Unrushed: The Way A Soul Is Formed

My youngest grandson Jayden has quite a lot to say.

He's already two and a half, so that shouldn't be any surprise.  But the way our summers go, it means I have lots of intensive time with grandkids near the beginning, and then only sporadic, quick hellos over the rest of July and August.  It's not until September routines begin again, including our regular Wednesday nights, that we really get to spend enough time together.  Because of the gap, I notice the growth spurts, especially when they're little.

And Jayden, over the summer, became quite the little communicator.

Two-word phrases, have become longer, more complex sentences.  "Put your keys here Gramma", he tells me, reaching way up and patting a little hand on the surface of the small table inside the door where Mom and Dad leave theirs.  "Come downstairs for the toys," he insists, taking my hand and pulling me along.  Bringing me separated pieces of the Playmobil stables he says, "Fix it, please."  And remembering something that happened yesterday his eyes get wide and serious as he recounts, "A big, black (said with a lot of 'l') spider on the wall!"  When I ask what happened to it, he says enthusiastically, "We slapped it!" (also with a lot of 'l').

Gone are the days where everyone was simply "beeping" (sleeping), or he would ask for "waller" (water), or he would point outside and ask to go "side".  (And to be honest, I miss the 'beeping' thing.)
Now he's a man with a wordy mission and isn't shy (at least with family) to speak his mind.

Within the span of just a few months, all this happened.  And with Jayden, as with the others who are now way too big in my opinion (Abby especially, since she's taller than me at 13), I just want it to slow down!

(Sigh) They grow up so fast.

Did I mention that Abby is taller than me now?

It's not how I feel about every  kind of growth, though.

This at-the-speed-of-light kind of transformation in toddlers is contrasted with another kind of growth that happens for adult me in what seems like excruciatingly small, slow (said with a lot of 'l') increments.  

I'm speaking of my soul.

I'm talking about my spiritual formation.

Why can't things like wisdom, just as one example, take the same kinds of leaps and bounds in a matter of months as Jayden's vocabulary?  Why is it that it seems to take so long to move on from the monosyllabic grunts of common courtesy, as another example, to the free-flowing sentences of fully-formed compassion?  And, irony of irony, why does it take so long to learn the syntax of patience?

And before you gently remind me to be as patient with myself as I expect myself to be with others (good advice, so thank you), let me get to my point; something I've been pondering over and settling into over the past few months as I press onward in this rich and demanding stage of my life.

The forming of a soul cannot be rushed.

Unlike the speedy language neurons in a toddler's malleable brain, connecting experience A with insight B in the spiritual realm often takes its meandering, pensive way through much messy meditation before any progress is evident in the living-out of life.

What this means is that I, and others eager to be all God created them to be, find it to be a slow and plodding thing.  Sometimes I get discouraged.  I certainly have in the past.  High expectations for everything, especially my speed of my spiritual formation.  Hurry up and get wise, you soul you.  Let's get on with the compassion thing.  When will you ever, ever have this patience thing down! 

But these days, in these rich days of my sixties, I think - I hope -  I am more and more inclined just to let it all take it's time.  At least it feels that way to me.  Because that's how the real stuff happens.  That's what gives it substance.  No person possessing wisdom, compassion, patience got that way overnight.  They've lived life.  They've engaged their pain and joy with equal passion.  They've been persistent and intentional about their soul-growth over the long haul.

This weekend Mom and Dad will be away, so I will have Jayden and the big kids too with me at our house.  No doubt I will have a whole list of adorable things they have said and done to keep tucked away in my Gramma's heart, and/or to write down so I won't forget them.   We're building memories.  And I hope they remember these weekends at Gramma and Gradad's.  I hope they remember the trampoline and having little plots of garden to themselves.  I hope they remember trips to the Dollar Store and eating ice cream on the couch while watching movies.  I hope they'll remember all that fun stuff.

But mostly, I hope - and I'm working on it so that -- what they remember is that, for all that, in the end, Gramma had an unrushed soul. 

Probably not what I'm best known for right now. 

But,
sigh,
it's a slow work in progress. 

Rear End Wisdom: A Two-James Story

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; 

then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, 

full of mercy and good fruit, 

impartial and sincere. 

James 3:17

Many things boggle me.

Math for one.  In fact I’m convinced that the part of my brain that does math died in grade four.   No math problem is too easy for me to figure out.  Makes me profoundly grateful for calculators, on line conversion charts, and a husband with an Honours Math degree.

Bridge for another.  I mean the card game.  Never caught on to that, despite my husband’s desperate coaching from across the table, and my in-laws’ dearest hopes that we could make a go of it.  Probably had to do with the math.

