five years later, yet it seems like only a few minutes have passed.  Julianne made her dramatic entrance, and our lives have never been the same.

Happy (slightly early) Birthday, Julianne!

 

Some Things I Know to Be True

  1. Airplanes generally don’t crash due to one failure, or unexpected event. They rarely crash when a second failure happens.  It’s usually the third unexpected event that brings it down.  This tragic truism in real-life plane travel can be applied to life.  Consider your own “plane crashes.”  Were they preceded by just one failure, or unexpected event?    It was probably the second and third failure that actually brought things down.  We learn more from failures than successes.  Even better are the lessons that come when we honestly and thoroughly investigate our own plane crashes, and the series of failures that caused them.
  1. Speaking of success. Success is all about definition.  The only definition that matters is the one you create for yourself.  Success, by any definition, won’t bring truly transcendent happiness.
  1. Transcendent happiness comes from within.  Its foundation is a belief in something greater than yourself.  Something that you can’t touch, taste, see, smell, or hear.
  1. Speaking of something greater than yourself.  Love is the most powerful force in the universe.  It transcends all time and space.  Love can’t be stopped by death.  Being loved, and loving others, fills your soul.  Love is free, and yet it has infinite value.
  1. Teaching your son to cook blueberry muffins for his dad is one of the best gifts a mom can give to her son (and husband). Texting a photo of that cooking lesson to his grandpa is a great way to demonstrate truth number four.

James_Cooking_Muffins

The Most Powerful Feature on Your Phone

Smart phones have unbelievable power. I recently read that the Apollo 11 spacecraft that landed on the moon had…

Smart phones have unbelievable power.  I recently read that the Apollo 11 spacecraft that landed on the moon had 1,300 times less computing power than an iPhone.  And, I bet the iPhone takes better pictures than most of Apollo 11’s cameras.

Continuous connectivity, access to all the information the internet has to offer, games, and the ability to talk to family and friends from almost anywhere (it is a phone after all).  All great features.  But there’s an even more powerful feature.

Airplane mode.

It’s not just for flying.

Next time you’re asked to silence your cell phone, try airplane mode instead.

Going for a run, bike ride, or a workout at the gym?  Airplane mode.  Your music will play just fine.  Better yet, how about listening to the rhythm of your own thoughts?

Having dinner?  Airplane mode.  Enjoy the sanctity of good food and good company (that would be the people at the dinner table with you).

Watching your kid’s game?  Airplane mode.  Try out the video capture capabilities of your phone without being interrupted by some alert.

Playing Risk with your kids?  Airplane mode.  Worldwide domination demands your undivided attention.

Walking on the beach with someone you love.  Airplane mode.  Hold their hand instead of your phone.

Continuous connectivity is amazing.

Airplane mode controls the very definition of “continuous.”  That’s real power.

Use it wisely and enjoy being present.

The End of the Beginning

I should mention one detail: I wasn’t Catholic…

sistine-chapel-ceiling

There I was, about to enjoy my Chipotle for lunch, listening to some financial news, when the commercial came on.  The Catholic Channel was covering the papal election over on channel 129.

That’s right, I thought.  They’re electing a new Pope today.  Funny, we had just visited Vatican City a few months before Pope Benedict announced his retirement.  What a beautiful place!  It was huge.  Michelangelo’s paintings in the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel were breathtaking.  The views of Rome from the top of the dome in St. Peter’s were spectacular.

What do they talk about on that channel when there isn’t a papal election, I wondered.  I switched over to 129.  My timing wasn’t bad.  The two hosts were all fired up.  A new Pope had been elected!  Their excitement was overwhelming.  “We have a new Vicar of Christ, and he’s about to make his first appearance,” one of them said.  They were waiting for him to come out and make his first appearance in the window above St. Peter’s Square.

As I sat there, listening to them talk about this new Vicar, I realized I had tears running down my face.  Tears of happiness.  “We” had a new Pope!  A new Holy Father to shepherd us in the Way of Christ.

