tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71189999696538707302024-03-05T05:39:09.338-06:00Wilderness Wonderings...Reflections and Revelations...often irrelevant or irreverent ramblings of a fellow who doesn't seem to fit well in any of the tidy categories out there. So, here I find a place to ponder "aloud" my thoughts, questions and observations. Perhaps another misfit may find comfort in the wilderness.Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.comBlogger70125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-86057636653790440852020-10-04T15:30:00.042-05:002022-09-10T15:41:45.120-05:00Where are You From?No question elicits more anxiety than this one. At times, I even avoid meeting new people just to side-step this question. “Where are you from?”—seems like such an easy question that should have such an easy answer. For me and others like me, not so. I am a part of that societal anomaly called “Third Culture Kids”—those are born in one culture, raised in another, and never completely ‘at home’ anywhere. Allow me to explain… <div><br /></div><div> I was born in south Alabama…way down south where the peanut and cotton fields fill the landscape. I came into that world in the mid-60’s…long before cable TV, central a/c, cell phones, and anything akin to ‘urban sprawl.’ My daddy was the Baptist preacher at a small and growin’ church outside of Dothan, Alabama…that’s ‘Dothan’ – “DOOOE-thun.” My momma, a school teacher, and daddy raised my two older brothers and me in a good Southern home. </div><div><br /></div><div> My few memories of this time include hot summer evenings, a kiddie-pool full of frogs my brothers and their friends had caught, and the stand of pines behind the house with the trail that led Ms. Kirkland’s house. The pine needles muffled all the sounds underfoot, and the thick trees quieted all the other sounds—this was a place of solitude and peace. But, that’s it for the memories—we lived there until I just turned four-years-old. </div><div><br /></div><div>Good Baptists that my momma and daddy were, they were anxious for opportunities to share the Gospel—that good message of Jesus—with the rest of the world. So, when the chance came along to go and serve as missionaries in a foreign land, they jumped at it. In 1969, we all moved to the former British colony of Guyana on the northeast coast of South America. </div><div><br /></div><div>We arrive deh in dis land…soooo different from de place back in de US. We was some of de only white people in a sea of colour. Deh was a lot of black people, descendants of slaves and others from Africa…an’ a lot of dem was Muslim. Yes, people don’ realize dat right der in Guyana, Sout’ America, almost every town an’ city have Muslim mosques. Den, another part of de population is from India…a lot of Hindu walkin’ the streets. And, we had Hindu temple everywhere. But, is a British colony, so another piece of the people—blacks and Indians—is Christian. Oh…one mo’ piece—the native peoples…the indigenous people dat live in the interior—the Wai-Wai and Wakashani and oder tribes. </div><div><br /></div><div> What a place for this boi to grow up, eh! My parents was smart in dat dey put us in de national schools—not in de “American Schools.”—when we reach dere. So, we learn de culture, de language. Yes, dey speak English…but more of a patois—a mix-up, mix-up language wid pieces of Indian, French, an’ other languages mix in. For example, we didn’ jus’ say “yes.” We say, “Yes, oui!” </div><div><br /></div><div>And, my parents was smart too in dat dey didn’ try to live the American life-style like so many expats. Yes, mon, we eat de food of de people: chana, pilau, cook-up…plantain, marme-apple. Yes, we was livin’ like Guyanese, eatin’ Guyanese, an’ talkin’ Guyanese.
Guyana was a wild and untame’ land…a land of violence at times between de races an’ between de religions. </div><div><br /></div><div>An hour an’ a half from de capital city of Georgetown, an’ we would be on de rolling savannahs with the indigenous people, or we could be in de almos’ impenetrable jungles with jaguar and tapir. Guyana means ‘land of many waters’…and that was true—rivers everywhere, and rains that flooded the land. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, de government dere tell us dat we can’t stay—dey kick out all the Americans. So, my parents wasn’t ready yet to head back to America, so we tranfer to de island of Grenada in the southern Caribbean when I was just eight-years-old. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tanks be to God, de language was about de same! But the world was sooo different. We went from a multi-cultural world of Hindus, Muslims, an’ Christians to a mostly Christian culture…even if the people wasn’t too active in the fait’. And, we went from de wild lands—jungles and savannahs—of Guyana to de tropical paradise of rain forest an’ beaches of Grenada.
In Grenada, we live’ on de beach, mon. Yes, an’ I was deh every day afta school. Jus’ me an’ my dog…walkin’ de beach, swimmin’ in de ocean. This place define paradise…and it define me, too! </div><div><br /></div><div>We live dere until I reach almost 17 years of age. So, all my adolescence pass on this island.
My bruder, Jeff, and I had small boat that we would take out to de reef…all de time. We would snorkel every afternoon afta’ school and most every Saturday. If we wasn’ snorkelin’, we was fishin’. It was de life, mon! Ah love’ it! </div><div><br /></div><div>De school day was short—we start at 7:30am an’ finish at 1:30pm. So, it was straight home to a meal of some kind of fish usually—most of de time, flyin’ fish. We eat a lot of rice, fresh fruit an’ vegetable. In place of potato, we e’t breadfruit—boiled, fried, in stew or soup. Yes, mon, I miss de food of dat place! </div><div><br /></div><div>When I turn 14 years old, my father buy me a moto’cycle. Freedom, mon, freedom! I come an’ go how an’ when I want to…well, to a degree. But really, Grenada was a sweet life. It was de best life. When I dream about ‘de good life,’ I dream about Grenada.
But, tings don’ last, nah. So, in 1982, we make de move back to the US. We leave behind de magic of the island so I could prepare for university in de US. </div><div><br /></div><div>In June of 1982, we arrived in Atlanta, Georgia.
High school was easy in the US after having studied in the British system in the Caribbean. I cruised through the last two years high school and went on to college where I majored—finally—in English (I had six declared majors in college—I just enjoyed everything!) </div><div><br /></div><div>After college, I opted for graduate school, and off I went to the University of Louisville, in KY. In Louisville, I met my wife, Jeanne. After grad school, I accepted a teaching position in Georgia, so off we went again. From Georgia, my teaching then took us to south Texas, to McAllen, and then to Michigan. From Michigan, we went back to Georgia…and it was there we decided to make a change. After all, my life abroad was life-shaping for me. Why not give our three children the chance to experience the world?
In July 2005, we arrived in Barquisimeto, Venezuela, where I would work with the Methodist Church and various institutions of higher education. </div><div><br /></div><div>¡Guau! Que diferente este mundo en Venezuela. Na’guara! Por casualidad, Venezuela está pegado con Guyana…pero es otro mundo. Llegamos allá con muy pocas palabras en español. Sin embargo, seguimos la práctica de mis padres—ponemos a nuestros hijos en las escuelas locales, nacionales…para aprender el idioma y la cultura. Yo aprendí el idioma con mi diccionario en una mano y mi amigo, Samuel, a mi otra mano. También, vivimos como la gente—comemos las comidas locales: empanada, yuca, pasta con salsa de tomate, las frutas y vegetales indígenas. </div><div><br /></div><div>La gente de Venezuela son una gente cálida, abierta. En 2005, Chavez estaba todavía…y la economía estaba bajando. Pasamos tiempos de escasez—sin azúcar a veces, sin papel higiénico en un mes, y aun un tiempo sin café (¡qué horror!). </div><div><br /></div><div>En 2007, la violencia estaba creciendo, y decidimos por la seguridad de nuestros hijos que ya llegó el tiempo por un cambio. En junio 2008, nos mudamos a Monterrey, México. </div><div><br /></div><div>¡Nos encantó ‘la ciudad de las montañas’! Nuestros hijos encontraron amigos en sus escuelas y en la iglesia. Encontramos amigos en la comunidad y en la iglesia. Y en una ciudad de unas 6,000,000 personas, encontramos una vida nueva. </div><div><br /></div><div>Aquí también, mi esposita encontró trabajo en una escuela como maestra de inglés. Yo estaba trabajando con la Universidad de Monterrey (UDEM) y con el Seminario Metodista Juan Wesley (SMJW). Yo estaba dando clases en inglés (UDEM) y en español (SMJW). ¡Estábamos viviendo la vida! </div><div><br /></div><div>Y de repente…llegó la violencia--violencia por la economía, violencia por los carteles. A pesar de la violencia, nunca—NUNCA—nos sentimos amenazado. Viajábamos por camión a todas partes de la ciudad. Salimos en las calles con amigos y compañeros. Vivimos con la gente, como la gente. Estábamos ‘Regios’…y nos gustó la vida. </div><div><br /></div><div>Llegó el momento en cuando una hija nuestra estaba lista entrar la uni y nuestro hijo estaba listo entrar la prepa. Nuestra hija mayor ya regresó a los EEUU para asistir la uni, y no fue bien con ella—enfrentó un golpe cultural después de tantos años en el mundo Latino. Entonces, decidimos no enviar a los otros hijos solos a los EEUU. Íbamos a ir con ellos. En junio de 2011, regresamos a los Estados Unidos…pero no a Georgia. Esta vez, nos ubicamos en McAllen, Texas—in the US, but close to ‘home’ (Monterrey) for our teenaged children. </div><div><br /></div><div>I took a position with South Texas College, and I worked for the college from then until this past June (2014). Our oldest daughter, Jesse, returned to Monterrey and married her high school sweetheart (they recently gave us our first grandson—Santiago Nicholas). Megan studied nursing at South Texas College and is now a trauma nurse in San Antonio. She married this past summer, and she’s now Megan Molina. Andrew, our son, did four years of high school here in the Valley and then went to Austin where he studied computer science at St. Edwards University. He met his girlfriend from California there. Today, they live in Arizona. </div><div><br /></div><div>Jeanne and I have made our home here in the Valley. As a Methodist minister, I served a bilingual congregation in Rio Grande City for five years…and now serve the Church in McAllen, Texas. My wife, Jeanne, and I have lived in Georgia, Venezuela, Mexico, Texas, and Michigan. Before we married, I had lived in the US, Guyana, and Grenada. In all, I lived over 13 years in the Caribbean and now over 16 years in the Latino world. </div><div><br /></div><div>I did not merely ‘live’ in these worlds; I ‘moved in.’ I embraced those worlds…I sank my tent stakes deeply in the soil of the lands where I lived…I breathed deeply the air, ingested the foods, swayed with the music, and did all I could to integrate, to be accepted, to become one with the worlds in which I lived. When my wife and I moved with our children, we did the same…and encouraged our children to do the same. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today, our family gatherings are multi-cultural events—half English, half Spanish, foods from five countries, music from many countries—country music, reggae, reggaetón, 80’s pop, and much more. Also today, my children also flinch at the question: Where are you from? </div><div><br /></div><div>“Where are you from?” Such a simple question that should have such an easy answer. When I hear that question, I pause…usually glace down at my feet a moment trying to decide how to answer. Most folks want a city and state. Do I really respond, “<i>Well, I was born in south Alabama, moved to Guyana, South America, as I turned four; then when I was eight, we moved to Grenada in the West Indies where I lived until I was almost 17. We moved to GA where I went to college…and then to Kentucky for grad school. Married…moved back to GA…then we took our children to Venezuela….</i>” You get the idea. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’ve about decided that the easiest thing to say is, “I’m from Georgia”—that’s where my dad was from. If I’m feeling a bit more free and if I’m willing to dive into the tale, I’ll say, “I’m from Grenada in the Caribbean.” Yeah, that one usually takes some explaining. If I meet someone from Mexico, I’ll say, “Pues, originalmente de Alabama, pero pasamos mucho tiempo en América Latina.” </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I simply mumble something about living in Mission, Texas, and turn the question back: “And where are you from?” Yeah, that’s usually the easiest thing to do….
