My father has been saying this for as long as I can remember. Yesterday I was flooded with reminders of how important these words are for living a full life. I went for a run and then headed to the Open Eye for a cup'a'joe. Walking in with me was Zu on a conference call, but still chatting with me and Goofus. Goofus, the good doctor of Carrboro, was sharing the paper with me and we waxed on as we often do about how to live life to its fullest. Goofus is a seeker like me, always learning from others' prayer practices and their music and how they are able to achieve a sense of being in such a cluttered and busy world. Goofus asked for a quote for the day on the way out and I hunted through an important book for a quote just for him by Agnes de Mille said/wrote: To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking.
Then, there was Tom, waiting for our friend, Kerndog, so they could bounce around some ideas about publishing and public relations. I married Tom and his wife in May thanks to a referral from another friend, Gumbi. Then, in walks Squonk with my new Sport Slippers--a Squonk patent. These are retired shoes that have now been turned into casual slippers by cutting out the back heel. They are the perfect fit and we are now in negotiations with China and many running shoe companies in terms of marketing options for this cool new product.
Friends are so important. They are taking care of you and hopefully they let you take care of them. There is no right way to be friends. We all have different gifts to give and we all need to receive various gifts over the course of our lives. I believe that God surrounds us with just the right sort of people to nurture us into who we are meant to be. That even includes folks we would not consider our friends, but that is another story for another day.
For today, look around, who do you count among your friends? This may tell more about you than your resume or your own account of who you are and what you are about. It's not about the number of friends. This is not about acquaintances and it is not about popularity. You may have lots of close friends and that's great. You are probably an extrovert and can manage all those folk, but whether it is two or 200, your friends tell the story of your life. My mother never needs more than a couple of really close friends, same goes for my wife, but their friends speak of them as if life does not work so well without them.
If we were to look around at the most unhappy folks in the world they feel as if they have no one. No one to look out for them and care for them. If they died, no one would notice for a long time if ever. If you feel this way--do something about it today. Join a small group at church. Attend an AA meeting even if you are not an alcoholic. Find a group run and go every week. Sign up for a book club. Loneliness is a real emotion, but the human heart cannot sustain it for too long. We need other people and guess what...other people need you.
drafted 10/21/09
Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Friday, May 26, 2017
Morning Song
This morning I awoke at 530am. It is Friday.
As the dog began to bark I did not hope that he would relinquish the call for me or anyone from upstairs, but I went down to greet him and begin the morning. In late May the morning is already breaking into the day before 6am, but in the hotel or the rental house I would have wished it dark.
Now I am ready to start. The downstairs are bright and clean and I have a client at 9am and now I can have an hour with the dog and the sunrise and raisin bran and counterculture coffee and filtered water from the new fridge. Everything is new and I am stirred no less than the coffee run through the french press.
The morning has broken and I am entering into new light. I am ready for new things. I am not afraid. I am ready to face the day. I am ready to greet children and welcome their commentary on the changes to their surroundings. Some change comes with criticism at first. Let it come. It's all part of their stirring, the process of adjusting to a new wineskin. Their home is new, but they were paradoxically once in it, but in it in a different skin. Before it was yellow on the outside and there were carpets upstairs. There were two sofas in the living room and no doors on the front office. The back deck was rougher and darker and now it is lighter and smoother. The berm was not cut back showing the fence and lost soccer and kickballs on the other side where there was once a thick brush. The prayer wall has been reconfigured in a low long line beside the house. Things are similar, yet decidedly different. How does all of that feel to a nine, or an eleven, or a thirteen year old? I don't really know. It feels great to an almost 42 year old. My birthday will not come (June 18) with me a sojourner. Instead, I will awake here, stirred, rested and ready to listen to the day.
With a word, the Lord stirs me in the morning;
in the morning, he stirs my ear to hear like a disciple.
