Reminders

There are two bags sitting by the door to the garage. A well-used green cloth one contains library books ready to be returned and the plastic grocery bag, clothes to take to Goodwill. When I left the office on Friday I stuck a post-it on the computer to highlight a task that needs to be done first thing Monday morning. Calendars and alerts on our phone tell us of appointments or needed follow-ups. Those are the easy practical kind of reminders of a Saturday or workday to-do list.

My body is the source of many reminders. It tells me when I need fuel and when I need to sleep. Restlessness is an indication I need to move and a twinge can let me know it's time to stop. I resent the reminders like blue veins and brown spots and my new bifocals that reflect aging, but these are common to all of us.

There are wonderful reminders of adventures and loved ones throughout my home. Photo albums and souvenirs let me relive trips; family pieces and knick-knacky gifts reflect a connection. I might pass someone on the street who makes a gesture or walks in a certain way reminiscent of someone from my past. These are all nostalgic reminders.

Our ancestors relied on nature for their reminders. They got up when it was light and went to bed when it turned dark. They read the weather and knew when to plant and when to harvest. Our past weekend was a tease from Mother Nature who hinted that spring is coming even while forecasters tell us that it is still winter and snow is predicted for Wednesday. I appreciate weather because it is a constant reminder that we are not in control. 

Tomorrow the doctor will finally remove the stitches from my palm. There will be a scar that will remind me of the few days of pain and few weeks of inconvenience resulting from an accident that could have been so much worse. I occasionally have a flashback to the two moments of impact – first walking into the wall and then falling backwards and hitting the floor. It is a brief reminder of the jolt, collision and tumble. My flashback is but a shadow compared to those warriors with PTSD. Those who serve and victims from severe accidents who lost limbs or mobility or pieces of who they had been, bear a constant reminder of trauma. These personal experience reminders can help us build bridges from our past to our future and to others on a parallel road.

I used to enjoy sitting down once a month to take care of bills. That evening was a good reminder of why I work, my responsibilities and the cash flow in and out. Today income is deposited and debts automatically withdrawn. Sure, a reminder appears in my inbox that a transaction happened or is due, but requires no intervention on my part. My car tells me to put on my seat belt and to be careful because it might snow. 

I wonder if we don't have too many reminders about the wrong things built in to our days. The men and women with 'homeless, please help' signs on the expressway ramp and those longer commercials on television featuring abused and starving children and animals are reminders of a different sort. These are reminders that we live in a world that is not equal and are ones that make me uncomfortable. I actually think we need more of these, difficult though they may be.

 
Marilyn

Living in the earth

The phrase “I do not live on the earth but in it” jumped out at me one morning last week during my quiet time. Many people say they feel closet to the Divine out in nature, not in a manmade sanctuary. They find forests calming, comforting and connecting. While some feel insignificant, isolated and anxious when standing on a beach looking at the vastness of the ocean, I tap into the rhythm of the ancient tide. Time in an arboretum or on a dune lowers my blood pressure and feeds my soul.

Living ‘in’ the earth means we are grounded. Grounded, we are more secure. We have a sense of place. When I look around that place, I can see there are others – YOU – right next to me. By being in the earth, not just on it or of it, I am not alone. Sure, you and I and all the others there with us may be looking in different directions, but that’s part of what makes our days interesting. It doesn’t matter if you are an atheist, agnostic, seeker or believer of any kind. We have a commonality by being planted in, not just on this natural world. Our interpretations of all of it will vary, but we start by knowing we are a part of something. It is our communion. And, living ‘in’ the earth while ‘on’ it also better prepares me for the transition to when that will actually be true again, when my ashes are scattered. While that truth is jarring, in an odd way is it also reassuring.

There are so many times in our lives when we feel afloat, when we are in an ‘in-between’ place. I hope the next time I recognize that feeling in myself that I’ll also remember this new perspective. This simple shift of one word, from ‘on’ to ‘in,’ can help me understand that I’m simply in a time of transplant and my feet will end up in a whole new exciting spot in the earth. Wonder who’ll be next to me there?