</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>------------------------------------</div><div>1) More about Third-Culture Kids:</div><div><a href="http://www.tckworld.com/">http://www.tckworld.com/</a></div><div><a href="https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20161117-third-culture-kids-citizens-of-everywhere-and-nowhere" target="_blank">https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20161117-third-culture-kids-citizens-of-everywhere-and-nowhere </a></div>Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-41896418286156319032017-04-04T18:11:00.001-05:002017-04-04T18:11:48.560-05:00Ordinary Life?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Many times I consider my life completely ordinary--I imagine we all do. Then, there are moments like this morning.... Sitting, having a coffee at the Texas Cafe, I look out the window to see the palm trees rustling in the winds that make their way from the coast some 100 miles to the east; I overhear some 'old timers,' speaking in slurred Spanish, trading stories about rattlesnakes; at another table, a 'gringito,' architect, pours over drawings of some local project; the coffee I drink--beans from Colombia, sugar from Mexico--is hot, smooth, enlivening...and I realize that life is anything but ordinary. Life is amazing....</span></div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-80178826436674934062015-10-17T21:51:00.001-05:002015-10-17T21:51:34.039-05:00After a While....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After way too long, I’m back.</div>
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In the last three years, I pretty much exchanged the world of words,
ideas and thoughts for a world of pictures, memes, pithy sayings and ‘likes.’
No more. There is no less.</div>
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The world in which I wish to live is a world of words and
ideas, of thoughts and musings. I want to live in a more meaningful world, a thoughtful
world, a purposefully expressed world. If there are pictures, I want to share
pictures that have meaning, that capture more than breakfast omelets, that will
have meaning and purpose and arouse feelings and thoughts long after I am gone.
I want what I write to be accessible again and again…and to have meaning, to
invite people to think, to capture moments, ideas and events that merit remembrance.</div>
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May I find myself a part of a growing community of
like-minded, mindful, mind-enriching men and women who want their lives to
matter, who want their thoughts to be heard and remembered, who live beyond ‘8hrs
ago.’</div>
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So, I return to the world of writing. It’s good to be home.</div>
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<i> ~Jon~</i></div>
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Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-59743542002626822612015-06-26T18:57:00.000-05:002015-06-26T18:57:22.542-05:00An Underlying Sense of Urgency <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I feel it all around me.
When I’m at the college, I feel it.
When I’m at the grocery store, I feel it. When I’m at church, I feel it. I speak of that underlying sense of urgency
that seems to permeate so many parts of our lives, that subsonic, subliminal
message of “hurry, hurry; do it now; let’s get it done….” Perhaps I show my West Indian hand here. But, if that is the case, then we here in
North America have something to learn from the West Indies…and much of Latin
America, Africa and Asia. Okay…we have
something to learn from most of the rest of the world!</div>
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Why the urgency?
Perhaps it has something to do with our American perception that we must
be “first” in the world. Biggest, best,
fastest, strongest…pick the superlative adjective, and we want to apply it to
ourselves here in the US. On a local
level, apply these same superlatives to individual companies, schools, etc. And, if we’re going to be the best, first,
biggest, etc., I imagine that would indicate a certain sense of urgency. Because if we sit back and move slowly,
someone else just might get ‘there’ first…and then we won’t be the best, first,
biggest, etc. </div>
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Now, what does being the best, first, biggest mean? Well, for a business, it can mean a lot. The race to produce the ‘pad’ device was
quite a heated competition…and the company that got it out first…and did it
best…was going to make the most money. And,
there was “space race” back during the “Cold War”—the race to see who would
reach the moon first. Well, we did. And, now, we can say we were first. That, my friends, may be the most important
thing about being superlative—being able to “SAY” that one is superlative.</div>
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Does it really matter if we have the strongest economy in
the world? Is it not okay to simply have
a strong economy? Does it really matter
if one owns the newest model of a car?
Is it not perfectly fine to own a reliable, proven car that is not the
newest? Does it really matter if our
school is the most innovative school for Hispanic students? Is it not okay to be merely ‘innovative’ and
successful at educating Hispanic students?
Does it matter if our company is the number one company in pad
sales? Is it not enough to provide a
good product for our customers at a good price so that we provide a good living
for our employees? Does it really matter
if we’re the best, first, biggest, etc?
Is it not okay to be good, to be in the mix, to be the size we are?</div>
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Some are already bowing up their backs ready to call me
lazy, ‘the problem with our nation today,’ and perhaps worse. That’s okay…those who are reacting like that
have simply been conditioned by that underlying message that calls, demands!,
that we be best, first, biggest, etc.</div>
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So, back to that urgency.
I think it’s a bad thing. That
urgency translates into what I call ‘low frequency stress’…that underlying,
slowly murderous stress that affects our muscles, our minds, gives us cancers
and ulcers…and permeates our society, slowly killing us through its unceasing
demand that we do more, faster, now, better, to win…to be the best, to be
first, to be the biggest. That’s bad
stuff. And, I don’t want it.</div>
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Rome went that route…and they’re gone. The Byzantines went that route…and they’re
gone. The Ottoman Empire went that
route…and they’re gone. Spain went that
route…and they’re a mere shadow of what they were—and so went Holland, Portugal
and England. Are we so arrogant as to
think that the US is somehow immune to cycles of empires? </div>
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When I sit back and think of Italy, Spain and other former
world powers, I see a people who now <a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>are not moved by a
current of urgency. I see countries that
are content to do well, to carry on, to be who they are…and not to be best,
fastest, biggest. I see the Italians in film
and book enjoying long lunches…extended summer vacations…coffee and pasta and
gelato. I see the Brits even enjoying
the twilight of their empire—they’re slowing down and learning not be to so
uptight. And, I must admit, I look
forward to the day when we are able to reach that coveted place in life…to the
time when we can rest a bit, enjoy life a bit more. </div>
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Meanwhile, there’s that urgency…that low frequency ‘call to
arms’ that underlies too much of our lives here. I’m going to fight it. I’m going to say “no.” I’m going to slow myself down, grab on to
some limb hanging over the waters of life and let the waters rush past if they
want to. As I hold on to that limb, I’m
going to enjoy the feel of the waters, watch the shoreline for any animals that
may need to stop and drink. I’m going to
talk to others on the river…even invite them to join me. But, they’ll probably be in a hurry…rushing
on down the river to some unknown something that promises more than it can
really offer. Yes, then I’ll pull myself
onto the shore…and there I’ll sit in the sun, enjoying the moment of the
day…and dream of gelato.</div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-24062767354076509322015-03-26T13:13:00.000-05:002015-06-26T18:36:18.695-05:00Simple Joys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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An empty cup sits before me, a gift from friends…given to me
when I was in Prague, Czech Republic, in October 2008, a small token of
remembrance on my birthday while I was away from home. That cup is now my
espresso cup, filled and drained daily…much to my mind’s content.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUH5tJfnOY3EsTpxj1wcc8-Jh5TKzwGCD-eAlVrUuAOEQ1GaMo4Kh6nHzQa1aOUUlxnakcvEigzJwvFGNh8SaKm4Iwkcz_rTv3m6CSr0eBzcYukfhjkFQj8FCc7wK6-e-Y1AM9pKNqZ4/s1600/espresso+cup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEUH5tJfnOY3EsTpxj1wcc8-Jh5TKzwGCD-eAlVrUuAOEQ1GaMo4Kh6nHzQa1aOUUlxnakcvEigzJwvFGNh8SaKm4Iwkcz_rTv3m6CSr0eBzcYukfhjkFQj8FCc7wK6-e-Y1AM9pKNqZ4/s1600/espresso+cup.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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I keep learning that the greatest joy and contentment usually
comes from the simple things in life. I think back to the really expensive
gifts I’ve received or even the expensive things I’ve bought…and I struggle to
bring them to mind; they’re all but forgotten. But those simple things that
brought and bring such joy? They are there at the mere thought:</div>
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My espresso cup. A small fire on a cool, Fall evening.
