Just Be Kind

Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, 

and most underrated agent of human change.  

Bob Kerrey

I'll begin again with a referral to folks who know more about stuff than I do, and a link to an article from NeuroLaunch on The Psychology of Kindness.  And that's where I'm going this morning.  

Kindness.

Bob Kerrey's quote above makes me want to beat this one drum over and over again.

Just. Be. Kind.  We could change the world.  Or is that too far fetched?  I don't know.  It seems like it could work to me.  

What kind of world would we have if....

• We all let people go ahead of us in line ups.
• We offered a comforting smile and a word of encouragement to the parent in the store whose kid is having a meltdown.  
• We slowed our pace to match the slowest walker in our group.
• We checked in on the quiet one to make sure they were okay.
• We shoveled a sidewalk or mowed a lawn without being paid or asked.
• We looked up at our server and made eye contact with a smile as they approached our table.
• We tipped well, when we could.
• We listened harder when someone's English wasn't great.
• We spoke more clearly, without annoyance to someone whose hearing is impaired.
• We opened our posture and moved out a little so someone new could join the group.
• We made sure everyone got a piece of cake at the party.
• We thanked the Tim Horton's employee for being there on a long holiday weekend so we could get a coffee and a donut.
• We waited for a better moment when we sensed someone wasn't ready to hear whatever we had to say.
• We put aside our expectations for a fun time together with a friend when they arrived needing to talk about something that was upsetting them instead. 
• We saw something in the thrift store that reminded us of someone, so we bought it and randomly gave it to them for no reason.
• We did someone's chores for them as a surprise when they got home from a late meeting.
•  We chose our words very carefully, communicating respect and support, when and if we had to confront someone about something.
• We chose our words carefully, period.
• We said no gently and honestly.
• We said yes generously and as often as we could, within healthy boundaries.
• We sought ways to compliment and encourage each other as much as possible.
• We greeted each person as if they were the most important human in the world to us in that moment.
• We hugged the huggers hard, and gave space to the others with equal connectivity and joy.
• We shared.
• We took turns.
• We made room.
• We included.
• We accepted.
• We did unto others as we would have them do unto us.

Is it really that simple?  

What if it is?

What if the ending of war is so incredibly complex and layered and enmeshed and costly and ridiculous only because we forgot at the beginning of our connection just to be kind.  What if it actually does start here? Could we change the world?

I think we could.  Or we could at least try.

----------------

Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

 "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 
humility, gentleness and patience."
Colossians 3:12

The photo above is again from my morning walk.  My phone ap tells me this sweet thing has what seems to me the unfortunate name of hairy evening primrose.  Who comes up with this stuff?  Not sure if this is connected to kindness in any way at all, except I could add 'refrain from calling each other names" to my list.  Maybe I'll be kind and just call it an evening primrose.  Unless being hairy is a good thing.  It might be.  And now I'm just rambling.

When Being Compassionate Sabotages Your Ability to Be Compassionate

"We must learn to regard people less in the light
of what they do or omit to do,
and more in the light of what they suffer."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

It's not happening right at this moment, but I do bump up against this from time to time.  Not as often as in earlier decades of my life, when I bumbled along in my boundary-vague attempts at being a compassionate person.  I was not good at it then, not at all.  Still have lots to learn, in fact.  Since, from time to time, I'm still figuring this out.

For a more researched and intelligent perspective on this topic, I would leave here a link to a Psychology Today's article on compassion fatigue.  

For now, for the sake of just me and my own ruminations, I might offer some hard learned lessons on how to be empathetic and merciful and generous, and still stay in the game of humanity-for-humanity, as God both demonstrates to us and call us to be agents of.

This is not for those who compartmentalize well, feel lightly, stay cognitively unaware of the suffering of others, while they contribute greatly to the world in other important ways.  This is for those who walk into a room and immediately know who's hurting, feel their pain with them, and feel a compelling desire to help alleviate it.

For those who sometimes get sabotaged in their ability to be compassionate by being...compassionate.

1.  Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.  Proverbs 4:23

It may seem strange to begin with an inward focus when we're talking about being outwardly attuned.  However, since those with compassionate hearts often forget where they end and others begin, it is essential to establish consistent, healthy practices of self care.  

