Reading into life: Thinking as a worthy pursuit

Oftentimes I catch my oldest son, Stephen, staring off into space or romping around the house muttering to himself. "What'cha doing, Steve?" I'll ask, already knowing his answer: "I'm just thinking." My middle son, Rockam, eventually does everything his big brother does. I was still surprised when he recently shot back that same line to me when I asked him whether he felt alright. He had appeared to be moping on the couch for half an hour.

My thoughtful sons got me thinking. Is "just thinking" a valid way to while away twenty minutes or even an entire afternoon?

Channeling my inner indignant Martha

This blog has always been about the books I read, but I've long felt that I'd like to include musings on The Book I read the most. With New Year's resolutions fresh on my mind, one of my goals this year is using my time and energies wisely. Probably the poster child for misappropriating her efforts, Martha is often cast as the villain and Mary the protagonist in Luke 10:38-42. Given the choice, I prefer time listening to and gazing at Jesus to scrambling and hustling for Jesus, but I had to ask myself what I really choose most moments of every mundane day. I also tried to put myself into the story and ask what would the Mary and Martha story be like if everyone did the "right" thing?

Is there a way the story could have happened where neither sister missed out and nobody goes hungry?  Perhaps Martha cooks simply or announces that tonight's meal is a potluck? Where ever Jesus was, there were big crowds following. Perhaps they limit the number of house guests? But even if it was only Jesus and his twelve disciples, that's still a hefty dinner party. Perhaps, if Martha feels so bold as to confront Jesus, she could have requested he come and sit in the kitchen with she and Mary while they both prepared food and listened? Not exactly at his feet, but still intimate.

Maybe Martha could cook (again, a simple meal) and Mary could do all the dishes and clean up so Martha could recline at table afterward?

Perhaps Mary and Martha should have more open lines of communication between each other. That fact that Martha resorts to shaming her in front of Jesus and everyone else shows that they didn't discuss the big event before it was upon them. Though, maybe Jesus's arrival was a bit of a surprise.

Of course, everyone wants to be the Mary of the story. But she's not exactly blameless. Still, Jesus doesn't blame her. He diagnoses Martha as "worried and distracted by many things." Yet, it's hard not to be concerned when your guest list is out the door and there's too few cooks in the kitchen. Would it have been righteous to serve dinner late or not at all?

Or is it OK to ask Jesus to perform miracles that don't need to be performed like "Please feed this full house without me having to slave alone in the hot kitchen even though I could do it and have always done it?" Feeding the 5,000 + women and children with a fish sandwich is a worthy request, but what about "God, can you please make my life simpler so I can have the energy to obey you? So I have time to pursue my dream of writing children's books for 30 minutes a day? So I can spend time in trying out new prayer exercises each morning?

Even as I write, I'm very near to all my own worries and distractions. I don't want to lash out at others who don't exhibit the same vulnerability to these pressures as I do. But I also don't know how to manage my practical responsibilities (real or perceived) without forfeiting "the one thing," the "better part."

How do I choose that better part. Is it my turn to choose it? I want to be a Mary- shedding gender roles and other's expectations to just bask in the creative glow of communion with my Jesus. If Martha was indignant, "Lord, do you not care?" --what must the disciples thought about little Mary auditing their class with the Master? But then how will we eat? How will I obey in all the little things, some of which happen to be feeding three little mouths and two big ones?



Is the answer merely in better communication between myself as a Martha-type and whoever happens to be my Mary-counterpart? Cuz, honestly, as this little drama unfolds in my head, it's not Martha, Mary and Jesus. It's me, my better half and "free" time. No. Let's call it quality "me" time.

Yikes. Does that mean I long for "me" more than Jesus? I'm gonna give myself the benefit of the doubt here, seeing as at the moment, "me" time is actually time interacting, trying to interact with Jesus. And that refocuses me. I pray He'd teach me to choose the better part when its mine for the choosing. There must be a choice, right? There must be points at which I can choose one part or the other. But if it's a part of the whole, does that automatically mean someone's gotta take the worse part? Is it really a closed system, a limited economy? Does one get Jesus and the other suffers? One's rich and the other's poor. I don't think that's the God in whom I believe.

It circles be back to the idea of sharing responsibilities and benefits.

And Jesus, what did you mean when you said that "better part" would "not be taken away from her"? Is it simply that you refused to shame Mary as her big sister was? Or, ever the double entendre wielding prophet, where You saying that the "part" or choice and path Mary took was life-imparting, so that some element of the divine was being inwrought in a way that couldn't be taken from her, just as we can never be separated from God's love?

