Cloned Facebook Account Alert, and a Good-Natured (I Hope) Rant

Just in case it's not obvious....

I am not Chief Mike Benham of 1502 Division or even know what the English Vol. Fire Department is. My name is not Ruthanne Sent Requests, as if that's not obvious either.

I thought these things were supposed to be getting harder to spot, but anyhoo.

And because it's happened yet again, I will yet again repeat a few things that are important to me as I navigate the on line world.

Do not accept any new friend requests from me unless I have otherwise contacted you, in person or by other non-Facebook means.

I will never ask for personal money to be sent to some weird account, because I don't need that kind of money ever, and any fundraising I do is all done through orderly, legitimate means that are easily traceable.

I do not accept new friend requests either, unless I can confirm it otherwise.

I never click on a link or an attachment unless I can confirm otherwise.

If not copying and pasting a pre-written, guilt-laden post somehow puts me in that despicable 97% of your friends proving somehow that I don't care about cancer or animal cruelty or disabilities or whatever, oh well.

And, while I'm at it, I will not hold, copy and paste in any attempt to rid my feed of ads, or see more Friends, or be suddenly flush with money, or as a means by which God might answer my prayers. Just, don't even.

What I do appreciate about social media in general is that we all have this amazing opportunity to lift each other up, cheer each other on, speak courage into each other's hearts, and remind each other of what is true and noble and right and pure and lovely and admirable.

There is so much goodness we can spread around into all the muck that's out there right now!!!

To the person or persons who have sent out this most recent distortion of my image, I am so sorry that your life has come to this. Truly. I am praying that you and those in your circles will be able to find employment in something that brings you dignity and worth, and connects you with others in ways that are deeply satisfying and life-giving.

Okay, now on to a Friday full of anticipation for a robust weekend.

Life is good.

The Bluff Charge

 "The Moses answered the people,

"Fear not.

Stand firm and [Watch God] you will see the 

deliverance the LORD will bring you today.

The Egyptians you see today

you will never see again.

The Lord with fight for you;

you need only to be still."

Exodus 14:13-14

Apparently, if you're out in the woods and you encounter a bear, and if that bear decides to charge, what you're supposed to do is make yourself as big as possible, make as much noise as possible, and stay put.

Don't run.

I learned this directly from the Natural Resources officer who answered the phone that night I was alone in the cottage with a black bear sniffing around.  I was in no immediate danger, so we had a long and lovely chat about bears in general; how to co-exist in cottage country, how to keep ourselves safe, and a few choice bits of information about bear behaviour.

She said that sometimes bears might do what's called a 'bluff charge'.  They pound the ground a bit with their front legs, and then head towards you in a run.  But if you stay put, make yourself big and loud, they stop.  You'd be okay, as long as you don't run.

Yeah, right.

I do not doubt the truth of this information.  The officer really did seem to know what she was talking about, and a cursory online look verifies this.  I only doubt my ability to have the nerve to hold my ground if ever faced with such a situation.

That conversation happened about ten years ago or so.  And fortunately, up until this day, I have never had to find out if a) it's true that it would be just a bluff charge or b) I would be able to stay put.

However.

I do believe I've been able to apply this same strategy when facing other threatening situations in my life.  Not the bear kind.  But the kind where I perceive that something I love and value is in danger.  Where forces bigger and stronger than me seem to be advancing toward me in ways menacing and terrifying.

When caught between the Egyptian army and the Red Sea, Moses gave the Israelites four instructions.  

"Stand firm" was one of them.  I'm sure that was not so easy to do.

For me, when facing a menacing threat, 'stand firm' can mean a variety of spiritual 'postures.'

One would be staying quietly engaged in a confrontation without matching the volume and energy of the person accusing me.

Another might be refusing to jump to the worst case scenario that my imagination can conjure, and waiting instead for the story to unfold.

Another might be to simply take a few deep breaths and recite 'firm-standing' Scriptures to myself, this one from Exodus being a favourite.

Another might be to remain steady in self-advocacy, enlisting support where needed, particularly when something truly wrong is going on that not only threatens something cherished, but demands my moral involvement in protecting it.