We will not be able to sustain any kind of ministry to those in need, particularly to those in chronic, dire situations who have their own boundary issues, if we do not take the time and space to restore our own energies.  

While the proverb above is directed towards walking in righteousness, and not specifically about self care, it still applies.  Our ability to make honorable decisions about how we are interacting with people depends entirely on how nourished, rested, and restored we are as we care for them from a place of strength.

It doesn't hurt to add here the suggestion that we take the time to figure out our own needs -- for importance, for approval, to be needed, for example -- that may or may not be driving some less than healthy involvement, even as it appears to be loving and compassionate.  This may or may not require some professional guidance.  It's worth it, if it does.

2.  Do not give to dogs what is sacred.  Matthew 7:6

This sounds harsh.  But it is a warning to be discerning about what we are offering to some who will actually not be helped by our compassion.  Instead, more harm happens when we allow any individual to monopolize and drain us of resources, whether that's time, money or energy.  It is impossible to help someone who won't be a participant in their own solutions.  A whole lot of compassion fatigue is the result of continuing in a situation that never resolves due to the lack of effort or response from the person we are helping.

It doesn't take rocket science to see how chronically needy people and merciful empaths can often find themselves locked into impossible connections that are simply not going anywhere good.

3.  Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

The harder part is to choose to stay engaged in the suffering of others, even after you've been used or used up.  It's so tempting to decide that the best protection is to just wall up and keep everyone else out; run and hide; refuse to interact in any helpful ways just in case you get drawn in too deep again.  But there's no argument for that in God's instructions to us as to how we are to be on mission with Him.

Compassion is not optional.  Not for those who are intentionally in a "process to be formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (Mulholland).  Not if we claim to follow Jesus, Who's compassion took Him to the cross. 

As I said, right now I'm fairly confident that I'm operating within balanced boundaries, fully engaged where I'm called to be engaged, and leaving alone what is none of my business, except of course to pray and encourage and stay obediently available.

Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

 "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 
humility, gentleness and patience."
Colossians 3:12

The picture above, by the way, is not digitally edited in any way.  These are some hibiscus blooms poking through the fence along my morning route.  Maybe some compassion breaking through the fatigue to still offer what they can to the world.

But What About When I'm Making a Smoothie?

 

Patience is the space God gives us 

to grow into the masterpiece 

He has already designed.

Max Lucado

I like to think of myself as a patient person, but deep down I suspect that I'm not.

Because of the smoothie thing.

Likely, my own grandchildren would call me patient, mostly because the time we spend together has been very intentionally set aside just for them.  With this advantage, most of them say they have never seen me angry.  (With the exception of Zachary, now 17, when he describes that one last time he jump-scared me from behind a door after several long months of that being a 'phase' when he was nine.) 

I rarely if ever use the horn on my car.  I try to encourage the cashier when I finally get there after a very long wait in line.  I'm even pretty chill during the few times I've had to go to emerg and it's taken hours, since I used to work in a hospital and understand how the triage thing goes, and that there are impossible decisions being made on the other side of those double doors where treatment is being administered.

I'm patient enough then.

I can give people room to grow, forgive an offense several times over, and wait for answers to prayer, all in God's good timing.

But please don't watch me make my smoothie in the morning.  

For whatever reason, I seem to have very high expectations that this daily task should only take a few minutes.  But no.  There's not quite enough milk, so I have to change the milk bag, and it won't go all the way down to the bottom of the pitcher like it's supposed to without several thumps on the counter.  And then the scissors aren't quite sharp enough in exactly the right spot to cut that corner off nicely, and I'm hacking away at it.  And then it starts pouring out in a trickle but the weight of the full bag shifts and suddenly milk is pouring out over the counter.  And then every single avocado I've ever cut in half won't cut in half evenly, and the pit doesn't come out at all until it's suddenly flying across the kitchen, and the half I need for my smoothie slips out of the spoon at just the last minute, and man those things are slippery when you try to pick it up!  And the chia seeds are all jumpy this morning, half of them escape to the counter, refusing to be wiped away easily.  And then, finally I've wrestled all the ingredients into the bottle part of my blender, but the blades don't screw on properly the first time, or the second time, or the third time, for crying out loud!  And then when the blending is done, it won't let go of the base, and I have to pick it up all awkward and funny until finally there's the click.  And now the lid won't thread onto the bottle the first time, or second time.  Gaah.  And I go to pick up the straw and flips out of my fingers and rolls under the counter where I have to go get the broom to retrieve it, and of course I need to rinse it off now because it's been under the counter.  Gaah again.