Sitting on a beach, shore or rocky edge overlooking a bay or the sea. The smell
of cookies in the oven. Reading through “The Sermon on the Mount”…again. My old
copies of <i>Orthodoxy</i> (G.K. Chesterton)
and <i>Mere Christianity</i> (C.S.Lewis). My
children laughing together as they tell a tale from days past. A nap sitting in
my favorite chair. An old t-shirt that has seen three continents and stains
from even more cuisines. The sight of a cross—wooden or brass, old or new--it
matters not. Watching the wind bend and bow the trees on a summer afternoon. Sitting
in the evening with my wife, both of us reading novels, her feet propped in my
lap, my hand stretched over the back of the sofa…my hand just brushing her
shoulder.</div>
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Imagining these, peace washes over me. Such simple things…things
that money really cannot buy (even the books—so marked and annotated over the
years…irreplaceable). Yet, we’re told to buy, to better, to bigger...and if we
do, happiness awaits us. We already have the simple joys of life all around
us, and each of us finds joy in unique moments, things and experiences. My
espresso cup means nothing to you; your favorite around-the-house shoes do
nothing for me. We each find our joy, our peace, where we find it. And that is
as it should be.</div>
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Look around you. Think only a few moments. You, too, will
see that the simple things of life, the lasting joys, are around you, in your
memories—no matter where, they are still yours. Breathe deeply, count these
simple blessings, enjoy…and allow the peace to wash over you again.</div>
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~Jon~</div>
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Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-30601430315886101012014-04-18T13:05:00.001-05:002014-04-18T13:05:47.388-05:00Good Friday - 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Good Friday…. Darkness covers the land. Despair covers the
disciples. We see the walk to Golgotha, that place of death, of crucifixion. We
see Jesus and others whipped, beaten…and finally nailed to rough wooden beams.
They are lifted, exposed to the crowds…jeered at, laughed, wept for.
Jesus...King of the Jews? Son of God? He asks His Father to forgive them…offers
some words of consolation to those around…and breathes His last. It is
finished. …Or is it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span lang="ES">Viernes Santo...
La oscuridad cubre la tierra. Desesperación cubre a los discípulos. Vemos el
camino al Gólgota, el lugar de la muerte, de la crucifixión. Vemos a Jesús y
otros azotado, golpeado... y finalmente clavados a las vigas de madera duros.
Ellos se levantan, expuestos a las multitudes... burlas, risas, lágrimas.
¿Jesús, rey de los judíos? ¿Hijo de Dios? Pide a su padre a perdonarlos...
ofrece algunas palabras de consuelo a quienes lo rodean... y respira su última.
Se acabó. ¿O no?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-55182563250394572712013-10-18T10:00:00.000-05:002013-10-18T10:00:15.957-05:00Who Stole "Halloween" from Whom?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally, a voice of reason: “The idea that Christians “stole”
[Halloween] from pagans, therefore, seems pretty far-fetched. In fact the
evidence seems to point the other way: the neopagans seem to have
unintentionally “stolen” it from the Christians….”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="http://khanya.wordpress.com/2007/10/15/halloween-synchroblog/#!" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">http://khanya.wordpress.com/2007/10/15/halloween-synchroblog/#!</a></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-9249202970839295132013-07-24T14:07:00.000-05:002013-07-24T14:07:02.434-05:00Lunch in the Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I’ve started taking my lunch in Retama Park on Maple
Avenue. It’s a three minute walk from my
office…and few people are ever there in the middle of day. This park has become a delightful escape from
the technology, air-conditioning, and straight lines of the office.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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Today, as in other days, I sit on a bench towards the center
of the park, the only bench that’s actually in the shade. A large water-oak spreads it limbs to block
the harsh south Texas sun. In the shade,
the constant breezes making their way from the Gulf make the spot perfect for
reading, thinking…or dozing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B8hFj7mX7lqIDRfr8a_ir-NxXFuVbG3aL6WoHRYsqWbMf7ill37THCcy2-tO3e02vWjDCFQz49I-tngMuk871wa3y6mzCfTA-ztcwtbaatRb88jCJvh3GK_FXFwThyi7mVdZPynU3Fo/s1600/Retama+Park.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9B8hFj7mX7lqIDRfr8a_ir-NxXFuVbG3aL6WoHRYsqWbMf7ill37THCcy2-tO3e02vWjDCFQz49I-tngMuk871wa3y6mzCfTA-ztcwtbaatRb88jCJvh3GK_FXFwThyi7mVdZPynU3Fo/s400/Retama+Park.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I’m reading a novel—Tony Hillerman (<i>The Walking Wind</i>). Out of
the corner of my eye, a person comes into view…a boy…a young boy…a BIG boy…maybe
10-years-old? He has his
basketball. He makes his way onto the
concrete courts where the netting is half torn away from the baskets. He begins to dribble and shoot—duip, duip,
duip, duip….plunk!...duip, duip, duip….<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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I return to my novel.
Shortly, my mind begins to wander…and the sun is slipping through the
leaves making the pages bright…hurting my eyes.
I lay the book down, lean my elbows on my knees to escape the sun, and
rest my chin on my loosely balled fists.
About 25 feet away, a Mexican ground squirrel scurries, haltingly,
through the scrubby grass.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VHY-JSQVpkLjpKttXpCpKsBpnUMUM3llLRMh7bLpcQ0jzNaAqmss1HmzUWwvcM1hyphenhyphenpxaOgEPzYY-3Do4JIhWXNzwzep93p0cDeNMuCp-mRZ40bkz_yi8K64adNSj8YP9a-JsmqVA-50/s1600/Mexican+Ground+Squirrel+-+2297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VHY-JSQVpkLjpKttXpCpKsBpnUMUM3llLRMh7bLpcQ0jzNaAqmss1HmzUWwvcM1hyphenhyphenpxaOgEPzYY-3Do4JIhWXNzwzep93p0cDeNMuCp-mRZ40bkz_yi8K64adNSj8YP9a-JsmqVA-50/s200/Mexican+Ground+Squirrel+-+2297.jpg" width="130" /></a></div>
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“You bored?”</div>
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<br /></div>
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I hadn’t noticed that the dribbling had stopped. Turning to the voice, the lad stands ten feet
away looking at me, ball in hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“No, not bored…just sitting here thinking.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I’m bored.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Well, at least you have a park to play some basketball
in. Do you live close by?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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He points across the street to the public housing for the elderly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“So, you get to come over anytime you want. That’s cool.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yeah…but I’m bored…I’m SO bored. I can’t wait for school to start back.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Well, don’t wish away these summers! I remember when I was your age that summers
dragged on forever. Now, I don’t get
summer breaks…and I miss those days."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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“Well, I just know I’m bored."<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“What grade are you in?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I’m going into sixth grade!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh…so, is that middle school?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I’m not from around here.
I’m just visiting my grandma. I
live in Elsa” (a small, rural town some 45 minutes from where we are.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Not really an answer to my question…but, I guess he thought
ahead to cut off the next inevitable question.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Ah…just spending some time with Grandma?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yeah. You wanna play
some ball?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Laughing a bit, “Uh…well, I have to go back to the office
here in a minute, and in this heat, I’d be a sweaty mess if I played ball. So, I can’t this time….”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh…yeah, okay. You
work at STC?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yes, I work at STC.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“What do you do?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I work in Institutional Effectiveness.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“What’s that?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Well, I make sure everyone in all the programs and departments
stay on track.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Oh…sort of like ‘school monitor’?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Yeah…kind of like a ‘school monitor’.” I laugh.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My lunch hour really is up, so I stand.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Well, I need to get back to work. Have a good time shootin’ hoops.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Okay…I will. See you
later.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“See you….” And, off
I go, back towards the office.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are good kids in this world. He talked easily with me, an adult. He allowed himself to be curious, to ask questions. He was kind…and didn’t cuss (kind of rare for
our neck of the woods.) He had no
devices visible of any kind—no phone, no tablet—nothing to distract him from
his surroundings…or from our conversation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
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Next time, I’m going to shoot some hoops. And, I plan to have a book to give him in his
season of boredom. Next time, if God
gives me a next time….<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-76627319535143184932013-06-29T12:36:00.001-05:002013-06-29T12:36:14.037-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A really good read for our days and times:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arthur-rosenfeld/simplify_b_1253917.html?ref=tw">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/arthur-rosenfeld/simplify_b_1253917.html?ref=tw</a><br />
<br />
Cheers!<br />
<br /></div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-84740393937660098232013-04-24T11:13:00.003-05:002013-04-24T11:23:15.498-05:00Are We Born Good or Bad?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Often times in my classes, we begin to discuss those
questions that deal with ‘worldview’ and ‘ultimate reality.’ The questions usually begin to surface when I
suggest that our perspectives and understandings of the world are built on the foundation
of our ‘presuppositions’—those underlying beliefs that we bring to every
situation or question. For instance, we
have all have presuppositions about humanity.
I ask my students, “Are people, humans, basically good or basically
bad?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How we answer this question will inform how we deal with
others, what we expect of people, how we raise our children, etc. If I presume humanity to be basically good,
then I’m horrified at the Columbines, Auroras, Newtowns and city buses of New
Delhi; if I presume humanity to be basically bad, then I’m not terribly
surprised by the horrors of humanity (or at least I shouldn’t be!)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, is there another option? After we have debated and fleshed out the
good or bad perspectives in my classes, I raise a third perspective (presupposition)—humanity
is not good or bad; people are born selfish, self-centered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyone who has ever had children will recognize it in a
moment. Children really aren’t morally
good or bad until they are old enough to make conscious decisions regarding themselves
in relation to others. BUT, from the
moment they are born, they are absolutely self-absorbed, self-centered,
selfish. They want milk…and they want it
now. Then, they want attention. They want praise. They want…want…want. The children don’t just ‘grow out of it’ –
just take a three-year-0ld up and down aisles of Toys-R-Us or even just a local
grocery stores and you’ll hear it—“But I want….! Waaaaaaaa!”