Now back to Martha. The story makes me think Martha is the oldest. I see Lazarus and Mary as the younger siblings because when Jesus arrives on the doorstep of his favorite place in Bethany, "Martha welcomed into her home." She might not have been the breadwinner, but she certainly seems to be the matriarch of the house. She wasn't even really concerned that she was missing out on Jesus. She was upset because she wanted to lavish this huge feast on Him and everyone watching. She was probably a gifted hostess. But she needed to really outdo herself, and that involved more than herself. I'm sure I've felt this so many times. She's so at home with her self pity. She was upset because Mary was, in her mind, supposed to be more interested in food prep than gobbling up God's word.

Jesus gave Martha a personalized "word of wisdom" when she confronted both Jesus (for lack of concern over her plight) and Mary (for lazing around with the the men). As an aside, despite all her apparent social bumbling in this story, I have to admire the level of intimacy Martha has with Jesus. You have to be close to chide the Messiah. "Martha, Martha!" He calls her by name, as if to shake her out of an obsession, "You are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing."

So. What is the "one thing"? Is it the same as Mary's "better part"? Is one thing simply to still oneself and sit and listen to what Jesus is saying? I don't have certain answers. Just more questions. What would have happened if nobody cooked? What would Jesus have said or done? Would both sisters have a part of the better part? Would Jesus have whipped up a miracle meal or have directed his disciples to procure one from a mysterious source? What are your thoughts on this story, and how do you apply Jesus's words to Martha?

Reading into life: Go easy

I mentioned in a previous post that I was working my way through Teresa Blythe's 50 Ways to Pray. One of the methods Blythe guides readers through is called Luther's Four-Stranded Garland, a form of lectio divina, or prayerful reading. I gave it a go with Ecclesiastes 12:11-14 from The Message:

"The words of the wise prod us to live well. They're like nails hammered home, holding life together. They are given by God, the one shepherd. But regarding anything beyond this, dear friend, go easy. There's no end to the publishing of books, and constant study wears you out so you're no good for anything else. The last and final word is this: Fear God. Do what he tells you. And that's it. Eventually God will bring everything that we do out into the open and judge it according to its hidden intent, whether it's good or evil." (italics mine)

Because my bedside reading often takes the form of the Leaning Tower of Piza, I felt God was talking directly to me in these verses. Blythe explained that Luther's Four-Stranded Garland involves an initial time of silence, then a slow, deliberate reading of the verses, hunting for a word, phrase or image that sparks something in the reader.  I usually have a hard time selecting just one "word, phrase, or image" because I'm most often intrigued by the juxtaposition of contrasting ideas, with which the Bible is replete. So my "phrase" was actually three phrases: Go easy.... Fear God. Do what he tells you. 

Now, onto Luther's garland, (which seems just about the most random mnemonic device ever):

For the first strand, Blythe tells readers to consider what lesson God is teaching them in the passage. That was the easy part. I love books and have a huge To Read list. And, as the verses state, there's no end to the steady stream of books being published. But if I'm just reading to get through a book or to be able to post on the blog, and I'm not giving myself the time and presence of mind to really hear God in the words of the wise, I'll wear myself out. Besides, the wise writer of Ecclesiastes gives me the Cliff Notes to all the wisdom I could ever read: "Fear God. Do what he tells you." I need to go easy by fearing God and hearing God. And doing what he tells me. It's a given God is telling me something, and that something requires action.

The second strand, Blythe writes, is to focus on giving thanksgiving to God. I'm so grateful for the access I have to so many wise writers (and a few daft ones). Living in this age and this country where books are plentiful is something I'm truly thankful for. And I'm thankful that the source of all true wisdom is the one good Shepherd. I can find God's gentle, leading voice in the books of the Bible as well as literature, poetry, biographies and other non-fiction. He's the source of every wise word. 

The third strand is confession. Blythe recommends admitting sins and shortcomings. For me, I often get sucked into what I'm reading or pursuing in a way that causes me to neglect my three children and the dishes in the sink-- a pile that rivals the tower of books on my nightstand! To make matters worse, I often bask in my personal inspiration and enlightenment without following through. Without fearing God. Without hearing. Without doing. It might seem I'm taking the easy way out, but actually this is the hard way to live because I was made to fear, hear and do. What Brene Brown calls the "cognitive dissonance" of falling short of one's calling makes going through life hard. Lord Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner who too often takes the difficult road of not fearing, hearing and doing!

The final strand, writes Blythe, is to find guidance in the passage. As you might have surmised, God showed me that I don't focus on fearing him and hearing him and doing what he tells me. But, oh, how I want to. This is what a Christian was made to do. I want to discern his heart in all that I read or hear-- wise words or simple nudges. After my time of prayer, I spent some time listening. Sure enough, He had some things to say! To make sure I was really listening, I made a short list of things I felt God was reminding me to do. I'm not proud to tell you that some were things that he asked me to do days or even weeks ago. Near my list, I wrote "Consider each task sacred." I paused for what was probably 30 seconds of contemplative silence ... I'm still working on this feature of lectio divina. Then I got going on "going easy." And let me just gush for a moment: obeying God makes my heart easy! His burden really is light in that it makes me feel light and buoyant when I do what he tells me to do. 