I make a smoothie every morning. This does not happen to me every morning.  But it does happen often enough in various iterations of similar, minor unhappy happenstances all strung out in a row, that I begin to be convinced that all the components of my smoothie, the ingredients and the tools used, are actually sentient beings out to make sure I never get the day started. 

I am not patient then.  

And I may have fooled cashiers and medical folks and even my grandchildren, but I haven't fooled my husband.  He has to watch this happening in real time.  Unless, of course, he senses it might be safer for him if he just left me on my own for a while. 

So there is still work to be done in me.  A LOT of work.  

That's why I'm glad for my morning walks,

and afternoon rests.

And for Mondays that begin a week of lesser plans.

I'm glad for the space God gives me to grow,

and for His immense patience with me. 

For how He sees me for what I am becoming,

and loves me enough to help me get there.

Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

May all your smoothies live up to their name.

May your Monday be full of all the little spaces you need.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 

humility, gentleness and patience."

Colossians 3:12

This is another picture from my morning walk.  I love how the rising sun backlights the Queen Anne's Lace, emphasizing the spaces between the delicate stalks.  Maybe like the Spirit's movement within me, making space for me to grow.

When You're Not Sure a Volunteer is Working Out

 

This sounds like it's going to a post about ministry life or working for a non-profit.  But right now I'm talking about corn.

Volunteer corn, to be precise, which is a real thing for farmers, apparently.  On a farm, it's that corn that grows from a stray seed that lasted all winter and is now growing in the same field alongside a different crop.  Farmers don't like this.

My volunteer corn is growing in my front garden, an accidental contribution from the birdseed mix I've been using since the spring.  Two or three healthy-looking stalks have decided they'll offer their presence alongside the flowers in the little bed I planted in May.

Unlike the farmers, I'm not sure if I'm liking this.  Maybe I am?

On the one hand, this will grow very tall, is not placed in any pleasing symmetry, and will certainly draw nutrients away from the plants around it.

On the other hand, if I leave it alone, I can determine whether or not I actually do want some taller decorative grass and/or bushes in this space (a consideration in some of my original plans), and I will have some home grown decorations come fall.  Bonus!

I am still deciding.

Here's how it looks with the rest of the flowers.  Mind the mess around the edges.  I'm still doing some heavy duty weeding since we've been away for quite a while.

You can see there are three other smaller stalks doing a thing.  If anyone wants to offer their thoughts, I'm all ears (see what I did there?).

I do not for a minute think I'll get any actual cob from this, not for eating anyways.  It's the kind of corn they throw into a bird seed mix, not the kind that is tenderly raised for our autumn tables alongside the butter.  Still, it might be fun to find out?

Of course, back to the fact that my post title could indeed be an article about serving with human volunteers...

This too can be a problem.  In any environment, for any cause, volunteers are of incalculable worth.  Kudos and thanks and all manner of glad wonderment go to those who do not seek financial remuneration for all that astounding work that gets done in all sorts of sectors.

And.  There are those times when a volunteer seems to be out of place.  Could even be doing more damage than good.  Personality, or lack of experience, or just not a good fit, or unresolved personal issues can hinder the work, negatively affect the culture of the place, and even harm the reputation of a church or organization.  What then?

Pastor Lory Beth Huffman submitted a helpful article to Lewis Center for Church Leadership with a very similar title to this post (which, as 'corny' at it seems, I came up with before searching her out, honest), "When Volunteers Aren't Working Out".  I appreciate her insights, and leave it to you to check her out if you need to.

From my own experience of being a volunteer and supervising volunteers over several decades, I would perhaps add or emphasize two points only.

1.  Make sure volunteers are treated with respect and thanks, every chance you get.

This starts with clear expectations laid out, as much advance notice as you can on things, lots of clear communication, and proper training.  And pour out the praise when folks get it right.

2.  Be a volunteer that adds to the cause in every way you possibly can.

Show up on time.  Be faithful to commitments.  Bring positive energy and a Christ-likeness to even the most menial of tasks.  Work with your teammates as if they matter.  Say yes to opportunities that stretch you.

