Glimmers
May 27, 2009
“Through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of our lives, we catch glimmers of at least what the saints are blinded by…” (Frederick Buechner, Listening To Your Life, p. 169)
Rut n. 1. A sunken track or groove made by the passage of vehicles. 2. A habitual, or unvaried way of living or acting.
I am a creature of habit. You probably are as well. My morning routines are, well, routine. I awake to either the coffee pot at 5:27 or the alarm at 5:30. I feed the cats, get coffee for my wife and myself. I do some reading, take a walk, exercise a bit and get ready for work. I drive to work and park in the same parking space almost every day. When I do park in a different spot I will most likely walk past my car in the afternoon, headed for where it usually is parked. Lately, as I alluded to in my last Glimmers, I’ve been in a rut.
Even the most exciting things can become routine as you repeat them over and over in the same way. They can become unconscious activities performed with all the animation of a creature from Night of the Living Dead. Ruts are comfortable. And that’s the problem. It has been said that a rut is just a grave with both ends knocked out. Ruts rob life of excitement. To maintain our sanity and joy, I think we need to be challenged and stretched every now and then. So if you’re tired of the “same old, same old,” break out! Take a class in dancing, photography, ancient history, or Aikido (like me). Visit a state park you’ve never seen. Or, horror of horrors, sit in a different seat at worship! Doing something new, or doing something you do often in a different way, can change your perspective and restore some lost joy to your life.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Because I have to!
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men,since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward."
(Paul, Colossians 3:23-24)
People say they enjoy Glimmers and I say that I enjoy writing them. At least half of that statement has not been true lately. The last half. The frequency of my Glimmers posts have declined markedly. In reflecting on the "why," I came across this passage in Colossians. It is all about the motivation, the "heart" reasons for our actions.
My motivation for Glimmers has gotten skewed. It has become a task on my calendar. My calendar alarm pops up and says "Glimmers" and I resent it. It has fallen into the "your term paper is due on Wednesday" trap. I have been reduced from doing it because I want to, to doing it because I have to and because other people expect me to. How sad! No wonder I can't find any inspiration.
Why do we do what we do? Why do we work? Because we want to, or because we have to? Why do we give healing and compassionate care to our patients? Because we want to, or because we have to? Or do we do it as Erie Chapman suggests, because that's our "Mother" in that bed?
So I'm taking Glimmers of my "to do" list. My calendar won't bug me to get it done. We'll see what happens. If I were a betting man, I'm not, but if I were, I'd bet that I'm about to make a scientific discovery about the brain. I strongly suspect that the distance in my mind between "have to" and "want to" is one synapse.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
(Paul, Colossians 3:23-24)
People say they enjoy Glimmers and I say that I enjoy writing them. At least half of that statement has not been true lately. The last half. The frequency of my Glimmers posts have declined markedly. In reflecting on the "why," I came across this passage in Colossians. It is all about the motivation, the "heart" reasons for our actions.
My motivation for Glimmers has gotten skewed. It has become a task on my calendar. My calendar alarm pops up and says "Glimmers" and I resent it. It has fallen into the "your term paper is due on Wednesday" trap. I have been reduced from doing it because I want to, to doing it because I have to and because other people expect me to. How sad! No wonder I can't find any inspiration.
Why do we do what we do? Why do we work? Because we want to, or because we have to? Why do we give healing and compassionate care to our patients? Because we want to, or because we have to? Or do we do it as Erie Chapman suggests, because that's our "Mother" in that bed?
So I'm taking Glimmers of my "to do" list. My calendar won't bug me to get it done. We'll see what happens. If I were a betting man, I'm not, but if I were, I'd bet that I'm about to make a scientific discovery about the brain. I strongly suspect that the distance in my mind between "have to" and "want to" is one synapse.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Friday, May 1, 2009
Welcome to my country!
This past Tuesday I attended the 16th Annual Hospice Foundation of America Teleconference. The topic this year was “Diversity and End of Life Care.” It was well done, informative and helpful. It emphasized the importance of respect for cultures other than our own and encouraged curiosity. It recommended inviting others to be our teachers about how they understand the world, their illness, and how they make meaning of it all. It was good advice.
As I often do with such things, I went off on a couple of tangents from the original intent of the teleconference. First I reflected on my own family system. All three of my daughters have now married. Accepting and welcoming new members to the family is an intentional exercise in cross-cultural communication.
My sons-in -law all come from differing family cultures and regional cultures and it has sometimes seemed as if they are aliens from a foreign country. Jessie’s husband, Josh, is a prime example. Every now and then he comes out with something that causes me to shake me head and go “What?”
Josh is as good-hearted a person as you’ll ever meet. He is American, Caucasian, Christian, and English speaking so you’d think understanding him should be easy for me. It is, most of the time. But every now and then, I just don’t get him. The same is true of the other sons-in-law to varying degrees.