And like a possible encounter with a bluff-charging bear, there are times when loud roars and flailing arms might be necessary.  But even then, my feet are planted, and the energy expended is not a frantic panic reaction, but a confident, carefully directed response.  

That's when I'm standing firm, however.  Sometimes I do give way to the fear, and hightail it out of there, cowering in a corner until I can collect my wits about me again.  It still happens, sure.

But more and more, as I practice standing on my own two feet and watch God be faithful time and time again, I'm finding my first responses to be less freaked-out and more firm-standing.

So much in the news these days that could conjure up worse case scenarios.  And life throws menacing things at us often enough, even without the politics.  

What would it look like, though, if we could stay still, feet planted, focused and steady in the midst of it all?  

Not sure what you need today, but I needed to remind myself of this.

A Disciplined Convenience

This is going to be about Lent and the whole deal where we participate in spiritual practices as part of "the process of being formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (M. Robert Mulholland).

 Just wanted to say so, because it's going to take me a minute to get to that, and it's only fair that you know ahead of time so you can decide if you'd rather scroll along to something shorter, or just something else.  

Which, honestly, is fine.  I do it too.

This is just a slice of what I've been mulling over in the spaces made available as I've given up productivity for Lent.  

I'll begin with a story of getting to the bank.

And as soon as I write that first sentence, I realize this makes me something of a target for all those comments about seniors not keeping up with technology, specifically about all the 'on line' banking options now available to the unsuspecting masses.  So, yes.  I realize that half of what the story I'm about to tell wouldn't be at all necessary --  if it was just about banking.  

But it's not, so I'll continue.

As part of the bigger picture of our family banking, I have two separate accounts at two entirely different institutions.  This isn't the place to talk about diversifying portfolios or spousal access or any of that complicated stuff.  Because this is really just about me needing to keep things simple and clearly organized in a way that doesn't mess with my numbers/money-phobic brain.  

When we lived in Waterloo and I was travelling a certain route daily, back and forth to the church, both Banks had a branch "on the way."  Easy peasy.  Didn't even have to change lanes or navigate a roundabout to get in to the parking lot and/or the drive through.  Just zip zip, in and out.  So convenient.

Now that we live where we do, not so much.  Many other amenities and services are closer than they used to be, including doctor's, dentist, optometrist, Dollorama, various and sundry dining establishments, the place you can vacuum out your vehicle, groceries, thrift stores and, yes, even the church.  A lot of it is within easy walking distance, actually.  Or at the very least, on the way to other things with easy access driving. 

But one of the two Banks does not have a branch anywhere near us or on the way to anything.  It's not their fault, and it's not a deal breaker for me, not at all.  In fact, the way I do my banking, I usually don't have to visit that particular account in person much if at all, as there are direct deposits going on there.  (Hey, maybe I do know how to do some on line stuff.....Oh wait.  Ken set that all up for me, so never mind.)

On one particular day, when Ken and I were coming in off the 401 after being out of town, I realized that I needed to deposit a cheque (yes a paper one) into the now awkward account.  We tried first to find a branch using the maps ap, just so we could do this errand smoothly between the 401 and home.  But it sent us to 'withdrawal only' ATMs, and we soon decided it was going to be just as easy to go out of the way to stop in at my 'regular' branch and get this done.  So not convenient, and it actually ended up adding a full 30 minutes to our already 2 hour drive.  

But oh well, it's not like I have to do it often.  Which is good.  Because if I had to, I wouldn't.  I might even have to change Banks if it got to be too inconvenient.

Here's where I switch into the Lent stuff.  Because my mind works like that, and this is what I was thinking as we were in and out of the not-helpful-for-this-task ATMs.

We're like that, us humans.  We seek convenience.  Especially in this era of on line, drive-through, fast food, instant gratification, time-is-precious, pace of life.  This is why it is recommended that we find a gym that's either close to home or at least on the way to work.  Or, if you're on a diet that requires any degree of chopping or other prep, you find ways to do it in bigger batches so things are easily ready when it's meal time.  We are more inclined to stick with the exercise, or stick with the diet if it's convenient.