Basic stuff, I know.  Mostly, when I think of volunteers, I am just in awe of the outlandish generosity of the folks I've had the privilege to serve with.

As for my corn?  I will keep you posted.  We're not here for enough days to see any significant growth in the stalks before returning to the cottage.  But come September...if I let it stay, which I'm leaning towards right now...I'll post more pictures, just for fun.

It was a good day yesterday, the first back in the city for a bit.  Incredible weather.  And the holiday Monday was a like a little buffer before the rest of the week pans out in all its joyful-tasks glory.

Stay well, friends.

There's still a lot of summer left.

Rainy Worship

 

Psalm 65:9

You care for the land and water it;

You enrich it abundantly.

What better picture to post on this consistently-gentle-rained-out Sunday morning, than the asters who are, at this moment, singing profound gratitudes.

The rain has cancelled our outdoor service here at Cognashene Community Church, but it hasn't stopped the praises.  A perfect day to hunker down inside and breathe in the holy quiet of it.  I was scheduled to lead the service, but even at that, I'm glad for this.

Things have been so droopy outside our back window in that one little patch of underbrush that seems to suffer most in a dry spell.  Soak it in forest friends.  Take long unhurried draughts.  

And then there's Ken and I.

We will venture out in this quiet, steady rain, heading back to the city for almost two weeks while long time family friends rent this space, an arrangement going back two generations now, when Ken's folks owned this property.  

We're prepared.  It's not our first ride in the rain.  Just a fact of island life.  Everything has been packed and waterproofed accordingly.  And Ken even put the cover over the bow of the boat yesterday when it was still dry, so we will tuck everything under there for the ride.  And today it's raining but no wind to speak of.  

Back in the city...that's a thing.  There's enough to do to in prep for September's trip that can't be accomplished here in seclusion.  And people to see!  And next week, we'll be worshipping at Highview, and oh, what big gulp that will be for my soul! 

So yay for rainy Sundays when we need it so badly!

Yay for the opportunity to share the love of this place with long time family friends.

Yay for the incredible blessing of being able to spend the summer both here and there (there's no place like homes)!

Whatever your soul needs this morning, hope you are soaking it up! 

A Change In Pace

 [May] The LORD turn His face toward you

and grant you peace.

Numbers 6:26

Yes, I do realize that, in offering this blessing, today's picture is almost identical to the one I posted just a few days ago.  And actually, if I look at them, it's at about the same spot along my route around the island.

However, since it fits so well with my mood this morning, and also this last phrase of the Priestly Blessing found in Numbers 6, I'll gift it to you just the same.

I'm out on the deck this morning with barely a breeze.  There's a construction project involving stone saws going on across the little bay from us, and Ken is setting up our wood chipper as I write, so I can't really say it's all that quiet right now.  But this morning's paddle was on flat water for the entire way around.  Not another human sound but that of my own paddle pushing back the water in a rhythmic dip and soft swish.

It was a good way to start this particular Friday.

We will return to KW Sunday afternoon to celebrate Timothy's birthday, and then begin a little stint stationed in our city home.  Long time family friends have had an over 50 year tradition of visiting as renters in the place we now own but originally belonged to Ken's grandfather.  They will renew their love of this space over the next twelve days or so.  And, because there is still some outdoor work in progress for our little house on Sandra, and because it's good to take care of banking and errands and such, we'll spend that time there.

I'm okay with this.  Of course summer is short, and I am greedy for all the time I can have by the water as I can get.  But it will be good to get at some of the thrifting and other gathering I need to make sure gets done before I leave for Thailand in September.  Plus, I'm preaching at Highview on August 9, so there's that.  How beautiful it will be to worship together with my peeps!

I'm okay with this, but I am bracing myself a little for the dramatic change of pace.  Mostly, I'm talking about cars and driving and having to go places.  When you live on an island you get to indulge in that unique gift of having no where to go most of the time.  At least, it's a gift to me.  Some more extraverted folks may not embrace that part of our reality here.  But I crave it, soak it up, try to store up as much of it as a I can while I'm here.

I do intend to try to catch some morning sun when I get back.  Like this.