And then there’s computers.  How is it that I can be offline, up at the cottage where the connections are terrible even when I’m trying to be online, and yet, while in the midst of writing an important letter that needs to be oh-so-delicately worded, my computer, of its own free will, informs me that it’s shutting down so it can ‘upgrade’?  Who’s doing that?  Where are the upgrades even coming from if I’m offline?   And so, with boggled mind, I am held captive by unseen forces and compelled to rewrite that delicate letter!

One more.  Scheduling.  Particularly at this time of year, September, when everything’s getting back into gear.  You’ve got so many different moving parts, different family members, team members, all spinning around their own calendar orbits, and somehow you’ve got to make it all map out in a doable dance.  There’s quantum physics and there’s scheduling.  Like that.

Yes, these and many things boggle my mind.

But still, somewhere inside of me, I long to be wise.

This makes me very glad that being smart and being wise aren’t the same things. 

Not at all.

I confess to you these personal mind-bogglers at great risk.   Because I know that they make me look stupid and, just like everyone, I don’t really want to look stupid.  I want you to think of me as smart, or at least smart enough.  I know this is true of me because otherwise why would I sometime use big words I know I’ll have to explain, or mention that I’m working on my MDiv even when the conversation does not in any way require it, or talk about all the research I’m doing at the moment on the topic I’ve just worked cleverly into the conversation?  And you can be sure I’ll steer clear of anything in a social setting that requires math!  It’s called ‘image management’ and we do it all the time.  Maybe not about being smart, but about being popular or athletic or accomplished or special in any way that helps us look good in the eyes of whomever we might be with at the time. 

And right now I need to apologize because if ‘image management’ is something you haven’t heard about before and don’t think applies to you, in the next few days you’ll catch yourself doing it.  Sorry about that.  But we all do it.  It’s part of being human and needing to belong.

But it’s not smart.  It’s not even wise.

Purity.  That’s wise.  And loving peace.  That’s wise.  So is being considerate, and being submissive.  Wait.  Being submissive?  Wise?   Apparently so.  Right along with being full of mercy, and full of the demonstration of the good fruit (reminds us of the fruit of the Spirit perhaps – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, that fruit) of a life well lived.   And it’s wise to be impartial.  And it’s wise to be sincere.

At least according to James.  He’s comparing a ‘wisdom’ that’s full of envy and selfish ambition, and dare I say ‘image management’, to the kind of wisdom that comes ‘from heaven’, from God’s heart.

I know a whole lot of people who don’t necessarily have a lot of education, and aren’t particularly athletic, and may or may not have fashion sense.  They might not even be all that articulate come to think of it.  But if James’ list is accurate, they’ve got truck loads of wisdom.

Reminds me of another James. 

He stopped to make sure I was all right after watching me be rear-ended on a divided roadway.  I was fully stopped and the person behind me was distracted and ran into me at full speed of 60 km or more. 

James didn’t need to stop.  It was a divided roadway and he was completely unaffected by the accident.  But he pulled over and approached my car and talked me through that first hour while the police arrived and then my husband.  He was the first to speak to me, telling me he’d had a similar accident himself and instructing me not to move my neck at all until I could be assessed.  He called 911.  He dug out my phone from my purse and helped me dial my husband.  He kept me engaged in light conversation to assess my initial cognitive function and keep me calm. 

He was from Newfoundland, he told me, and a few other introductory facts about himself I don’t remember.  He even mercifully lied to me when I asked him to walk around the van to estimate the damage.  Ultimately the van was totalled, with the sliding side door pushed up far enough to prevent the passenger side front door from opening.  “You’ve got a bit of bumper work” was what he told me. 

And then he disappeared.  Ken arrived, the police had all the information, I was heading to the hospital to be checked out.  I know I said thank you.  But I didn’t have the presence of mind to get his information.   But I kept my neck stable, and later, with the additional help of the emergency doctor and my massage therapist, I made a full recovery from what could have been a significant, life-impacting whiplash. 

What a wise man, that James!  And I’m grateful, and if you’re out there and you recognize yourself, please know that I deeply appreciate your wisdom that day.  In purity you approached with no thought of any benefit to yourself at all.  You kept me calm and peaceful.  You were so considerate, and you completely cooperated with the police when they came, and went over to inquire about the other driver on my behalf when I asked you to.  Your actions were full of mercy and the fruit of a life lived well.  You did not take sides in the cause of the accident, that wasn’t at all in your spirit.  Just there to help me.  And I remember you as being just a kind and sincere man, James.  Thank you so much.

I long to be wise. 

That kind of wise. 

So boggle my mind with quantum physics. 

So be the mysteries of the universe. 

But it’s actually really quite simple to be wise like James. 

Both of them.