And I think this might be important for those of us who sometimes struggle with having consistent times of meditation and reflection.  Who very much want to make the space for times to be spiritually quiet, to contemplate holy things, to listen for the guidance and correction and affirmations we so desperately need, but who find it hard to make it a matter of disciplined practice.

What if we started with convenience?

Now, if you're like me you might have a slight push back to this idea at first.  Some of us were raised in a more rigid spiritual environment where they talked about things like prolonged and painful positions of prayer.  There was even a knee thing called 'prayer callouses' which, apparently, were supposed to be a sign of spiritual fervor.  Not making that up.  You also got extra points if you woke up in the wee hours of the morning to do your 'quiet time.'  And if you were in any other way somewhat uncomfortable or inconvenienced then, wow, that was considered to be a sign of true devotion.  Convenient?  How heathen!

Right here, things could go a little sideways, if we're not careful.

In considering a disciplined convenience, we cannot disrespect the ways that devotion does indeed often require sacrifice.  The Desert Mothers and Fathers, who excelled in inconvenient and uncomfortable practices, were themselves reacting against the indulgent prosperity into which the Church at the time had plunged.  There are times when fasting or solitude or pressing into something less than comforting does produce the character and growth we are after.  Our Christian faith is founded on the sacrifice of Christ on our behalf, who spared nothing to bring us redemption.  And we are called to pick up our cross and follow Him.  So there's that.

But if, in normal times, ordinary life, in a rubber-meets-the-road reality, a simpler consistency is what's needed, why not see if we can make spiritual reflection happen more consistently just by making it more convenient?

What if it happened at a time of day when we are most relaxed and open?  What if our season of life dictated how often we did this, instead of a forced expectation?  What if it could be in a physical space where we are cozy and receptive?  What if it could be associated with all the positivity we can muster around us, including maybe even possibly our favourite something in a mug? What if our Bibles and journals were there, easily accessible?  What if candles were involved?  

Or, boldly enough, what if we weren't even inside?  What if no journaling was expected, but instead the worship-filled poetry of a forest or a hiking trail or a birdfeeder in the backyard was allowed to write its wisdom on our hearts?

But now I'm going beyond convenience into the next level of self-awareness, and how that so truly connects with spiritual formation.  And I'm getting a little ahead of myself.  Because where this could go is to a point where we look forward to our practices the same way we look forward to a favourite dessert, or a delightful hobby, or a well-deserved treat of any sort.  

Possible?  I say it is.  But I would also say it probably starts more simply with things just being easy to access.

And it makes me curious.

If we could build these practices around the idea that convenience in itself can foster discipline, I wonder what might happen?  Not just during Lent.  But in the longer story of our ordinary living. 

It wasn't particularly productive that day, when we were stopping in at the ATMs and getting ourselves all turned around just to try to deposit a cheque.  But that's okay.  Because I've given up productivity for Lent.  And even though it makes me squirm a little, I'm liking where it's taking me.

Chosen Joy

 

I keep coming back to this picture.

Somjit is in the yellow on the left, and Beemai is in the black on the right.  We are waiting for evening worship time to begin, and the children are gathering and playing.  It's like that.  They come into the big meeting room and goof off a bit before we get started with the singing.  

Somjit and Beemai have been having a thumb war first, which evolves into a tableless arm wrestle, then a bit of what might be described as chair wrangling.  And it all is apparently hilarious fun.

And I keep coming back to this picture because, having been present when it was happening, just remembering the moment and looking at those faces delivers a significant injection of joy every time.  

How can it not?  I mean....just look at them!

In these days of Lenten reflection, these days of lesser productivity and a bit more space, I have become more aware of what I'm looking at.  And not all of it is joy.

There's a LOT going on on the planet these days, in case you didn't know.  But I fear the problem is that we all do know, and we know it a lot!  It comes at us non-stop thanks to our phones.  Mostly our phones, but also by all sorts of media.

An article that's already four years old from the American Psychological Association was outlining the stressors of too much news back in the days of COVID.  These days it's wars and rumours of wars and gas prices and politics and no end of awfulness that we can consume in a matter of minutes just by scrolling up.  

And then there's whatever's happening in our own orbits, in our neighbourhood, with our friends, within our families.  And oh, let's add in a long harsh winter winding up with a March that's behaving like a menopausal woman.  