This word is written on a scroll held by the prophet Isaiah on an icon I have treasured for years. I wrote the words on the bare floor of my bedroom before the hardwood covered it up, sometime in the Spring or late Winter of 2017. But the words are still under there. The words are hermetically protected by the hardwood. I even saw them after the hardwood was first laid, because those floors had to be ripped up and put down again. So I know they rest protected. By the grace of God, I'll never look on them again. But they still speak to me. I can still hear them. I can still follow their commands -- to get up in the morning, to stir, to hear well, because disciples hear for action, contemplation, for wisdom. I often tell coaching clients that it sometimes takes saying something three or four times to figure out what you really think and feel about a subject. Do I believe this and both sides of it. Sometimes you have to say it three or four times to figure out what you really think. Sometimes you have to hear three or four times to figure out what you really think. In a hurried world, it takes time to hear and say things three or four times. Better to get it right and hear and speak like a disciple.
Kristen took a picture of each of our prayers and scriptures written on the floors of the rooms where we sleep during construction. Each of us received a framed picture of the words that we wrote. Each little gift was placed on our beds on the day we moved in. She truly is a great giver of gifts. Mine are the words above and once more:
With a word, the Lord stirs me in the morning;
in the morning, he stirs my ear to hear like a disciple.
Norman Maclean closes A River Runs Through It with "under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs." My words are under the floor, just a few feet away from where my head rests each night and lifts each morning. I can't see the words anymore, but I trust that they are still there.
As the dog began to bark I did not hope that he would relinquish the call for me or anyone from upstairs, but I went down to greet him and begin the morning. In late May the morning is already breaking into the day before 6am, but in the hotel or the rental house I would have wished it dark.
Now I am ready to start. The downstairs are bright and clean and I have a client at 9am and now I can have an hour with the dog and the sunrise and raisin bran and counterculture coffee and filtered water from the new fridge. Everything is new and I am stirred no less than the coffee run through the french press.
The morning has broken and I am entering into new light. I am ready for new things. I am not afraid. I am ready to face the day. I am ready to greet children and welcome their commentary on the changes to their surroundings. Some change comes with criticism at first. Let it come. It's all part of their stirring, the process of adjusting to a new wineskin. Their home is new, but they were paradoxically once in it, but in it in a different skin. Before it was yellow on the outside and there were carpets upstairs. There were two sofas in the living room and no doors on the front office. The back deck was rougher and darker and now it is lighter and smoother. The berm was not cut back showing the fence and lost soccer and kickballs on the other side where there was once a thick brush. The prayer wall has been reconfigured in a low long line beside the house. Things are similar, yet decidedly different. How does all of that feel to a nine, or an eleven, or a thirteen year old? I don't really know. It feels great to an almost 42 year old. My birthday will not come (June 18) with me a sojourner. Instead, I will awake here, stirred, rested and ready to listen to the day.
With a word, the Lord stirs me in the morning;
in the morning, he stirs my ear to hear like a disciple.
This word is written on a scroll held by the prophet Isaiah on an icon I have treasured for years. I wrote the words on the bare floor of my bedroom before the hardwood covered it up, sometime in the Spring or late Winter of 2017. But the words are still under there. The words are hermetically protected by the hardwood. I even saw them after the hardwood was first laid, because those floors had to be ripped up and put down again. So I know they rest protected. By the grace of God, I'll never look on them again. But they still speak to me. I can still hear them. I can still follow their commands -- to get up in the morning, to stir, to hear well, because disciples hear for action, contemplation, for wisdom. I often tell coaching clients that it sometimes takes saying something three or four times to figure out what you really think and feel about a subject. Do I believe this and both sides of it. Sometimes you have to say it three or four times to figure out what you really think. Sometimes you have to hear three or four times to figure out what you really think. In a hurried world, it takes time to hear and say things three or four times. Better to get it right and hear and speak like a disciple.
Kristen took a picture of each of our prayers and scriptures written on the floors of the rooms where we sleep during construction. Each of us received a framed picture of the words that we wrote. Each little gift was placed on our beds on the day we moved in. She truly is a great giver of gifts. Mine are the words above and once more:
With a word, the Lord stirs me in the morning;
in the morning, he stirs my ear to hear like a disciple.
Norman Maclean closes A River Runs Through It with "under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs." My words are under the floor, just a few feet away from where my head rests each night and lifts each morning. I can't see the words anymore, but I trust that they are still there.
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