Marilyn

She did what she could

A ninety year old woman was asked for her favorite Bible verse and she quoted from the book of Mark, “She did what she could.” The phrase comes from an event at a dinner towards the end of Jesus' life. He and his disciples were at a friend's house when a woman joined the gathering. She had a jar of very expensive perfume which she poured on Jesus' head.

So, picture it. People are sitting around, talking and eating, when someone comes in with a jug and pours its contents over a guest's head! At a frat party it would be beer, the end of a championship, champagne. Here, it was expensive perfume and no one reacts to the act itself. What many of those in attendance got upset at the waste of a valuable resource. One said, "That's criminal! It could have been sold for a lot of money and handed out to the poor," in fact another translation of that passage states the perfume was worth a year's wages. 

Jesus rebuked the complainers and stated that she had done something good in anointing him for burial. They didn't know that his death was eminent, so they didn't understand his comment nor his follow up remarks indicating that "she did what she could when she could" and that her act would be remembered for generations to come.

The author then concludes this part of his narrative with "Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the cabal of high priests, determined to betray him. They couldn't believe their ears, and promised to pay him well. He started to look for just the right time to hand him over."

It seems that the extravagance of that one act by that one woman was the straw that broke the camel's back for the group's treasurer. What that event did for our ninety year old believer was to give her courage for her whole life. 

The fact that it seemed normal for a woman to join the party supports the premise that women were an accepted segment of Jesus' inner circle. My guess is that she was a neighbor of the host and known to most present. At least she wasn't a stranger since no one was alarmed when she showed up.

Her anonymity means she represents all of us, challenging us to do what we can do when we can do it. So whether it is a large donation in a red bucket, a granola bar for the homeless on the corner, setting the communion table at church, fostering stray animals or cooking a meal to share, as long as we do what we can, we are making a difference. Sometimes we do what we can by ourselves, sometimes as part of a team or a relay. Sometimes our acts recognized, but most often not. Our acts may seem like a drop in a bucket and individually will not be remembered, but collectively we mold the world we want to live in.

“She did what she could" is a pretty nice epitaph and words to live by.

Marilyn

In need of a translator

Every day there is at least one instance when I am in need of a translator. Such moments often occur while reading the headlines or when I sit in church, when I overhear a conversation in a foreign language (be it sports or Spanish) or walk in a forest.

I was reminded of this during my recent trip to the emergency room. We have all watched enough medical shows to know that "Stat!" means immediately, but I’m sorry to report I never heard that while there. If the morphine hadn't kicked in, I might have been able to figure out that a "Code Red!" announced over the loudspeaker was a fire drill, but I had to ask the x-ray technician. I chatted with the doctors about the words they kept using to describe my wound and their actions and wish I could remember some examples, but they sounded rather military and out of context as I lay on the bed.

People in unfamiliar settings, such as a new job or family gathering, need translators. Rookies are lucky if there is a glossary to help them with the industrial terms and acronyms that over time will become second nature to them and used repeatedly in their own conversations. Outsiders entering a close-knit group are excluded from the shorthand developed over the years by the inner circle. It takes the newbies a long time to know why everyone laughs when Uncle Biff is mentioned or the mood shifts if someone refers to Grandma Hilda.

 

How does one better describe a ‘pinch of salt’ to the cooking-challenged or regional jargon like ‘The Drive’ or soda vs. cola vs. pop to transplants? The just resolved issue at Wheaton College about the professor whose personal post on her Facebook page about Christians and Muslims worshiping the same God highlighted some generational, institutional and religious differences that needed a translator.  

As much as I love nature, on any given walk I could use a guide to translate what I am seeing, hearing or feeling. What is that bird saying? Whose scat is that on the tree trunk? My six years of Latin were beneficial in studying English but when our French teacher walked in the first day and only spoke French, I struggled. It’s frustrating on the el or in the lunchroom to not be able to understand snippets I overhear being conducted in other tongues. Let's just skip over computer and social media language, legalese or the fact that I need a young person to explain to me who 95% of the people in People are.

I guess part of this line of thinking leads me to realize that needing a translator in so many situations makes us all immigrants in the various worlds we traverse on a daily basis. Somehow I don’t think the close-the-border thinkers would appreciate the irony of that.

 

Marilyn