The Answer May be Behind Us

Yesterday I checked into a Hampton Inn somewhere west of St. Louis for a meeting this morning with a new(ish) customer. When I checked in, though late in the afternoon, I asked if they had any USA Todays left. They did not have today's edition but yesterday's. Since I hadn't read it, I took a copy and scanned through it while working on the laptop. I came across an article titled, "Millenials aren't amoral, adrift"

The article rightly points out that older generations tend to view younger generations with an enormous amount of skepticism. Everything they do is wrong and everything we do is right. The term "going to hell in hand basket" was a term used by my parent's generation to describe my group. The older I get, the more I tend to agree with them. But the younger generations do have two areas that diverge strongly from my parent's generation. The rejection of worldly religious/secular/political organizations, and the tolerance for lifestyles that do not easily fit into the conservative framework. My generation seems to be the "missing link" in this argument. Like a hybridization gone terribly wrong, my generation seems to encapsulate all that is wrong with generations on both sides. Alas, I digress.

In the article are various authors of note quoting either one side or the other, but the essence is that the generations behind us have a very different world-view than we do. While rejecting the authority of the organizations, they have a keen interest in social justice. They have discovered all too well that the organizations of the world today are far more interested in the health and vitality of the organization than the individuals who make up that organization. In this I agree with them. Church today is far more about marketing than maturing. Politics is about greed than governing. The common discourse is demonizing anyone who disagrees with your singular and insular point of view.

So what makes those of us over 45 cringe with the younger crowd? They make us uncomfortable with their ability to ignore the church politics while flinging themselves into secular volunteerism. Why? Because they see far less damage by the organization towards those being helped or the volunteers carrying out the mission than they do in "church". They believe in Jesus, pray daily, and find no issue with friends and family who embrace another lifestyle. This last one drives the old folks crazy. As it becomes more culturally acceptable to live an alternate lifestyle, we will have develop a language that will become inclusive, rather than exclusive. By the way, if "all good things come from heaven" how can we condemn a long-term, loving, sacrificial relationship between homosexuals? I have observed one for many years as one partner cared daily for her partner who had a massive stroke, FOR YEARS. I'm just saying that there are a lot of layers to this blanket condemnation we publish, yet our younger travelers seem to accept and love and embrace those with ease.

These younger generations can teach a thing or two about getting to the core essence of being engaged at an organic level, of accepting people for who and where they are, of focusing their energy on finding common ground instead of battle ground. I think I like these young folks a lot. Maybe I can dye my hair, lose a few, and sit on their back row and listen. You never know, I might learn something.

Godspeed to you millenialists, we don't understand you, but we are beginning to trust your instincts.
Don

Showers are Parties

Showers are parties for the softer side of human-kind. Showers for the ugly side are a quick way to get clean without sitting down. I will freely admit that I do not understand the allure of the female affinity for this event (the party shower, not the cleaning shower).

Oh, I get the need and willingness to gather stuff for the coming nuptials or the impending baby arrival. I just don't get the fervor around making it a party. Now there is the nuance of having "themes" for these showers. Hmm, isn't a baby theme enough?

So for days and weeks ahead of the shower a group of women gather and plan the event. Like the "elder" women conferring on the young mother-to-be not only the essentials like strollers and diaper bags and baby clothes, but the constant transmittal of knowledge through legend.
"My second one carried a lot lower and that seemed to be a boy/girl thing"
"You will know when it is time to go to the hospital because..." (frankly I quit listening, it was becoming much too graphic for my comfort level)
"Oh they let you stay for 48 hours instead of 24, like when mine were born"
On and on the legend and lore of baby birthing is transmitted from one generation to the next.

And the planning of the shower is almost as intense as the development of the baby. What kind of food, where it should be, what decorations need to be rounded up, who to invite. My eldest daughter stated early that she couldn't help all that much leading up to the event, but she wanted to be in charge. Guys would balk at this concept, the ladies all seemed to think this was a great idea. Sometimes I just have to shrug my shoulders and realize that I will never get it.

Then the actual day of the event and I am informed that my strong back would be needed to haul decorations/cake plates/desserts/gifts to the location. My opinions/views/remarks were not welcome AT ALL. So, like the whipped husband and father I am, I loaded boxes and unloaded boxes standing in the living room like a big dumb farm animal holding the box until I was told specifically where to set it down. Thank goodness my eldest daughter was there, she can make a quick decisions and there is no one to disagree. After all they put in her in charge.

I will tell you that we men have no interest in this event. The quickest way to get a man to shake in his shoes is tell him it is a "couples shower." We would rather have a doctor's exam than to endure these things. The food is marginal (rarely any meat) the conversation is so estrogen-filled that we can't hear it (like a dog whistle, we know from the reactions that something is being said, we just can't hear it) and our tolerance for all things pink is pretty low.

We made through though. My youngest is having some really early signs of labor, my son-in-law is a little stunned by the entire thing (The first time around was a C-section) I think he prefers the schedule. Lola's room is ready, though awfully pink. We are locked and loaded..