I even hear it from teenagers…and, lamentably, from adults as well….<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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If we were born bad, that would explain some of the horror
we see in the world…but not the good we see.
If we were born good,…then the world should certainly be a much better
place than it is! But, if we are born
selfish…then, well, that would explain a lot about the world…the good and the
bad.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If individuals are selfish, then groups of individuals would
develop a “group selfishness”…and we see that as corporations seek market
control, political parties push for their party line, as governments push for
patriotism and nationalism. In fact, if
we look at many of the problems today—from the small and local to the big and
national, we can trace the origins of the problems back to good, old-fashioned
selfishness and egoism.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe that the Christian Scriptures recognize self-worship
and self-importance as the greatest problem with humanity…and call for
self-emptying as the highest act of faith. Jesus taught his followers, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's
friends” (TNIV). The very greatest love
one can have is to commit a selfless act. Jesus even 'walked the talk'...right up to an agonizing death on the Cross. If that is the greatest love, then the opposite—the worst thing one can
do—is to pursue selfishness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, if we ‘buy’ this idea—humanity is first and foremost
selfish—what does that mean for us? It
means that before or as we teach our children to be ‘good,’ we have to teach
them to think of others, to act on behalf of others, to live for the benefit of
others…and not just unto themselves. It
means that as adults we must be willing to set aside the pursuit of our
personal gain and recognize that we must help others to achieve and gain as
well. It means that our institutions,
companies and corporations must look beyond themselves and the bottom-line
profits. It means that our nation and
all the other nations must do more than help themselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are people basically good or basically bad? No…we are basically selfish, and the great
human task is to train the coming generation—and move ourselves—to look beyond
ourselves, to think of others. I suppose Jesus is the one who shows us best how to get there....<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-87902724638813252732013-04-15T11:10:00.004-05:002013-04-15T11:10:57.645-05:00Youth...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>Youth is not a time of life—it is a state of mind; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>it is a temper of the will, a quality of the
imagination, a vigor of the emotions, a predominance of courage over timidity….<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years;
people grow old only by deserting their ideals.
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>Years wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm
wrinkles the soul. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair—these
are long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to
dust.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>Whether 70 or 16, there is in every being’s heart the
unfailing childlike appetite for…the joy of the game of life. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear;
<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>as young as your hope; <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>as old as your despair. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><i>So long as your heart receives messages of beauty,
cheer, courage, grandeur and power from the earth, from man and from the Infinite,
so long are you young.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">-copied-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-4041423335418783782013-02-27T13:54:00.002-06:002022-09-10T15:26:45.557-05:00Living Well…Writing Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i>The decisions we make today will define the stories that get told about us… we are all writing a story with our lives.</i> ~ Josh Becker<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
That’s a sobering thought. And, I might add, it’s a thought we should have from time to time…just to remind us that we do not live unto ourselves, that people around us are watching us and listening to us. They tell our story and will tell our story, whether we want them to or not.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxw5cnsTR6pxwN9l5YrE7U6uEqTF7ia3NwYoAL4nF0j8h0zDuh5gjkuM7Lh-S1GELZDLPJK4y9-Vamh4YznjXUM_zQ5BE6FLAL0TPq1JPQjhfNABeGTDTblo-8a3daOf6k8B5SQQACDQg/s1600/stories.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxw5cnsTR6pxwN9l5YrE7U6uEqTF7ia3NwYoAL4nF0j8h0zDuh5gjkuM7Lh-S1GELZDLPJK4y9-Vamh4YznjXUM_zQ5BE6FLAL0TPq1JPQjhfNABeGTDTblo-8a3daOf6k8B5SQQACDQg/s320/stories.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Near our home in Lance aux Epines, Grenada, when I was growing up, two old women lived together in a small house. We really never knew them. In fact, we couldn't get to know them because every time we got close to their home, they would come out and threaten us—“Get away from here or we’ll call the police!” We didn't even have malicious intentions…well, not in the beginning anyway. They continued to over-react and threaten us for seemingly no reasons at all. So, we began to push back. And, then Halloween came around. Of course, we had to trick-or-treat at <i>every</i> house around us, so not even the old ladies would be spared. They were given the wonderful opportunity of gifting us with candies…but, again, “Get out of here!” So, we rained down rocks on their roof…and in Grenada at that time, roofs were all corrugated tin…and the sound of raining stones was quite deafening for them, I’m sure. They called the police…but, really—it took them an hour to arrive, and we were long gone. <br />
<br />
The point of the brief vignette is this—the story we have about the old ladies is a story of rejection, rudeness, and retribution. How different might that story have been if the old ladies had taken time to tell one of us about a desire for quiet and solitude, if they had engaged us just briefly to tell us that they were in fact ‘old’ and just wanted to be left alone? Their decisions and actions indeed determined their story. (Oh, I cannot in any way justify the silly, childish response on our part, so I won’t even try! Now, that foolishness is part of my story….)<br />
<br />
Dr. Sarah Wingard was a person to be feared above all others in our college English department. Yet, she was perhaps the least imposing person physically. Where her slight 5’ frame and arthritis twisted hands might have revealed weakness, an amazingly intimidating persona with a withering look made her seem larger than life. She was not an amazing lecturer, per se…but somehow she captured our minds and carried us with her through centuries of literature, introducing us to hundreds of unforgettable characters. While the average person on our campus would know well the reputation of this lady, a few of us had and have a different take on Dr. Wingard. She was a person who cared about her students, but one wouldn't find that out until one needed care.<br />
<br />
I had been wrestling with some depression, issues of personal identity, and some soggy winter weather—all three of which conspired to keep me snuzzled in my bed for a day or two…or three. Then, the knock came at the door late one morning. “Hey, Jon. Dr. Wingard wants you at her office today at 2pm.” That was all it took. She sent word to me to be at her office? Yikes! I knew I was in for now. I had skipped her class twice in a row. With fear and trepidation, and with a pocket full of well-crafted excuses and explanations, I went to her office door. I rapped softly and heard that voice, “Come in.” I went in. She sat. “Sit down, Jon.” So I sat. “What’s going on, Jon—you've missed two classes, and you’re going to get so far behind you won’t be able to catch up. You’re too smart and too good a student to let that happen. What’s going on?” All of my pretense fell away, my excuses went out the window…and I just told her about my depression and struggles. She gently reminded me of the poets we had studied, of their struggles…and pointed me back to the same literature we had studied in class. “There, in those words, you will find words that will lift you and carry you and inspire you.” And, she was right. To this day, the words of Wordsworth and Blake and Shelley DO move me and carry me. And, because of her compassion, to this day, I remember Dr. Wingard not only as a ‘formidable’ professor, but as a person who cared enough to call me out of my pit and point me towards the light….<br />
<br />
So, our decisions and our actions do pen our stories. When we reach out to others, when we engage, when we act out of good intentions, we write stories that others will eagerly tell with joy. When we refuse to engage or when we engage negatively, we write stories that others will tell as well…stories of warning and how not to be. Therefore, I determine anew and afresh to act in ways that write a good story…on the outside chance that someday, somewhere, someone will tell others stories of Jon. May they be good stories….<br />
<div>
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<i>~Jon~</i></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-38423055407603523852013-02-24T14:11:00.001-06:002013-02-24T14:11:56.547-06:00Finding Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For me, it’s a well-worn theme related to the great
“who-am-I?” quest. Where is home? What serves at that anchor for me when I need
to know that I have a past? The older I
get, the more important it is to me to have a place called home. And, while there have been shifts and so
forth through the years, “home” really has not ever changed for me. </div>
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Some of you will have read my various “Third Culture Kid” (<a href="http://herrin-horizon.blogspot.com/2011/03/pt1-im-adult-tckand-my-kids-are-tcks.html" target="_blank">Pt.1</a> , <a href="http://herrin-horizon.blogspot.com/2011/04/pt2im-tckand-my-kids-are-too.html" target="_blank">Pt.2</a> , <a href="http://herrin-horizon.blogspot.com/2011/04/pt25im-tckand-my-kids-are-too.html" target="_blank">Pt.2.5</a>)entries in the past—the story of my moving and traveling around as a
child/teenager…and the sense of homeless that has often accompanied that. Even with all the travels and culture
‘basket-turn-over,’ the real place that is home for me is <b><a href="http://www.grenadagrenadines.com/" target="_blank">Grenada</a></b> in the southern Caribbean.
I lived seven years of my life there (1975-1982). You may be thinking, “Just seven
years??” Well, consider this: Seven years in Grenada is almost twice as
long as I have lived anywhere else…ever!
Add to that the fact that I spent the most formative years of my life
(besides my years in higher education)—we arrived in Grenada when I was
entering Standard 5 (5<sup>th</sup> Grade)…and we left after I finished my
‘O-Levels’ (now known as CXC Exams). So,
of all the places I’ve lived, Grenada earns and deserves the distinction of
being “home” for me.</div>
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I recall arriving in Grenada in 1975. We first rented a small house in Lance aux
Epines (say ‘lance a’ peens’) across the road from where Probie, Rachel and
Gracie lived. We played with them every
day. I remember sitting in the shop at
Probie’s house, watching his father repair lawn-mowers… ‘playing’ with all the
cool stuff down there…and learning a bit about how small motors worked and how
to work on them. The Evans boys were
around as well… ‘Mango’ and his brother (sorry, memory fails!). We would sometimes play with the boy up the
road whose father was head of Barclay’s Bank?