But.  That's actually not all that's going on.  It's just one side of things.  Which brings me back to this picture and becoming more aware of, then more intentional about what I'm looking at.

It's a razor thin line sometimes between honest, compassionate engagement in the pain of others, and the good and necessary choice to find the joy.  We navigate the space between 'toxic positivity' and wallowing.  We dare not invalidate the negative even as we seek the positive.  And we can't let all the sorrow rob us of the joy that is indeed honestly available to us.  

Which brings me back to the picture.  Again.  Because...just look at them!

These sweet girls have known their own sorrow; more than they should have in their young lives.  Without going into their stories, just know that the fun they are having in this captured moment is a testament to their own resilience and the power of a nurturing environment to heal the soul.  They don't know it, I'm sure, but they bring so much joy to my own.  What a gift it is to be in that nurturing environment as often as I am.

So, what then?

I won't ignore the goings on, the bad and the ugly.  I won't run from the pain of others, or from caring and doing and knowing, not in that order, but maybe in that order.  

But I choose to let my focus rest on all that's good.

And yes, I can't help but hear it in my head right this minute.

"Whatsoever is true, or noble, or right, or lovely, or admirable -- anything excellent or praiseworthy...think on these things....  And the God of peace will be with you."  Philippians 4:8-9

And also with you.

Spiritual Formation Fast Forward

Scrolling confession:  I can waste a fair minute watching sped-up videos of someone cleaning up a yard.  

Specifically, there's this one guy out there who has a You Tube channel dedicated to tackling the outside of derelict properties by mowing overgrown lawns and clearing off driveways and sidewalks, freeing them from years of neglect.  I think he actually does own a business, but most of the short videos I've seen on my Facebook Feed showcase what he does as a public service.  It you want to check it out, here's a link SB Mowing.  Fair warning: If you get hooked, don't blame me.

In the clips I've seen, this guy does brutal work.  He's mostly out there with a spade and a shovel scraping off cracked cement blocks or asphalt.  That kind of thing takes time and a lot of back-breaking effort.  He trims hedges and cuts back young trees with too many rouge shoots, clearing away the front and sides of the houses.  Even when he's using his riding mower, some of those yards are massive and have odd contours.  He's out there for hours.

The thing about the videos though, is that it's all in fast motion.  And I think this is why I get hooked.  You can see the results so quickly.  What's taken him hours is done in a zip.  And it's so satisfying to see the utter transformation of a property!  Clean walkways, lawns trimmed and edged, yards cleared, curbside appeal restored.  It's like the whole place can breathe again.  All in a matter of minutes.  

If only.

In the introspection of Lent, then, it makes me want to ask the ridiculous question I already know the answer to:

Is there a fast-motion setting I could set on my soul?

And that makes me think of whiskey.  Or jeans.  Or cheese.  Or art.  Or balsamic vinegar.  Or any number of other things that, like my soul, cannot be hurried into their finer states.  

Spiritual formation is what I'm after.  "The process of being formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others," M. Robert Mulholland Jr. puts it.

Ah yes.  The process.  Pronounced "proooooooooooooocess." And there's no rushing it.  I want to.  I want the results in record time.  I want to be there already.  I want the clean lines and fresh face of character and virtue and faith.  I want to be master of my anxiety, released from my perfectionism, purged of all prejudices, a model of tranquility.  Like, right now.

But that's not how it works.  There is no short-changing the process.  There is no magic setting to speed things up. 

There's just sitting in it.  And repeating the practice of it.  And putting the work into it, day by day, bit by bit, sometimes shovel by shovel.  

Reminds me of 2 Peter 1:5-7:

For this very reason, make every effort to 

add to your faith goodness; and to goodness knowledge,

and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance

and to perseverance, godliness, and to godliness, mutual affection;

and to mutual affection, love.

And if that sounds like a quick and easy progress of things to you, I would gently suggest you haven't tried it.  

Back to our definition.  Spiritual formation is a 'process of being formed.' The effort is clearly ours.  But the change is by the Spirit.  Like the two pedals on a bicycle; our part, His part.  So we sit in all of it, and then watch what the Spirit wants to do with us.  And it's okay.