Godspeed out there to all the guys who have or will go through this right of passage. We have all done it. We just don't understand it.
Don

Traveler, Not Tourist

I have come to a spot on the journey that seems like an odd spot for me. For those who follow this blog, or more importantly know me, know that I have a deep love for all things spiritual. It is the spiritual side of life that gives us depth and discernment, maturity and peace. This has not been an easy journey for me. My self-developed depiction of my life is functional skeptic. Which merely means that I find a way function, but have all kinds of doubts and questions and objections. Engineers ask questions of what and how, skeptics are constantly asking why.

But I have found a moment on the journey where I feel I am okay with all that. It seems that the spiritual journey and the religious journey have diverged on my path. The religious journey is the paved trail leading to all the tourist spots. These tourist spots dazzle and lure, but I have grown tired of them. It is like reaching for the cookie that is full of empty calories and burning my fingers one too many times. The pain is real, the calories are empty.

Instead, it seems that I have found a small footpath, overgrown with foliage, crisscrossing through climbs and descents. It is a bit more hazardous, it is not well marked. It seems to come with more pitfalls. But just recently, it feels that I have broken through the last of the underbrush and found myself panting and sweating from the exertion, but stunned by the view. The valley below and the rising hills across the valley hold my attention far longer and deeper than the bright lights of the tourist spot. I can let the backpack sink to the ground and I can find rest.

It seems that God would be pleased with this. I can't imagine that he intended me to be frustrated and marginalized in the organization we now call "church". It feels like He is whispering in my ear, "This is what I wanted you to see."
So I drink it in. I savor the moment. Because you see I still have journey left in my life. My old backpack and I have more miles to go. The path has not ended.

Godspeed, If you are behind me on the trail, hang in there, the view is spectacular. If you are one of the ones that help make the trail, thank you and keep moving, I will catch up with you later.
Don

My 58th Year

As some of you know, yesterday was my birthday. Like a few birthdays in the past it was in the middle of the week, so I was on the road...with one of my reps...in Arkansas. Not the ideal situation, but probably not the last. It was an okay day. We saw a couple of accounts, then drove an hour and half to Jonesboro, AR. It is fine to spend this kind of time with people you know and love, it is another matter when it is someone you just met, you have to be making an evaluation of how he does his job, and you have to fill in all the other time with small talk. He was not the most annoying person I have ever met, but after a few hours almost anyone will get a little tiresome. I'm sure he feels the same about me. But as a good friend of mine says, "I can hold a bear's head in a snuff box that long."

So we had my birthday dinner at a decent restaurant and called it an early night.
I spoke to all my kids throughout the day, got a birthday song from my two oldest grandkids, and a garbled wish from my third grandchild, got some really nice birthday wishes on Facebook (by the way, what is the proper etiquette? Should I respond to each one, or just do one and hope they see it..maybe I can post some photos, oh wait, probably not a good idea) and spoke to my bride before turning in for the day. The greatest wonder in my life is how many people seem to love me and I can't figure out why.

This morning I was having a nice cup of coffee in the hotel, reading USA Today, and just watching the other guests wander around in the breakfast area. Then I noticed a guy about my age gathering his breakfast and every time he turned his back to me I saw the size tag that manufacturers put on jeans and pants. You know the little adhesive strip that runs down the back of the pant. This guy probably shared some parallel to my life. He was (obviously) wearing new jeans, with casual dress shoes and a tucked in sport shirt. Now I have finally been coerced by my daughters and my bride to buy nice jeans and "younger" shirts to wear untucked. It drives me nuts, but the ladies in my life seem to like it. This guy has succumbed to part of the pressure with the new jeans, but is still tucking his shirt in. So here I sit, sort of snickering about him forgetting to take the tag off the new jeans and then defiantly tucking his shirt in. I wanted to tell him the defiance is futile, I know I've tried.

Then I realized this is my first day of my 58th year. Like the Chinese I have decided to name each year. This next one will be the year of KINDNESS. It is going to be my motto this year to give everyone a break. No more superiority, no more confrontations, no more combat. This is the year that will be full of peace and tranquility, of peace-making. The world will be a better place when I celebrate my birthday in 2013.

So I finished my coffee, enjoyed the internal snickering just a bit longer (it is a new imitative after all) then swung by his table and casually mentioned that he still had the size tag on his jeans. I never even slowed down. As I turned the corner I heard him say, "Thanks" At least it wasn't his zipper or something really embarrassing. I might of had to come up with a different banner for the year. By the way, I did see an airline pilot strolling through O'Hare last week with his fly open. Should've said something, but that was last year.

Godspeed to other travelers. Come travel with me, it will all be kindness for an entire year.
Don

Valentine's Day

There are all sorts of things I could say..all true. How great my bride is, how compassionate, how the years have been more than I could hope for, on and on and on.

Here is the very simple truth.
I love her more today than ever before. There is no consideration of a life without her.

Godspeed to all who had the great good fortune to find a life traveling companion.