I just remember a huge house with an open courtyard in the center. Past that house is where Clancy lived—the
millionaire thief who had escaped to Grenada.</div>
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Within a few months, my parents had found a more permanent
place for us, and we moved into the Cooke-Yarborough House. It wasn’t far from where we had been living,
so we stayed in touch with our first friends, but we also made new friends as
well. There was Gregor across the
street, a boy from Switzerland who was my age, whose father worked with one of
the banks. And, there were the “terrible
twins” who I found myself playing with often (in fact, we got caught stealing
cigarettes from the Mini-Mart across from The Red Crab at one time…!) Gillian and Trevor lived ‘below’ our
house…down the hill, and we ‘enjoyed’ a love-hate relationship, one day playing
together, and the next day landing stones on each others’ homes! And, of course, our immediate
neighbors—Andrew, Natalie and Alison—became some of our best friends. </div>
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Peter lived not too far away, and he would
end up over at Andrew’s or they’d all end up in our garage throwing darts, making
black coral jewelry, playing table tennis,…or we’d head down to the beach below
our house to go snorkeling/spear-fishing, or push the ‘raft’ up and down the
coasts of that then-deserted bay.</div>
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At school, there were another set of friends. Harold, Anthea, Phillip, Eunice, Samuel, Ronnie,
Kennrick, Bobby, Gordon, Audrey, Gillian, Sharleen—we all hung out
together. Most of us were in the school
band together. Bobby and I just sort of
fell in together out of similar interests and a streak of rebellion (ha!) In fact, most of the other students called Bobby
and me ‘co-pilots’…because they rarely saw one of us without the other. Most of my “home” friends went to either
Westmoreland Secondary School or Presentation Brothers College. So, my home friends and school friends were not
the same. That made things a little
complex, but it ended up working out fine—all things considered. Anyway, my days at Berean Christian Academy
are fondly remembered. In fact, I still
think that the preparation I received there really got me ready for university
in the US. </div>
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My father, “Pastor Herrin”, was the founding missionary of
the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Grenada-Baptist-Association/334718501300" target="_blank">Grenada Baptist Churches</a> on the island.
So, every Sunday morning and every Thursday evening, we were in
church…and I had my friends there as well.
The “inner circle” included Terrance, Louise and me. The three of us would hang out…go to the
beach…sit on the back row during service and pass notes…just ‘lime’
together. We were really close…. There were also Aaron, Hensley, Gladys, and
others who were a wonderful part of my life in the church.</div>
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In 1978, a big change came along—the organization my parents
worked for bought us a house. Still in
Lance aux Epines, but now it was across on the south side right across from the
entrance to the Boat Yard. There, we
soon made friends with Frances at the end of our road…with Karen up on the
hill—where one of my early good friends, Richard (Richie), had lived. No longer within easy walking distance of my
old friends, I began to spend a lot of time on the beach. Also, I now had ‘wheels’ (my moto), so my
friends went beyond walking distance. </div>
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Oh, I didn’t abandon my friends on the other side…but I didn’t see them
as often.</div>
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Somewhere along the way, I befriend George and Fu-Fu who
lived in St. Georges…whose family ran businesses in the city. I would meet them on Grand Anse beach…go up
to their home for smashing table-tennis competitions…and enjoy the amazing
Middle Eastern foods that came out of their kitchen! We planned parties…one of which actually came
to fruition—a small dance that included Virginia and Negar and others…. Virginia and her sister, Claudia, also became
good friends.</div>
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A fellow who graduated from my school and some new students
there had motorcycles, so I would cruise the area with Vishnu and the Lawrence
boys from time to time, trading motos and racing around.</div>
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Yes, my life in Grenada was an amazing life, and I’ve
managed to mention the names of many people who impacted my life in wonderful
ways. Many of these people are still friends today
with whom I exchange notes and comments on Facebook: Natalie, Alison, Rachel, Negar, Virginia,
Claudia, Louise, Eunice, Shar, Gordon, Peter, Nigel (one of the ‘terrible
twins’ who turned out to be a fairly nice guy! ha, ha…), Fu-Fu, Gillian,
Anthea, Aaron, Hensley…and others (who I hope are not offended for not having
been mentioned or included—time and space limit me from a full ‘roll-call.’)</div>
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In 1982, my parents moved us to the US—a strange and foreign
land to me. Since I had finished high
school young in Grenada, I did another two years of high school in the US so I
would be the same age as others entering university. From those two years of school in the US, I
have one—yes, ONE (1)—friend with whom I am still in touch. From the university, I have less than five
friends with whom I’m in touch. After
three years in Venezuela, perhaps a dozen people with whom I communicate. Three more years in Mexico results in maybe
15-20 lasting friendships. </div>
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When I look at my Facebook, I have 96!! friends from or associated
with Grenada…people I have met and known and shared my life with over the last
40 years. Some of those are friends of
friends that I’ve gotten know more recently, but I almost 70 of those are
people that I knew from my early years.</div>
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So, yes…Grenada is home for me. I am connected to the people…my best memories
are there…and, I might add, my dreams are there. People often ask or consider the question,
“If money were no object, what would you do?”
For me, I don’t even have to think about it—I’d move to Grenada. Oh, I’d want to remain a teacher,
educator…but I’d rather be doing it in Grenada, giving back to the land and the
people who gave me so much, who made me who I am today. Yes, ah dey, mon!</div>
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Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-29253698030242422312013-02-17T08:48:00.001-06:002013-02-17T08:48:26.116-06:00What We Do & Who We Are<p>In a perfect world, what we do and who we are fall into a beautiful alignment. Even in our imperfect world, there are those who find this alignment…some for a season and a few for a lifetime. <p>My job title is “Institutional Effectiveness & Assessment Analyst.” Seeing my title, you might actually think that I am an analyst. But, you’d be mistaken. You see, in my heart, I am a teacher, an educator. A set of circumstances in the last year moved me into this position, but I’ll save that for another time. Suffice to say, what I do is not in line with who I really am. I don’t love that, but it is what it is. <p>However, in my position as an analyst, I do have the freedom to teach a course each semester at our college. The Office of Institutional Effectiveness & Assessment ‘owns’ me for eight hours a day, but before or after those eight hours, I am free to do as I wish. And, thanks to a wonderful English department chair and a constant need for adjunct instructors, I get to teach an evening course each semester. <p>Now, I could have taken an attitude of “all or nothing”—<i>I want to be a teacher, or I want nothing to do with it.</i> But if I did that, I would miss out on knowing the 18 wonderful students I have this semester, students whose lives I’m entering, with whom I’m sharing my life. I’m teaching them writing…and—hopefully!—a whole lot more. Since I need to work to support my family, I’ll take the analyst job and make the very best of it; since my soul burns to teach and be with students, I’ll take whatever teaching opportunity—large or small—that comes my way. <p>I have a feeling that this same disjunction happens in the life of faith. What we do and who we are spiritually often doesn’t line up either. So many followers of Jesus want to spend their lives in service to God…but there’s work at banks, firms, restaurants, etc. Many, I’m sure, would enjoy spending day after day losing themselves in Scripture, song, or prayer…would prefer to be far away in a distant land sharing the faith through friendships…would rather be constructing a house of worship or training young Christian leaders. But, what they do and who they are just don’t line up. <p>What to do? The same thing I do—take every opportunity large and small that comes along to live that life of faith. If there is a mission trip, jump on it! If there is a project in the community, latch onto it. If there is a chance to spend 20 minutes in Scripture, song, or prayer, enjoy those 20 minutes. If there is a short-term trip to a distant land, save your money and take the trip. If there is a mission team going to build a church or going to help train and encourage new Christian leaders, go for it! Don’t “wait for retirement.” And for goodness sakes, don’t take an attitude of “all or nothing.” <p>Yes, I wish that my work and my passion were better aligned, but they’re not…for now. Just another reminder that we live in a ‘broken world.’ But, I don’t have to let that ‘brokenness’ break me. I will do the work I have to do in order to be the provider I must be as a husband and father. But, I will also keep my eye on the dream…I’ll keep the passion alive…and work in that direction. And, every time I get a chance to take a step towards my true self, my passion, my faith, I’ll take it…and enjoy it…and make it count. We aren’t <b>what we do</b>—we are <b>who we are</b>…with the call and passions that God has placed in us.</p> Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-23033229886426393892013-01-29T14:38:00.003-06:002013-01-29T14:38:42.740-06:00Ever Changing…Yet Unchanging<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Yes, there is something rather contradictory about such a title,
but I have come to find this seeming paradox quite true. In our culture at large, we come to value the
unchanging, the steady, the constant. I
have heard someone say of another, “Oh, Mr. So-in-So…he is as steady as they
come; you count on him like you can the sunrise.” That’s a pretty high complement…one I've often wished to overhear being said about me…but probably never will. That’s because I’m not in the ‘steady’ or ‘constant’
crowd. I’m more likely to hear something
like, “Oh, Jon…there he goes again…so fickle...chasing another dream….”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am a human…alive...and that means change. Yet, in the midst of change, there ARE some
constants. For example, one unchanging
aspect of my life is the love I have for my wife. But, how I EXPRESS that love is ever
changing. At times, this love is
expressed in a very physical way, through a closeness that I experience with no
one else in this world. At other times,
this love is expressed through a glance, a quick look filled with meaning and
depth that brings a subtle smile. We
have “off” days, bad days. On those
days, my love for her may be expressed by silence…by saying nothing…by taking
three hours at the local library or coffee shop to give her (or me) needed
space. Yet, underneath the surface of
multifaceted expression, the love remains…unchanging. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Another unchanging aspect of my life is my faith in
God. As with my love for my wife, my
faith in God is expressed in many different ways. On Sunday mornings, I gather with ‘Jesus
people’ in a large group where I sing loudly and passionately…where I sway a
bit to the music…where I join in group study and reflection on the Christian
Scriptures. During the week, I don’t do those
things too much. (I think my office
mates are glad I don’t. I believe if I
did that, I’d probably be fired.) So, my
faith—though unchanging—will be lived out and expressed in different ways
depending on the situation, the context.