I should mention one detail:  I wasn’t Catholic.

Why was I so excited about this new Pope?  Why was my heart filled with new joy and warmth at the thought of this new Pope and the energy he’d be bringing to the Church?

I drove back to work, wondering for a minute what this all meant.  I quickly turned my thoughts to something else.  I switched my radio over to The Blend, and acted like nothing had happened.

As I drove home from work later that day, I switched back to 129 to hear more about the new Pope.

I let almost a year go by without taking any action, or telling anyone about my new-found favorite station.

It’s not like the news that I had suddenly felt a spiritual (religious?) connection to the Catholic Church would be unwelcome in my family.  My wife and daughters are Catholic.  My daughters both graduated college with theology and philosophy degrees.  My in-laws are Catholic.  Many of our friends are Catholic.  I’ve been an active volunteer at our Church for years.  I had always been connected to the Catholic Church, but never had a spiritual connection.  I never truly believed.

Now, for the first time in my life, I believed.  An emptiness I didn’t know I had was suddenly filled.

I remember going to a weekend camp when I was about eight years old.  Big David (who was a few years older than Little David, who also lived on our street) invited me to attend his camp in the mountains.  That sounded pretty great to me, and I’m sure my parents were happy to have a weekend break from one of their rambunctious sons.

I didn’t know it at the time, but it was a Bible camp.  This would be my first introduction to anything religious, since my family wasn’t religious.  We arrived and were assigned to our cabins and counselors.  I don’t remember my counselor’s name, but I do remember one of the first questions he asked me.  “Bobby, have you accepted Jesus into your heart?”

Who was Jesus?  What does he mean to accept Him?  Why was I the only one he asked?  What is this place?  I spent an awkward weekend, being a volunteer kitchen helper (each cabin was in charge of service for one meal), listening to lectures from the Bible, and being asked at least once a day if I was ready to accept Jesus into my heart.  Needless to say, my first introduction to Jesus didn’t go well.

I had a few more introductions over the years, and finally was introduced more formally by my (soon-to-be, at the time) wife, Janet.  I learned a lot about the Catholic Church as I prepared to be married in one.  And yet, I still didn’t know who Jesus was.  I kept having the same questions I had when I was eight.  Besides, I had things pretty well figured out, and going to church was a lot of commitment.

It’s interesting to me that the number forty comes up a lot in the Bible.  Jesus spent forty days in the desert, fasting, and praying (and being tempted by Satan) after he was baptized.  Only then was he fully ready to begin his public ministry.  The Israelites spent forty years in the desert before they could return home.  Noah’s Ark was put to use after it rained for forty days and nights.  Moses spent forty days and forty nights on the mountain with God.  Jesus was with his disciples for forty days after his resurrection.

From my first (messy) introduction to Jesus until this past weekend when I was baptized into the Catholic Church, I count forty years, almost to the day.  I’m sure it’s a coincidence.  Just like my random decision to switch over to channel 129 that day.  Or, the way my daughter added some Christian music to my iPod.  Those songs kept coming up over and over each time I went for a run.  I got to know those songs pretty well.  So well that I actually started thinking about their meaning, even before that day our new Pope was elected.

My baptism, confirmation, and first communion last Saturday night were the culmination of an almost year-long preparation process.  The process included classes every Sunday, after Mass.  It also included a ton of reading that I assigned to myself.  Books about the Rosary, the Saints, Saint Paul the Apostle (the Saint I chose as my Confirmation Saint), and the Holy Land.  I also did lots of reading from the Bible itself, as well as the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Funny thing is that throughout this process, I couldn’t wait for each Sunday to come.  I couldn’t wait to learn more about my faith, my Church’s history, and the love that Jesus has for each of us.  What was an unreasonable commitment to my younger self has become an integral part of who I am today.

After forty years, I’m coming to the end of the beginning of my relationship with God.

Looking back, I can see so many places where God was with me, even as I ignored Him, or spoke against Him.  He was patient.  He knew I’d eventually find Him right where He’s always been…beside me.