Beverly, I love you so. Always have, always will.
Don

Bumpy Roads

As this journey continues I find that my role in the lives of those around me is changing. 8 years ago when my first grandson was born, it occurred to me that my generation was no longer the generation of focus. This focus now belonged to my kids. They are now the ones who have responsibility for more than one generation. They have primary responsibility for the generation behind them, they are responsible for shouldering the load for leadership in the world around them, and my generation has moved beyond both of those roles. We are now more mentors than management. Our time is largely over to make an impact on the world around us. You can argue with me all you want, but you know that deep down inside that I am speaking the truth. It does not mean that we no longer have value, or that our contributions are not worthwhile. It just means that the real responsibility lies in the generation behind us. And I am encouraged.

This past week has been another week of enlightenment about how the world is beginning to change around us. As I watch each of my kids and grandkids it occurs to me that they are just where we were at that age. They are all wrestling with career decisions, where to live, what to do, how to accomplish their life goals. They are all trying to find the balance of discipline with kids and guilt about shortcomings in their parenting. Somewhere in the past few years they have started to worry about their parents and what to do with the erosion of health and vitality.

So I worry that they worry. Yet, as I pause for a moment and look back along the trail I realize we faced career decisions. We made some bad choices, we made some huge mistakes raising the kids, we neglected the spiritual opportunities because we were so wrapped up in "today", we failed far more often than we succeeded. And we still came out on the other side. We were perhaps battered and beaten, scarred and bruised, but we came out the other side. And they will do the same. I just wish the pain was not so evident, that the uncertainty was not so overwhelming.

But maybe that is the way it is supposed to be. When I ask each of the kids what they remember about growing up, they remember the laughter, the crazy life of breakfasts on Saturday morning, the family vacations, the church events and the times when they fooled their parents (or thought they did). They rarely mention any of the numerous parenting mistakes, the fights over homework, curfew, or car keys.

How can that be? Because over all of this was a love for them that allowed them to grow, to make mistakes, to sustain a few bumps and bruises on their own. My bride and I tried to remember that the goal of discipline is always self discipline. And now as we watch them work their way through their own lives we can remain silent because we know they have the fundamentals. They will work it out. I just wish we could minimize the pain the little. But you know what? The pain is part of the joy, they cannot be separated.

So Godspeed to all the parents of young ones. You are doing fine, they will not remember the same things you will. They will remember the laughter, the joy, the meals, and the fun.

Don

Panic Attacks

Anyone who has spent any amount of time on this globe will experience panic attacks. These attacks can be initiated by any number of things. It could be as simple as forgetting an appointment, news of a gravely ill loved one, uncertainty about the future, dimming prospects, and the list goes on. These attacks rush in and leave us stunned and silent, fighting the impulse to run and hide.

I have had more attacks than what I consider my share. Gravely ill children, my mother passing away, jobs lost, circumstances far beyond my control. These have become such a part of my world that I can predict where I am in the process. By the way, this self awareness does not minimize the impact, it merely helps me understand where I am.

So what does it look like in my world? The news comes blasting in from left field. Usually I am in involved in the most mundane activities. It takes a few moments to realize what is happening, then the inevitable casting about for alternatives that must be considered..it is a joke, it is not possible, it is not serious (although it sounds terrible) my mind wanders all over for a moment. Then the confirmation that, yes indeed, there is a serious problem. Then the continuing process of trying to decide what to do, when, and what are the consequences.

But in the midst of all the processing of the news is the physical impact of the attack. My bride's response is to stop eating. When we share the event we develop a "battle speak" that gives the other one clues about where we are. She will get up and out to release a little of the tension. I will wait and then try to see if I can help. My response is to feel like I can't quite catch a deep enough breath, there is a heavy feeling in my chest, and most embarrassing of all, I feel like I am going to burst into tears at any little thing.

Here are a few things we have learned about these attacks. Stay busy. Keep your hands busy, keep your head busy. We had such an event this past weekend and my bride worked feverishly on a quilt, I washed/folded/put away clothes, washed dishes, anything to keep busy. But the real work, the real effort is to continue to hand this event over to the One who can comfort, can work it out, does see the future. So while I am folding a tee-shirt, I say a prayer, then the next set of socks, prayer, drinking glass in the dishwasher, prayer, pick up a stray toy, prayer...

There is something inside me that makes me think these attacks are somehow nonspiritual. That they reflect a shallow or imperfect faith. When I compare my experience to those around me I wonder why I can't seem to find the ability to be joyful when it feels that my world is crumbling from under my feet. But I have learned that my nature does not gloss the circumstances. In fact, my head runs through all the thought strings and some of them are terrifying. So how to deal with this dissonance.

In the old book I find my savior praying to the point of sweating blood. I find a plea to change the inevitable conclusion to the story. I find the authors of all the books peering into the face of disaster, feeling the panic, and then submitting to the events and clinging desperately to the thin rope of faith. When I find people who are in the midst of the same type of attacks I advise them to ignore the impulse to evaluate their faith. I encourage them to simply trust it. The roller-coaster of emotions are natural and God-given.

As in this past weekend, we found some answers, we found some equilibrium, we have found a moment to set aside the battle armor from other attacks. We still find ourselves worn out from the ordeal, but the smoke has cleared and the losses were minimal.

Godspeed to those who are in the midst of these attacks. Cling tight to your faith, let go the notion that you should act in any certain way.

Don