There's something about the breaking of a day to set you up for it in calming, reorienting ways.  I think it's because the sun reminds me of the face of God, too brilliant to fully receive, yet so graciously 'turned towards me' in ways I'll notice all the rest of the day, if I pay attention.

Happy Friday of the long weekend to you, wherever you or however your day has started.

Hope you can catch glimpses of the face of God turned towards you favourably.

And may He grant you peace.

Twenty Times So Far: Embracing and Balancing a Driven Personality

 

Twenty times around the island so far this summer.

My all time high was 36, but that was 2023 when the weather was in my favour, and we weren't moving and I didn't have my appendix out.

Truth be told, there's something in me every season that wants to beat that highest number; to push myself to achieve it.  If I make it to 37 this year, I'll try to do 38 next.  Like that.  It's that same part of me that, in its best form has helped me achieve anything I can count as an accomplishment over my whole life; any commitment I've had to see through; any project I've taken on.   A drive, a desire to do better, a passion to become all that God has called me to be.  This is good.

But it's also a part of me that can easily get short-circuited and end up being stuck on overdrive.  When that has happened in the past, it's caused me no end of angst, self-loathing, and no end of whacked out cortisol saturation, harming body, mind and soul in ways truly dangerous.

I'm sixty-nine, and by now I have had decades of practice balancing the two sides of this part of me.  I now see the tendency towards perfectionism as more of a gift than a curse, and have learned to celebrate who I am, and offer it back to God to use as He directs.

So for what it's worth, I'd like to offer a few what I hope to be helpful thoughts.

If they resonate, great.  If not, just pass it by. 

The desire to be perfect isn't in itself a defect.

It was such a gift when I sat with a therapist who reminded me that a deep desire to get things "just right" was a reflection of being made in the image of a perfect God.  This image-bearing component of the human soul can be seen in our capacity to love, forgive, and create.  And it is sometimes felt by some of us as a deep love for perfection.  Put the tips of your fingers together in a cluster up to you lips, then make a mmwaaa-kissing sound and open up your hand at the same time.  Like that.  We sure are glad when the people who build our homes, put together our computers, or do our surgeries are committed to that kind of perfection.  So if it's a part of who you are, yay!

Part of self-love is loving that you're human.

Embracing our humanity, in all it's beauty and potential, means also embracing our limitations and brokenness with the same grace and compassion we expect ourselves to show others. Nobody's perfect.  We all mess up.  We only have the capacities we have.  God knows we are 'but dust' (Psalm 103:14-16), a clear reference to the creation story and how humans came into being (Genesis 2:7).  Even Jesus - God with human skin on - needed to eat, sleep and protect time to be alone.  He understands.  It's okay if you don't get it perfect every time.  Honest.

Observing Sabbath rhythms is even more vital for those with more driven personalities.

Because God knows we're only human He built resting right into obedience.  As in, one of the Ten Commandments.  The humility of letting go of the need to produce, taking our hands off the wheel at regular, disciplined intervals, whatever that looks like in your life and schedule, allows us the essential space to be a human being, instead of a human doing; to meet with God in ways intimate and life-giving.

Don't be stupid.

The desire for perfection can often enough cause us to leave our executive functioning out of the conversation.  Like the one day late in a season when I tried to get around the island just one more time to achieve whatever goal it was that year, even though it looked a little windy even on our protected bay.  By the time I was out around the point exposed to the open water, I really had to pull and pull hard to keep myself off the rocks and get myself back to safer waters.  Not smart.  When we put our own well-being at stake, that's not honouring to anyone.  It's just stupid.  There's a way to be driven and be smart about it.  Think it through.  Listen to others around you who love you, until you can learn to listen to the voice of Jesus telling you to sit down and be still.  

At this point, some might be making a face that says, "Well, duh."  Sounds pretty obvious to non-driven personalities who have lesser temptation to try to beat last year's times around the island in the kayak.   God bless your heart.   

For those of you who do, who find yourselves setting big goals, and making strategic plans, writing out the lists, and not even remembering necessarily that it's summertime in Ontario right now...

Hope you get to lay low for a bit.  

Rest and enjoy the slower pace of life.

Don't stop being you, though.

The world needs what you bring to us, all robust and energetic and accomplished.

Monday morning folks!!

Hope the week brings good things, no matter what your particular goals might be!