The teleconference gave me an idea. What if I thought of Josh as someone from a foreign country? Then I wouldn’t be surprised when I didn’t get something he said or did that seemed foreign to me, but was in alignment with his regional and family culture. He is, after all, from New Hampshire. It’s like a foreign country. I told him when he did or said something that seemed odd to me, I’d say, “He’s frum the Noth, he cain’t hep it!” We all laughed. But he got it. Later in the conversation, he said “Well, in my country…” and the laughter started again.
Reflecting further, I think there are striking similarities to adding new family members and adding new members to our Parrish Medical Center team. We too have a distinct culture that may be foreign to some. Helping them understand it and become acclimated to it is an exercise in cultural competence. It requires respect and curiosity from us all. Accepting new family members as family is a sign of good family health, at home, and at work. So the next time you have the opportunity to welcome someone to your family, or to your work team, you could say, “Welcome to my country!”
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
As I often do with such things, I went off on a couple of tangents from the original intent of the teleconference. First I reflected on my own family system. All three of my daughters have now married. Accepting and welcoming new members to the family is an intentional exercise in cross-cultural communication.
My sons-in -law all come from differing family cultures and regional cultures and it has sometimes seemed as if they are aliens from a foreign country. Jessie’s husband, Josh, is a prime example. Every now and then he comes out with something that causes me to shake me head and go “What?”
Josh is as good-hearted a person as you’ll ever meet. He is American, Caucasian, Christian, and English speaking so you’d think understanding him should be easy for me. It is, most of the time. But every now and then, I just don’t get him. The same is true of the other sons-in-law to varying degrees.
The teleconference gave me an idea. What if I thought of Josh as someone from a foreign country? Then I wouldn’t be surprised when I didn’t get something he said or did that seemed foreign to me, but was in alignment with his regional and family culture. He is, after all, from New Hampshire. It’s like a foreign country. I told him when he did or said something that seemed odd to me, I’d say, “He’s frum the Noth, he cain’t hep it!” We all laughed. But he got it. Later in the conversation, he said “Well, in my country…” and the laughter started again.
Reflecting further, I think there are striking similarities to adding new family members and adding new members to our Parrish Medical Center team. We too have a distinct culture that may be foreign to some. Helping them understand it and become acclimated to it is an exercise in cultural competence. It requires respect and curiosity from us all. Accepting new family members as family is a sign of good family health, at home, and at work. So the next time you have the opportunity to welcome someone to your family, or to your work team, you could say, “Welcome to my country!”
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Friday, April 10, 2009
Icebergs
Larry Kelly is an Air Force veteran. For twenty years he taught small arms tactics to Air Force recruits. In retirement, he continues to serve the Air Force as a civilian counselor. I heard him speak last Tuesday about the kinds of issues facing those he works with at Patrick Air Force Base. He talked about the stresses of deployment, divorce, risk-taking and thrill-seeking behaviors, and the high rate of suicide. He is evidence that the military takes these things very seriously and is seriously trying to address them.
Larry gave us a handout with a picture of an iceberg on it. He said, “Before we started surveying the base population, we thought we knew what kinds of problems we were dealing with, but after the survey, we realized we didn’t know the half of it.” He said it is like the iceberg in the picture. You only see the one-third that is above the surface. It is the weight and mass below the surface, out of sight, that is so dangerous.
The people that I work with, the people in our hospital, the people in my own family…and yes, even I, have so much stuff below the surface that remains invisible to most who see us. We’re all icebergs. But we better let somebody see it. We’d better process it somewhere with someone we trust. If not, even the Titanic is not safe.
Easter Blessings,
Jerald
Larry gave us a handout with a picture of an iceberg on it. He said, “Before we started surveying the base population, we thought we knew what kinds of problems we were dealing with, but after the survey, we realized we didn’t know the half of it.” He said it is like the iceberg in the picture. You only see the one-third that is above the surface. It is the weight and mass below the surface, out of sight, that is so dangerous.
The people that I work with, the people in our hospital, the people in my own family…and yes, even I, have so much stuff below the surface that remains invisible to most who see us. We’re all icebergs. But we better let somebody see it. We’d better process it somewhere with someone we trust. If not, even the Titanic is not safe.
Easter Blessings,
Jerald
Thursday, March 26, 2009
My Daughter's Wedding
Glimmers
March 26, 2009
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22,23 NRSV)
I have no idea how many wedding ceremonies I have done. All have been a privilege for me. Ministry has its perks. The best perk of all is that I have been the minister for my own daughters’ weddings. The last of the three, my youngest, is to be married this weekend.