Some days I identify with the 1<sup>st</sup> Century Christians as I
read the letters of Paul to those early groups of ‘Jesus people.’ Some days, I identify with the Desert Fathers
of the 3<sup>rd</sup> Century…or with the Celtic Christians of the 6<sup>th</sup>
Century…with the Reformers of the 16<sup>th</sup> Century…then with the new ‘radicals’
of the 21<sup>st</sup> Century. At times
my faith has me focused on our Creator God…at times on God the Son…and at other
times on the Spirit of God. I’m all over
the place—in my expression, identifications, and foci. But, the underlying faith is unchanging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the tenets of the Christian faith is the unchanging
God, yet God is always changing. In
Scripture, we find God changing His mind, changing His plans—just read the
powerful, emotion-packed interchanges between God and Moses…or read through the
Psalms. Then, 2000 years ago, God changed—God
experienced something that He had never before experienced. The Creator became creation; God became human.
(Think of it this way: The man who makes
the oak rocking chairs somehow becomes one of those rocking chairs—that is
almost mind-blowing!) Yet, our God is unchanging
as well—forever Creator and Sustainer of all things; forever Author of love and
of our salvation; forever Emmanuel—God with us.
But, how God interacts with us may change and does change. How God reveals Himself to us may vary from
day to day, and certainly from culture to culture—He meets us through a song,
in a reading, in a sunset, in a stranger, in silence. So, WHO God is never changes. God is “the same yesterday, today and
forever.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And me? I’ll still
chase dreams. I’ll have my ups and
downs. But, below the multiple layers of
expression and the swirl of human emotions, yes—I find a solid, unchanging core…and
that unchanging aspect—I must believe—is directly related to my faith in and
the presence of the Unchanging One. I’m
ever changing…yet unchanging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-79527751291955472552013-01-28T15:12:00.000-06:002013-01-28T15:12:16.486-06:00Inside...Outside...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Inside my office...sitting, working...;</i><br />
<i> Outside...walking, standing, stretching, breathing deeply.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...clear, clean air goes unnoticed;</i><br />
<i> Outside...a hundred smells--some good, some bad, all noticed-- tickle my nose</i><br />
<i> with smells of life.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...walls of light grey, ceiling of white, carpet of faded, speckled purple;</i><br />
<i> Outside...my eyes feast on the palette of God's creation--colours of the rainbow in</i><br />
<i> a thousand hues.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...a steady 75 degrees;</i><br />
<i> Outside...cold mornings give way to warm afternoons which fade into cool evenings.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...seemingly unmoving air hums overhead incessantly, unchanging;</i><br />
<i> Outside...winds from off the Gulf rise and fall whispering in different tones as they pass through</i><br />
<i> leaves of live-oak...palm trees...the rubbery stuff of banana trees.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...four silent florescent tubes light my space;</i><br />
<i> Outside...the star at the center of our solar system licks my skin, sharing warmth and glow.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Inside...sitting, working...dying;</i><br />
<i> Outside, standing, playing, imagination running wild, far and free...I live.</i></div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-26899863158473314452013-01-07T11:42:00.001-06:002013-01-07T11:42:24.115-06:00What Am I Reading?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reading, reading, reading! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can't stop...won't stop--got to keep learning and keep the mind active. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My present intellectual diet:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The Next 100 Years: A Forecast of the 21st Century</i> - George
Friedman<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Brother Roger of Taize: Essential Writings</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Experiences in Translation </i>- Umberto Eco</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Under the Unpredictable Plant</i> - Eugene Peterson</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope that you are reading also. If you've found a really good book, share the
title with us in the comments below.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hoping you all are off to a good New Year!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
~Jon~<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-2933774042876405552013-01-01T17:29:00.001-06:002013-01-01T17:29:46.154-06:00Happy New Year!<p>Happy New Year to all! I hope that you are as happy to see this year beginning as I am. 2012 was a pretty good year…but this year will be even better!</p> <p>I wish you and yours the very best in the days, weeks, and months to come. May we live well, live to the full, and live lives that impact others.</p> <p>More to come…!</p> Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-73229988448524309142012-10-27T13:13:00.000-05:002014-03-06T08:28:09.198-06:00Smart Phones - Not So Smart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Technology and innovation seem like
positive if not innocuous words. By advances in these areas, we've
seen illnesses cured, wars thwarted, and standards of living rise.
Yet, we've also seen entire cultures become 'couch-potatoes,' a rise
in cancer and nutrition related diseases. For all of the so-called
“labor-saving devices” that have been developed, we now see a
host of health issues that arise in our increasingly sedentary
life-styles—obesity, prostate cancer, heart disease, etc. What
looked good in the beginning has turned out to be a growing threat to
our very lives.</div>
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The “Smart Phone” will be numbered
among those great technological innovations that seemed like a good
idea at the time. These phones seem helpful enough, but peel back
the layers, and we find a device that should worry any thinking,
smart person!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCCe1zPF5MODP-0qCinieeBHq9bRKmzDOFa-fRmXhF2AgwZJU80Oj8XJS6qXwstPf-SXnOrYWNQLsbFFIbYohWLbgBn5kKeifleejDwNyH_v6eeY-OWyD7QYXwthJmYCR2X6XN4JVSv0/s1600/phoneimages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCCe1zPF5MODP-0qCinieeBHq9bRKmzDOFa-fRmXhF2AgwZJU80Oj8XJS6qXwstPf-SXnOrYWNQLsbFFIbYohWLbgBn5kKeifleejDwNyH_v6eeY-OWyD7QYXwthJmYCR2X6XN4JVSv0/s1600/phoneimages.jpg" /></a></div>
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The “smart phone” is making us
dumber. Rather than actually having to know or remember things
anymore, we can rely on our smart phones to do that for us. That
would be fine...except the brain in a muscle, and if a muscle is not
used, it atrophies. The smart phone may become a leading contributor to
both Alzheimer's and dementia in the years to come. People no longer
need to remember who was president in 1979—they can Google it on
their smart phone. One no longer needs to remember or recall any
phone numbers—they're all right at one's finger-tips on the smart
phone. Information, hard knowledge, numbers...the smart phones do
all of that for us, so our brains can remain unused, untrained. More
and more, I see my students relying on their smart phones for what
was once basic information. If the evolution scientists are correct
in their assumptions and investigations, we should see the human
brain begin shrinking in the years to come if folks persist in using
smart phones....</div>
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Besides the effects on our brains,
these smart phones are impacting our social interactions as well.
Recently, I sat in a restaurant around the lunch hour and I just
glanced around at the couples and groups of folks in the place. A
few people were engaged in lively discussion...and this seemed to
irritate some of the other patrons...who were trying to enjoy their
smart phones. I saw a mother and father both on their smart phones
while their son vied vainly for their attention. I saw three men
sitting together, each in his own world on his smart phone. More and
more, I find people in public places who have no social intercourse
because they are busy gazing into the dead eyes of their smart
phones. We no long have to ask anyone directions—we just look it
up on our smart phones. We no longer have to ask what the special of
the day is at the restaurant—it's already on the smart phone. Our
flesh-and-blood social lives are being reduced and erased by smart
phones. The world—increasingly connected by smart phone—becomes
a more and more lonely place.</div>
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And, something to touch the heart of
every true American, there is the issue of cost. Is it really smart
to pay an average of $1700 a year for a smart phone (The <a href="http://claycounty.myfoxal.com/news/shopping-services/112485-real-cost-owning-smartphone">Wall StreetJournal</a>)??? Is that cost really worth it?? In my home, our FIVE
family members pay around $2000 a year for FIVE phones that allow us
to talk and text as necessary...plus we get to exercise our brains
and interact socially!! That is a deal!! So why are so many people
spending all that money for email, internet and apps in the palm of
their hands?? Primarily, we're seeing the amazing success of
advertising that has convinced us 1) that we really cannot live
without a smart phone or 2) we will be perceived as cretins or
ignorant barbarians if we don't have this device. (The smart phone
is not a replacement for the computer—desktop or laptop...to be
addressed in an upcoming piece.) And, the industry has named these
devices 'smart phones'...indicating that one who purchases the device
is smart, but really the phone and their makers are the smart (and
opportunistic) ones who are robbing the culture of money, social
richness and brain power.