Because He does.  He will.  He's patient and good like that.  

Good thing.  I need Him to be that and so much more for me.

Guarding Above All Else

 

Above all else

guard your heart,

for everything you do flows from it.

Proverbs 4:23

More for Lent as we finish up the week.

Still finding myself in those spaces of getting less things done on purpose, and not always loving what I find there.  Gently, because it's of no purpose to inflict shame upon one's own soul.  But honestly, because change only comes from the truth.

Guarding my heart.  These words from Solomon come to mind for some unexpected reason when I move this votive glass aside to grab a book on the shelf.  The glass has been there a long time, but the delicacy of the heart tied in the ribbon catches my attention in a new way just now.  And I hear the verse inside my head.

Why this?  It's my first question.  Why these words at such a small and random provocation?  This happens for me sometimes, no often, and I want to pay attention when it does.  So I open my Bible and sit with it for a while.  In those Lenten spaces.

Because lately, while all this not-doing-so-much-stuff is going on, I've been in touch with more anger than I'd like to admit.  Doesn't matter what about, but it's there, and it's a lot, and that surprises me.  And it distracts me.  It's not who I want to be, yet here we are.   I'm disappointed.  Maybe I thought that in the spaces I'd be opening up to more peace.  But not so much.  

So then I sit with that.  The anger.  I let myself feel it.  Try to trace it backwards to what's underneath.  Gently, because it's of no purpose to thrash about needlessly expending precious energy.  But honestly, because sorting it out only comes from the truth.

And yes, it's true, that everything I do flows from my heart, from that core of who I am, what I love and how I feel and what is cherished.  Everything.  Guarding that, owning that, caring for and nourishing that.  I sit with all of that for a bit longer.  

Then I put the book back, and the votive glass back, and let the delicacy of that dangling heart move ever so slightly in the doing of it.  Not resolved.  That won't come so simply or easily or quickly.  But perhaps it's made less in recognizing it, owning it, validating it.  For now, that will be enough.  It's a process after all.

Maybe this is why Lent lasts forty days.  I need the time.

Oh, and the snow thing is back with us again today.  

Would anyone be glad for it by now?  Not sure.

But at least it's Friday.

Lots going on this weekend, and I will embrace it all.

March Showers and Unplowed Ground

 

And oh, doesn't the sound of the rain make it all so cozy to stay in bed just a little longer this morning!

With the temperatures sitting at above zero these past few nights, I've cranked open the window for some fresh-air sleeping.  Yes, I know some of you do this all winter long, but for me this is a significant sign of spring.  And this morning it meant I woke up and lay in the lovely of it for a bit.

"March Showers" are admittedly a different deal than "April Showers."  It's not supposed to be until May that we get to the flowers part of the rhyme.  We'll have to wait until late April, early May to catch those fleeting Trilliums, resurrected from the earth in all their triune glory.  But this morning I thought ahead to them, glad for this good soaking to get things started.

Rain seems appropriate for Lent then.  A dark sky overhead to prepare for what's coming.  But first, Hosea.

"Sow righteousness for yourselves, 

reap the fruit of unfailing love, 

and break up your unplowed ground, 

for it is time to seek the LORD, 

until he comes and showers His righteousness on you."

Hosea 10:12

As prophets go, Hosea holds a fair bit of what we might call 'moral authority' given how he lived out in real time anything God asked him to say to the people.  Knowing that this one text is actually in the middle of a fair scolding helps me see the call to 'break up your unplowed ground' as something of a challenge to identify places in my soul that might be resistant to God's redeeming work in me.  Specifically, where am I being stubborn, narrow, unmoved?

I've mentioned before that I am attempting to 'give up productivity for Lent.'  This has allowed for unassigned spaces where I encounter myself in different ways than when I am robustly occupied.  It's been good for me, although somewhat squirmy.  There is still unplowed ground in me.  I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not.  Such is the ever-deepening process of spiritual formation.  

Lent is a good opportunity to heed Hosea's admonition "for it's time to seek the LORD."

And a good opportunity for March rains to soften the earth a bit, and get ready for the Trillium resurrections.

Praying showers of goodness on you this wonder-filled Wednesday.