I have often been asked as a minister/father how I could do both. “How does it feel to give your daughter away?” “How can you do the ceremony without losing it?” I can tell you that I wondered myself.
Candace, the middle one, was the test case. Any doubts I had about relinquishing her to the love of another disappeared as I stood at the end of the aisle. At her wedding, at the wedding of her sister, Jessie, and now with Amanda, it was all about the person at the other end of the aisle. I wondered, “Does he love her as much as I do?” “Can he be trusted to care for her, to defend her, to protect her and to put up with the peculiar quirks that so endeared her to me?” In each case I have been able to say yes to those questions and have thus far found my trust well placed.
Their lives, and my own, will take many twists and turns in the years ahead. Who can predict what will come? Death and taxes may be certain in life. Few other things are.
Thomas Obediah Chisholm, the one who wrote the lyrics for the classic hymn “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” battled the ups and downs of uncertain health most of his life. The only thing constant about his health was that it was constantly changing. That uncertainty drew him to Lamentations 3:22-23, and that inspired the lyrics to the now famous hymn. There he found “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”
So as we round the turn and come to the end of the aisle, I’ll let go. He’ll take her hand. We’ll recite ancient and holy words and send them off into uncertainty. I can do so with confidence because of some other ancient words that once inspired a man named Thomas Chisholm. I trust those most of all.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
March 26, 2009
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22,23 NRSV)
I have no idea how many wedding ceremonies I have done. All have been a privilege for me. Ministry has its perks. The best perk of all is that I have been the minister for my own daughters’ weddings. The last of the three, my youngest, is to be married this weekend.
I have often been asked as a minister/father how I could do both. “How does it feel to give your daughter away?” “How can you do the ceremony without losing it?” I can tell you that I wondered myself.
Candace, the middle one, was the test case. Any doubts I had about relinquishing her to the love of another disappeared as I stood at the end of the aisle. At her wedding, at the wedding of her sister, Jessie, and now with Amanda, it was all about the person at the other end of the aisle. I wondered, “Does he love her as much as I do?” “Can he be trusted to care for her, to defend her, to protect her and to put up with the peculiar quirks that so endeared her to me?” In each case I have been able to say yes to those questions and have thus far found my trust well placed.
Their lives, and my own, will take many twists and turns in the years ahead. Who can predict what will come? Death and taxes may be certain in life. Few other things are.
Thomas Obediah Chisholm, the one who wrote the lyrics for the classic hymn “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” battled the ups and downs of uncertain health most of his life. The only thing constant about his health was that it was constantly changing. That uncertainty drew him to Lamentations 3:22-23, and that inspired the lyrics to the now famous hymn. There he found “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”
So as we round the turn and come to the end of the aisle, I’ll let go. He’ll take her hand. We’ll recite ancient and holy words and send them off into uncertainty. I can do so with confidence because of some other ancient words that once inspired a man named Thomas Chisholm. I trust those most of all.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Monday, March 16, 2009
Make a bid!
My first experience at an auction was as a boy at the Bradford County fair in Starke, Florida. The auctioneer was selling steers that had been raised by kids in the Future Farmers of America (FFA). I remember thinking how foreign the language sounded and wondering how anyone could spit words out so quickly. He called for bids, acknowledged bids and challenged the bidders to ante up higher and higher until he said “Sold!”
In their book, The Relationship Cure , authors John Gottman and Joan DeClaire talk about relational bids. These are efforts to connect with others. We all make them, these bids, with a look, a smile, a greeting or a comment that invites others to connect with us. Dr. Gottman speaks about three possible responses to bids and the differences those responses can make in a relationship. Take the simple question, “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Turning toward looks like this. “I’d love to, thanks.” Or, “That’s a nice invitation, but I can’t. I have to get home to my boyfriend.” Turning away is illustrated by, “No. Sorry, I’m busy.” And turning against by, “No, I’m cleaning the lint out of my dryer tonight" (p. 55).
The different responses show varying levels of regard toward the other. Turning toward shows a highly positive regard. Turning away is less positive and bordering on indifference. Turning against is negative and moving toward hostility.
Dr. Gottman’s research with hundreds of married couples revealed that in couples headed for divorce, men turned away or against their spouse’s bids 82% of the time and women did so 50% of the time. In happily married couples the numbers were 19% of the time for men and 14% of the time for women (p. 4). Dr. Gottman observed that when people received consistently negative responses to their bids, they quickly gave up trying and the relationship deteriorated rapidly.
This bidding process doesn’t just happen between couples. We make bids and receive bids from co-workers too. Patients bid for caregivers’ attention with call lights, questions and facial expressions.
Right now, somewhere, someone is making a bid to you, bidding for your attention or care. Which response will you choose?