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In the months and years to come, I
believe we are going to see a revolution. The truly smart, thinking
people—the radicals, the bohemians, the artists, the theologians,
the revolutionaries, the philosophers—are going to rebel and either
refuse to take up smart phones or cast them aside. Consciously,
purposefully rejecting 'smart phones' (and calling on others to do
the same) will become a statement of social consciousness and
awareness, intellectual value and growth, and a way to stand against
rampant, unchecked, dehumanizing forms of technological 'progress'
and capital gain. </div>
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To be 'disconnected' and knowledgeable; to be social adroit and truly technologically savvy; to invest wisely in appropriate innovations--these will be the trend-setters and standard-bearers of the new future.</div>
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Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-492718249938381892012-09-30T12:55:00.000-05:002012-09-30T12:55:05.525-05:00Some Thoughts on Living...Back in April 2009, I was enjoying my morning walk around "la cancha de futbol" near our home in Santa Catarina, and the following thoughts began to come to me. I had been thinking about how to avoid the mis-steps and stumbles of days, weeks, months and years past. As I contemplated why I had made mistakes in the past, what I had been thinking...and NOT thinking, these 'guiding points' began to come to me. While I've not been entirely faithful to them, I do return to them again and again...and when I have been faithful, I have been able to avoid a lot of pain, wasted energy, emotional/spiritual 'skinned knees'...and I've been able to make good decisions with positive results--even though others knew nothing of it. Here goes:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>A life of love is the most important thing</li>
<li>Live today - in today, for today</li>
<li>Do not make quick decisions</li>
<li>Only act rashly in love (agape)</li>
<li>Take a walk...and talk with the Lord</li>
<li>Big plans often grow from big egos</li>
<li>An idea to be flouted is probably an idea to be avoided</li>
<li>Strive for simplicity - of form, of action, of thought</li>
<li>God works through the small, everyday, ordinary</li>
<li>Live with levity - don't take it all too seriously</li>
</ul>
<br />
Perhaps someone else on the road of life can use these to help life slow down and to make better decisions....<br />
<br />
~Jon~<br />
September 2012 Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-45913589398434652162012-08-27T15:51:00.001-05:002012-08-27T15:51:22.247-05:00Some Thoughts on the Church - Carretto<br />
<i>I found this modern "desert father" about seven or eight years ago. He just keeps on pushing me to love and to understand and to grow. Enjoy! Jon</i><br />
<br />
“How baffling you are, oh Church, and yet how I love you! How you have made me suffer, and yet how much I owe you! I would like to see you destroyed, and yet I need your presence. You have given me so much scandal and yet you have made me understand what sanctity is. I have seen nothing in the world more devoted to obscurity, more compromised, more false, and yet I have touched nothing more pure, more generous, more beautiful. How often I have wanted to shut the doors of my soul in your face, and how often I have prayed to die in the safety of your arms.<br />
<br />
No, I cannot free myself from you, because I am you, though not completely. And besides, where would I go? Would I establish another? I would not be able to establish it without the same faults, for they are the same faults I carry in me. And if I did establish another, it would be my Church, not the Church of Christ. I am old enough to know that I am no better than anyone else. …)<br />
<br />
The Church has the power to make me holy but it is made up, from the first to the last, only of sinners. And what sinners! It has the omnipotent and invincible power to renew the Miracle of the Eucharist, but is made up of men who are stumbling in the dark, who fight every day against the temptation of losing their faith. It brings a message of pure transparency but it is incarnated in slime, such is the substance of the world. It speaks of the sweetness of its Master, of its non-violence, but there was a time in history when it sent out its armies to disembowel the infidels and torture the heretics. It proclaims the message of evangelical poverty, and yet it does nothing but look for money and alliances with the powerful.<br />
<br />
Those who dream of something different from this are wasting their time and have to rethink it all. And this proves that they do not understand humanity. Because this is humanity, made visible by the Church, with all its flaws and its invincible courage, with the Faith that Christ has given it and with the love that Christ showers on it.<br />
<br />
When I was young, I did not understand why Jesus chose Peter as his successor, the first Pope, even though he abandoned Him. Now I am no longer surprised and I understand that by founding his church on the tomb of a traitor(…)He was warning each of us to remain humble, by making us aware of our fragility. (…)<br />
<br />
And what are bricks worth anyway? What matters is the promise of Christ, what matters is the cement that unites the bricks, which is the Holy Spirit. Only the Holy Spirit is capable of building the church with such poorly moulded bricks as are we.<br />
<br />
And that is where the mystery lies. This mixture of good and bad, of greatness and misery, of holiness and sin that makes up the church…this in reality am I .(…)<br />
<br />
The deep bond between God and His Church, is an intimate part of each one of us. (…)To each of us God says, as he says to his Church, “And I will betroth you to me forever” (Hosea 2,21). But at the same time he reminds us of reality: 'Your lewdness is like rust. I have tried to remove it in vain. There is so much that not even a flame will take it away' (Ezechiel 24, 12).<br />
<br />
But then there is even something more beautiful. The Holy Spirit who is Love, sees us as holy, immaculate, beautiful under our guises of thieves and adulterers. (…) It’s as if evil cannot touch the deepest part of mankind.<br />
<br />
He re-establishes our virginity no matter how many times we have prostituted our bodies, spirits and hearts. In this, God is truly God, the only one who can ‘make everything new again’. It is not so important that He will renew heaven and earth. What is most important is that He will renew our hearts. This is Christ’s work. This is the divine Spirit of the Church.”<br />
― Carlo Carretto<br />
<br />
<i>Found: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/64433.Carlo_Carretto?auto_login_attempted=true">http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/64433.Carlo_Carretto?auto_login_attempted=true</a></i><br />
Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-10826578205870794842012-08-09T11:40:00.000-05:002019-10-16T20:41:21.881-05:00Yes, We Might Question Technology….<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Neil Postman was one of those
writers/educators that I ran into at the right time…at just the time I needed
some influencing. I didn’t run into him </span><span style="font-size: 14.5pt;">literally</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">; I ran into him literarily—I found his books: <i>Amusing
Ourselves to Death</i>, <i>Teaching as a Subversive Activity</i>, <i>The End of
Education</i>, and others. I was a young grad student at U of L…passionate to
be a good teacher, a life-changing teacher. Postman gave me a lot to think
about. I didn’t buy everything he was selling, but I bought enough to know that
he and I were kindred spirits in a way—we were going to question everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="Default">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">In March 1998, Postman
presented “Five Things We Need to Know About Technological Change” at a
conference in Colorado. I wasn’t there…but I was with him all the way. Even
though he penned and voiced these words some 14 years ago, we need to hear them
again. Below, I’ve pulled out his five main ideas, in his own words. At the
end, there is a link to the full text of his presentation…in case you want to
go deeper, in case you want to enjoy his delightful examples and anecdotes.
Here are the Five Things in Postman's own words: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">First,…all technological change
is a trade-off. I like to call it a Faustian bargain. Technology giveth and
technology taketh away. This means that for every advantage a new technology offers,
there is always a corresponding disadvantage. The disadvantage may exceed in
importance the advantage, or the advantage may well be worth the cost. …Idea
Number One, then, is that culture always pays a price for technology.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Default">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Second,…the advantages and
disadvantages of new technologies are never distributed evenly among the population.
This means that every new technology benefits some and harms others. There are
even some who are not affected at all. …That there are always winners and
losers in technological change is the second idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Third,…embedded in every
technology there is a powerful idea, sometimes two or three powerful ideas.
These ideas are often hidden from our view because they are of a somewhat
abstract nature. But this should not be taken to mean that they do not have
practical consequences. …The third idea, then, is that every technology has a
philosophy which is given expression in how the technology makes people use
their minds, in what it makes us do with our bodies, in how it codifies the
world, in which of our senses it amplifies, in which of our emotional and
intellectual tendencies it disregards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Fourth,…technological change is
not additive; it is ecological. I can explain this best by an analogy. What
happens if we place a drop of red dye into a beaker of clear water? Do we have
clear water plus a spot of red dye? Obviously not. We have a new coloration to
every molecule of water. That is what I mean by ecological change. A new medium
does not add something; it changes everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Fifth, …media tend to become
mythic. I use this word in the sense in which it was used by the French
literary critic, Roland Barthes. He used the word "myth" to refer to
a common tendency to think of our technological creations as if they were
God-given, as if they were a part of the natural order of things. …What I am
saying is that our enthusiasm for technology can turn into a form of idolatry
and our belief in its beneficence can be a false absolute. The best way to view
technology is as a strange intruder, to remember that technology is not part of
God’s plan but a product of human creativity and hubris, and that its capacity
for good or evil rests entirely on human awareness of what it does for us and
to us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">And Postman’s closing words: “Our
unspoken slogan has been "technology über alles," and we have been
willing to shape our lives to fit the requirements of technology, not the
requirements of culture. This is a form of stupidity, especially in an age of
vast technological change. We need to proceed with our eyes wide open so that
we many use technology rather than be used by it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I wonder about our world as we
rush forward with new technological advances without even thinking to ask,
“What will be the results?” “What could be some consequences?” It came home to
me just yesterday as I sat in a doctor’s office. In one corner, there were the
three children fighting over their mom’s smart phone. Then, there was the child
in her mother’s lap beside me was watching a show on the TV about the effect of
TV on children. The reporter on the tele was saying that children under age 12
should not have televisions in their bedrooms. The six-year-old girl looked up
at her mom and whispered, “She’s stupid…isn’t that dumb?” And they both just
smiled…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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(revised Oct. 16, 2019)</div>
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(For Postman’s entire
lecture, go to: <span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><a href="https://web.cs.ucdavis.edu/~rogaway/classes/188/materials/postman.pdf">https://web.cs.ucdavis.edu/~rogaway/classes/188/materials/postman.pdf</a></span>)<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-40760363708918750872012-08-08T16:49:00.000-05:002012-08-08T16:49:37.437-05:00Sweet Relief...<br />
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I’m reading Carlo Carretto again (<u>Letters from the Desert</u>),
an intimate work that follows Carretto’s feet and mind into the desert of North
Africa. <o:p></o:p></div>
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He had been very active in the Church for many years, and
quite suddenly he hears God call him to leave it all behind in his homeland of
Italy and follow God into the desert.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At one point towards the beginning of the book, he is
contemplating his earnest, dedicated labors and activity in the church back
home, his practice of running “continually from one project to another, from
one meeting to another, from one city to another”. While involved in all of that, he had been
operating on a worldview that went something like this: God created the world and then stepped aside
to rest; Christ founded the Church and then disappeared in to heaven to let the
Church save the world. Carretto says he
imagined that his frenzied life and work were somehow part of the column that
was holding everything up and everything together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>I drew back suddenly,
as though to fee myself from this weight.
What had happened? Everything
remained in its place, motionless. Not a
movement, not a sound. After twenty-five
years I had realized that nothing was burdening on my shoulders and that the
column was my own creation—sham, unreal, the product of my own imagination and
my vanity.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>I had walked, run,
spoken, organized, worked, in the belief that I was supporting something; and
in reality I had been holding up absolutely nothing.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>The weight of the world
was all on Christ Crucified. I was
nothing, absolutely nothing.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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What amazing relief…to know that it does not depend on
me. May I never again be suckered into
the “sham, unreal…product of my own imagination and vanity.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>(All quotations taken from:
Carretto, Carlos. “You are
Nothing.” <u>Letters from the Desert</u>.
Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002.)</i><o:p></o:p></div>Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-81068120726241840782012-07-27T13:27:00.003-05:002022-09-12T20:59:48.356-05:00How to Joyfully Survive an ‘Economic Down-Turn’ (or Recession, Depression, etc.)<br />
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This idea has been swirling around inside my mind for almost
two years, so I guess it’s time to put it on paper. Now, some will say, “Why’d wait TWO years if
you have the answer for us!?!?” I don’t
know. I guess I’m busy…and perhaps a bit
lazy…but more than anything, I really
wanted to turn my thoughts over and over in my mind to make sure I wasn’t
telling you something misleading or incorrect.
Two years later, I believe this is a big part of the answer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSXDCxumApBQ7Kf6_R5B_qGPalpSvBPeIFlhMPRc820nRAThK0FrA" />
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The secret to joyfully surviving a recession or to living it
through it basically unscathed is this: </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Decide to live beneath your means.</span><o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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Now, the first part of that statement is SUPER
important. You (and I) must make the
mental decision, must take that intellectual step. If it’s forced on us—which is what a
recession or depression may really do, then there is no joy in the living. We find ourselves bitter, jealous, on a
long-term ‘pity-pot’…if not in debt, homeless or worse. That is not living joyfully. That is nothing more than acquiescing to and
accepting the situation thrust upon us.
So, step one is to make a decision.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img src="http://mrtplus.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/decisionmaking.jpg" />
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And, that decision has to be this—we live beneath our
means. What does that mean? Well, let’s say I bring in $1000/month. Most Americans will spend all of that…and
charge a little more on the credit card.
That is living beyond ones means—spending more than one actually has or
earns. When we live like that, we are
always just one small step from a personal economic disaster! Others will budget in such a way that they
spend ONLY what they bring in…and not a penny more. They will pat themselves on the back…and believe
they are doing well. They are doing
BETTER than those who live beyond their means, but they are still going to get ‘smacked’
when the down-turn, recession, depression comes along.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Living beneath ones means is living on less that 100% of the
income.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In our family, we live on 80% of what we make. We’ve done that for over 20 years now…and we’ll
keep on doing that. My parents gave me
very sound financial advice when I was just a teenager. In fact, I can hear the mantra even now: “10%
to the future, 10% to God, and the rest with joy and thanksgiving.” So, that’s what we do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img height="137" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTojowy-60dqQwkmFxYSoqnZsxfcHN_hJgXzhfircJIcPwU0ia0" width="200" /> <img height="132" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQJzdeEws4OP61uX4eOezXk7pQT5Jh0Lgrf6FRGE3LnFrA9vVn5" style="background-color: white;" width="200" /></div>
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We put 10% of the income in our annuity—untouchable savings
for the future, for that day when retirement comes. Then, we give 10% to God—through the church,
to charities, to those in need, to good causes.
That leaves 80% of the income for us to spend with joy and
thanksgiving. Of that 80%, we decided to
take 10% of it and put in what we call our “holiday/house fund.” The holiday/house fund is just that—when we
take holiday or when we need to do something big to the house, we pull a little
cash out of that account (yes, it’s a separate account at the bank). Then, we live on what’s left. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, that does NOT mean that we spend every bit of what’s
left. In fact, we strive to make
spending a kind of game—how cheap can we eat out (this week, my wife, my son
and I had lunch at Chinese restaurant here in McAllen…and we all ate for
$9.48!! That’s the total bill…not per
person), how little can we spend on energy (thermostat set on 83F during the
day…clothes hung outside to dry), how can we eat cheaper at home (no red meat,
chicken once or twice a week, and lots of fruit and veggies…and this is cutting
our healthcare costs as well!), where can we get the best clothes for the least
(my wife and daughters bring home designer clothes from our local thrift store—usually
$3/item or less.) So, playing this ‘game’
is a way to make sure we live beneath our means…and STILL have some left over.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<img height="301" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTNn3OWoMYo-2StjASso2D9gdKRJq7feujyuLDla5HDoGieGP--7A" width="400" />
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We do have a budget, and we know how much we need each month
to pay the house payment, the utility bills, buy food, etc. So, when I get paid, we leave the necessary
amount in the checking account…and move any ‘left-overs’ to the holiday/house
fund! So, it grows…and we joyfully
survive the economic issues of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The catch: People
really need to arrive at this decision to live beneath their means long before
the bottom falls out. I guess this is
why I was reluctant to write and post this piece—it’s arriving a little
late. Or, it may be arriving right on
time. As people struggle to make ends
meet, maybe they are open to thinking in new directions. And, no time like the present to prepare for
an uncertain future!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why do we spend it all anyway?? Mainly, it’s nothing more than a result of successful
advertising. We taught our own children
when they were small that advertising is basically “people trying to sell you
stuff you don’t need.” Still, there is a
LOT of cultural pressure to ‘climb’ on up to the next step—bigger house, newer
car, bigger TV, latest “iThing.” We buy
used cars—always—and pay cash or only finance a fraction. We look for “quality” used cars on Consumer
Reports list. And, we drive fuel –efficient
Ford Focus (2008) and a Toyota Matrix (2005)…and I ride a Suzuki 250 motorcycle
to work (80+ mpg!!!) Our house that we
bought last year is 13 years old…and 1250 sq.ft. Our children are all hitting that age where
they’re home less…and leaving for college and life in the next few years. Besides, who wants to heat and cool and clean
a 3000 sq.ft. home?!? (More unnecessary
expenses!) We have cell-phones made for
talking and texting…and our computers surf the web just fine, thank you! My family bought me our first flat screen TV
two years ago for Fathers’ Day…and they researched and found the best for the
least. My 32” Samsung (only TV in the
house, by the way…intentionally!) will do us just fine for years to come. And, if not…there’s money in the bank!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><img height="133" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQqvYmEfliOayvEXEEXaJ0Shbeoi4TCONUrOQFc7lXqMvEBn5-Z" style="background-color: white;" width="200" /><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><img height="182" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTOryF_AdYBdmLHG6VG6PzRzU4Urk5Vv67y3aKdRJjWnwS28U9i" style="background-color: white;" width="200" /></div>
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So, this one ended up a little longer than usual…but wanted
to help you see that by intentionally living beneath your means, you can avoid many
of the stresses of economic crises…you will be better prepared for any future
crashes or bumps…and you can do so joyfully!
We laugh a lot at our cheap selves.
We explain why we live as we do to our children. And, when we go on holiday, we come home debt
free! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>Decide…to…live…beneath…your…means—while the decision is
yours to make!</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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Jon ~ July 2012</div>Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7118999969653870730.post-1019196187499374852012-07-22T20:10:00.001-05:002012-07-22T20:10:43.879-05:00To Live by the Sword…?<p>“Gun control” can be a very divisive topic. Just mention it in a group of 15 or more, and you’re likely to find passionate people of various perspectives. If someone says they favor gun control, most folks jump to the conclusion that one wants to make every kind of firearm illegal…and if someone says they are against gun control, folks imagine that one is fine if you want to park an M-40 tank in your drive and sell AK-47’s out of your trunk on weekends. Yes, the issue is usually one of extremes. <p>Opinions grow out of how one interprets or applies the second amendment of the US Constitution as found in the Bill of Rights. One problem is that there were at least two versions floated at the time the bill was ratified…Congress ratifying one version and States a slightly different one: <p><i>A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. (Congress)</i> <p><i>A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. (States)</i> <p>The difference is in the way the sentence is punctuated and how things are capitalized—small but perhaps significant differences. So, part of the problem grows out of how one interprets this amendment. <p>However, a deeper problem for those of us who profess the Christian faith begins our inadvertent tendency to confuse Constitution with Scripture. They are not one and the same (obviously). While the Constitution does and should guide our nation, the Scriptures should guide our personal lives if we claim to be Christians. <p>So, what does Scripture say about this issue? Well, Jesus speaks to it clearly in Matthew 26:32 where He says to his disciple, “…Put your sword back into its place; for all who take the sword will perish by the sword” (NRSV). If Peter had had a Glock or an AR-15, I think Jesus would say something similar. <p>Jesus and His 1<sup>st</sup> Century followers lived in a violent age. Some historians estimate that the average life-span of a male in the Roman Empire at this time was around 26 years. They weren’t all dying of head-colds and athlete’s foot—this was a dangerous and deadly time to live. When Jesus related the parable of the Good Samaritan, the people didn’t respond, “Oh my!! That’s terrible!! Someone beaten and robbed on the Jericho road?!?” They KNEW that this was a common, occurrence…something that happened all the time. And, of course, Jesus missed his great opportunity here—He could have said, “So, since these things happen, I want all my followers to arm themselves…get knives, swords and all kinds of things to keep you safe.” Nope, He really missed the chance to arm His followers. <p>In fact, when we look at the story of the early Church, we find that they are constantly abused, arrested, beaten, killed…and they don’t fight back. In the Old Testament, we see wars a plenty, but we are New Testament people and followers of Jesus—not followers of Joshua or David. It’s not until Emperor Constantine marries the church to the state (a ‘shotgun wedding,’ no less) that we find Christians arming and literally fighting for the faith. Nowhere in the NT do we find Paul fighting back, pulling swords and practicing any kind of ‘stand your ground.’ <p>Our US Constitution allows us as Americans to “bear arms” (I prefer to do so at the beach…by wearing a tank-top). Personally, I feel we may have been a little broad in our interpretation (Do I or my neighbors really need to be able to buy AR-15 assault rifles when there is not state of war in our land? Should anyone be able to purchase 6000 rounds of ammo on-line?) While I have ‘rights’ as a citizen of this land that I was born into by chance, as a conscientious, self-decided Christian I must decide--do I really want to “live by the sword”…and teach my children to do the same?</p> Wilderness Wonderingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01586339773351874646noreply@blogger.com0