Reading into my life: Productive Praise

I learned something the other day, after reflecting on a visit to my neighbor's house, mingled with some of the wise words from books I've read in the last year or two.

My middle son, Mercy Child, needs praise and affection to flourish, and I don't naturally give it to him in an unmeasured, non-manipulative way. I'll just be honest here; often my praise has strings attached. I limit my kind speech to sing-songy praise when he does what I want him to do and expressly for the purpose of getting him to do it again. Like taking his foot off of his baby brother's face. And getting his fingers out of his nose/mouth/rear end. I can really feign enthusiastic praise when he obeys these directives. "Good Joooob, Babe! You did a great job of putting your toilet paper in the potty!" But I don't often praise him for his innate talents, his subtle progress, his growth and uniqueness. 

Last week, I took Mr. Mercy and Squeaky Pea over to my neighbor's home to see her family's many pets. He was polite, interested and a little timid, but he suppressed his trepidation so he could meet all the animals-- even a sheepdog twice his size. 

My boy was absorbed in the backyard animal kingdom, but I found myself fixated on his behavior, falling into my habit of critiquing and apologizing for his behavior-- even neutral actions like taking off his shoes just after my neighbor said we didn't have to. As if somehow speaking negatively about my son made us more agreeable guests.

Each time I uttered a negative or apologetic word on my little son's behalf, my neighbor countered it in her easy German accent:

"Oh, it's alright, you can take them off. That's the polite thing to do."

"Let him run around. That's what kids need to do."

"His vocabulary is very advanced for a 3-year-old."

I caught on to the pattern and tried to zip it. With each positive rebuttal, I choked back the words I wished to say in response, words to minimize or temper her praise. "Why do I do this?" I wondered.

When we got home, I commented to my son, "That was fun, wasn't it? Ms. Kat really liked you!"

Without skipping a best, Mercy Child did a gleeful headstand on the sofa and fired back, "Yes. I'm smart!"

My heart melted and sank. 

"Yes, you are very smart, sweetheart."

I was thankful for him to have this happy moment of contentment with himself. I was truly glad he felt admired and validated by my neighbor. But I was ashamed that my own words don't often build him up that way.

What he does get is my in attention, my over-reactive anger and nit picky criticism in constant supply. For legitimate reasons, mind you: such as peeing, sprinkler style, all over the bathroom floor. For the third time this week. Or pinching Squeaky Pea's thumb in the bedroom door, seconds after I've told him to be careful. Or insisting that I let him sit on my lap when I'm in the middle of a challenging tutoring session online. 

But these moments add up, blending together as the soundtrack to his life until the messages that he's not good enough takes root. On the flip side, my words (and others') can help him grow into the best version of himself.

Prayer: Lord! Have mercy on my Mercy Boy. Have mercy on me. I don't know the first things about raising this wonderful, messy, affectionate, smart, fun-loving, contrary, irksome, adorable boy. I pray You'd tailor my speech towards and about him. Help me to see him differently-- not as a mom in the battle trenches, but as a thoughtful observer. Help me to savor and tease out his strengths with my notice and kind words. And flood me with patience in all those other moments. The showdowns. The messes. The selective hearing. The button-pressing. Help me be firm, but not harsh.

*****

These reflections were fueled by a couple of books:

Raising Preschoolers: Parenting for Today by Dr. Sylvia Rimm
Published in 1997 by Three Rivers Press
Psychologist and children's advocate Sylvia Rimm says that speaking positively about our kids to other adults, what she calls referential speaking, is the most powerful kind of attention we can give them because "small children believe that whatever adults say to each other is true; therefore, when adult conversation refers to them, they believe it" (75). What I speak now, helps form my son's identity for the long haul, for better or worse.

Say Goodbye to Whining, Complaining, and Bad Attitudes in You and Your Kids! by Scott Turanksy and Joanne Miller
Published in 2000 by Waterbrook Press 

The misleading title belies the positive focus on fostering honor in your home. One of the "honor-based parenting skills" that has stuck with me since reading this book with a group of moms last summer was to be firm without being harsh, the latter behavior being one I often slide into when I blow a fuse in order to show I mean business. Turansky instructs parents to correct their children with emotions in check, using eye contact, gentle words and even a hand on their shoulder to get attention. Putting this directive into perspective, Turansky says, "children are not possessions to order around with harshness; they are treasures to treat with honor" (104).