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
In their book, The Relationship Cure , authors John Gottman and Joan DeClaire talk about relational bids. These are efforts to connect with others. We all make them, these bids, with a look, a smile, a greeting or a comment that invites others to connect with us. Dr. Gottman speaks about three possible responses to bids and the differences those responses can make in a relationship. Take the simple question, “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Turning toward looks like this. “I’d love to, thanks.” Or, “That’s a nice invitation, but I can’t. I have to get home to my boyfriend.” Turning away is illustrated by, “No. Sorry, I’m busy.” And turning against by, “No, I’m cleaning the lint out of my dryer tonight" (p. 55).
The different responses show varying levels of regard toward the other. Turning toward shows a highly positive regard. Turning away is less positive and bordering on indifference. Turning against is negative and moving toward hostility.
Dr. Gottman’s research with hundreds of married couples revealed that in couples headed for divorce, men turned away or against their spouse’s bids 82% of the time and women did so 50% of the time. In happily married couples the numbers were 19% of the time for men and 14% of the time for women (p. 4). Dr. Gottman observed that when people received consistently negative responses to their bids, they quickly gave up trying and the relationship deteriorated rapidly.
This bidding process doesn’t just happen between couples. We make bids and receive bids from co-workers too. Patients bid for caregivers’ attention with call lights, questions and facial expressions.
Right now, somewhere, someone is making a bid to you, bidding for your attention or care. Which response will you choose?
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Don't forget the love
Glimmers,
March 5, 2009
My Uncle, Ike Smith of Chattanooga, TN, is in his mid 80s now. From the time my father died in 1968 till now, he has been my link to my father. I learned what I know of my father’s early life from him. I would never have known about my father’s crazy motorcycle wreck on that dark, South Georgia dirt road were it not for him, or how crazy in love my parents were in the early days of their marriage.
Uncle Ike is a retired elementary school principal. His wife, Alice, died almost two years ago. Uncle Ike has been in church his whole life. He has held just about every position one could hold in a local church, except Pastor. I spoke to him by phone yesterday. He asked about the family, “How are those girls?” “And your son-in-law, is he in Iraq or is he home?” I assured him all is well, that Chris is back home and I updated him about the upcoming wedding of my youngest and the baby on the way for my oldest.
He talked about his health. He said he is doing well, getting out some, to the doctors and church mostly. The last time I saw him, he shuffled as he walked in a way that reminds me of the Tim Conway character I used to love to see on the Carol Burnett show. He said that he couldn’t keep up with things around the house like he used to, so he has just had to accept it and let some things go. For someone whose house always looked like a page out of Southern Living, it is no small feat.
But as he usually does, he left me with something thought provoking. He said someone asked him why he went to the City Church and not some other. He said, “I told them I don’t go because of the minister and I don’t go because of the music.” “I don’t go to hear him, necessarily, or to hear the choir.” “I go because they love me.” He continued to explain. “When I get there, they tell me how glad they are to see me. Those big ol’ men hug me and they help me to my seat.” “When they wrap me up in those arms, I feel just like a little child that is loved.” “I go there because they love me.”
I suspect that is why most people go where they do. When they come here, let’s not forget the love.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
March 5, 2009
My Uncle, Ike Smith of Chattanooga, TN, is in his mid 80s now. From the time my father died in 1968 till now, he has been my link to my father. I learned what I know of my father’s early life from him. I would never have known about my father’s crazy motorcycle wreck on that dark, South Georgia dirt road were it not for him, or how crazy in love my parents were in the early days of their marriage.
Uncle Ike is a retired elementary school principal. His wife, Alice, died almost two years ago. Uncle Ike has been in church his whole life. He has held just about every position one could hold in a local church, except Pastor. I spoke to him by phone yesterday. He asked about the family, “How are those girls?” “And your son-in-law, is he in Iraq or is he home?” I assured him all is well, that Chris is back home and I updated him about the upcoming wedding of my youngest and the baby on the way for my oldest.
He talked about his health. He said he is doing well, getting out some, to the doctors and church mostly. The last time I saw him, he shuffled as he walked in a way that reminds me of the Tim Conway character I used to love to see on the Carol Burnett show. He said that he couldn’t keep up with things around the house like he used to, so he has just had to accept it and let some things go. For someone whose house always looked like a page out of Southern Living, it is no small feat.
But as he usually does, he left me with something thought provoking. He said someone asked him why he went to the City Church and not some other. He said, “I told them I don’t go because of the minister and I don’t go because of the music.” “I don’t go to hear him, necessarily, or to hear the choir.” “I go because they love me.” He continued to explain. “When I get there, they tell me how glad they are to see me. Those big ol’ men hug me and they help me to my seat.” “When they wrap me up in those arms, I feel just like a little child that is loved.” “I go there because they love me.”
I suspect that is why most people go where they do. When they come here, let’s not forget the love.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
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