Friday, August 17, 2012

Innocence, and Other Spells

Innocence can't be lost, it just has to be maintained. --Jewel

My daughter is headed to middle school in a week. In just days she'll move from the comfort of one classroom and one teacher into the sometimes mayhem of many classes. It's the stuff our anxiety dreams are made of: a mad rush to open a locker, knowing you're one minute away from the tardy bell and your class is on the other side of the school; the vast sea of tweens, all pushing past one another in the hallways, wrapped in a mix of smells that seems cauldron-concaucted--one greasy hair, one bottle of fruity hairspray, one stale gym sock, and two tubes of sparkly lip gloss. Can't you just see the wart-nosed witch clacking her eerily long fingernails together and laughing? "All together, here comes trouble. Watch my cauldron boil and bubble. Everything is different now. You're all mixed up, now go learn, POW!"

After the witch's big green spell-cloud clears, we're all left feeling a bit disoriented--kids and grown-ups alike. We Moms wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, convinced that our sweet, innocent baby is going to be swept up in the undertoe of this new environment and pounded by wave after wave of pressures. "They'll lose their innocence!" we worry. The truth is, they will be swept up and pounded by pressures from time to time. It's not easy being tween. They will hear and see things that aren't nice: nasty words, cruel bullying, occasionally exhasperated teachers, and those dreaded moments of being left out. It's enough to make a Mama's stomach hurt.

The great good news, though, is that awful cloud of anxiety, that hangs over our consciousness in times of big change, is not the last word. The witch's cauldron-vision seems so powerful because it's plays into our fears. But just because something feels powerful doesn't mean it's true. The truth is, while our kids may hear new words and see new hard things, they don't have to lose their innocence. Innocence has little to do with what happens to us, and almost everything to do with the lens through which we interpret what happens to us. True loss of innocence happens, not when someone calls us a mean name, but when we believe that name is who we are. True loss of innocence happens, not when we see someone get bullied, but when we witness it but do nothing about it. True loss of innocence happens, not when we're left out, but when we turn around and leave someone else out later on. 

In middle school, high school, or adulthood, maintaining innocence is the most  important work we can do. It's the work of preserving what is best in our souls, and in the souls of one another. We must choose wonder over efficiency; we must choose love over always being right. We must choose awe over cynicism. Ultimately, we must teach our children to look for the best in people, stand up for themselves and others in kind ways, and to surround themselves with people and ideas that nurture kindness and creativity. Maintaining innocence is the work of nurturing a supple and resilient heart--not allowing our hearts, or the hearts of our children, to harden in response to life's challenges. The witch is right, "everything is different now". We must go and be innocent. That's subversive, against-the-grain stuff. POW!

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Search Criteria

Suppose that a warrior forgot that he was already wearing his pearl on his forehead, and sought for it somewhere else; he might search through the whole world without finding it. But if someone simply pointed it out to him, the warrior would immediately realize that the pearl had been there all the time. --Huang Po

We search. That's what we do. We search for the right answer, the best solution to a problem, the best value for our dollar, the best place to live, and the the best information on how to raise our children. We are good at searching. We have Google and Pinterest at our fingertips--access to a wealth of free information. Our  smartphones allow us  to search for anything, anytime, anywhere, in an instant. This is revolutionary in so many ways. We can be connected, enlightened, informed, and guided in the touch of a button--unless we have AT&T...In all seriousness, though, searching for something has never been easier than it is right now. In fact, it has become so easy that we rarely consult our own consciousness anymore. The famous painting "The Thinker" might now be rendered with a smartphone in his hand. We rarely just sit in undistracted quiet and think anymore. Our knee-jerk tendency is to search first, reflect later...if there's time...unless it's our turn on Words With Friends...or after we have played a few rounds of Angry Birds. That time we used to spend being "bored" (which neuroscientists will tell you is actually when the creative parts of your brain are lit up like skyscrapers) has been held hostage by our need to be constantly stimulated.

So while we are communicating with several hundred people a day, pinning to Pinterest, posting to facebook, launching virtual bombs onto bird's nests, and finding the latest top-rated item in Consumer Reports while we wait at the drive-through, we are definately stimulated. We are definately informed. We are definately searching. But what have we found? In a constant pursuit of information, we may have run away from ourselves-- our hopes, our longings, our regrets, our priorities. We spend so much time checking in with the outside world, that we have forgotten to check in with ourselves. This is easy to do. In the moment, it often feels better. Reflection is not always an easy thing. It can be fraught with the pain of lost opportunities, broken relationships, and unfullfilled hopes. But pain is not always a bad thing. When we build muscles in our bodies, we are literally tearing muscle tissue so that it can repair itself. It's the repairing of itself (the scar tissue) that is stronger than it was before it was torn. Pain isn't bad in and of itself. It's what we do with our pain, and how we build ourselves back up after the pain that determines whether it will give us strength. This how is the most important part.

The how is not about the individualistic, pull-ourselves-up-by-our-own-bootstraps, need to be perfect and take control of our own destiny. The how is about surrender. For myself, I surrender to God, knowing that Christ's Grace surrounds me and upholds me, and intercedes with sighs and groans too deep for words even when I can't find words. One of the most important ways that that Grace finds me is through the hands, and eyes, and mouth, and ears of people whose hearts are softened by and attuned to Love. I can surrender, and let go of the "shoulds" and "shouldn't haves" on my journey, because my faith and my community are my companions on the journey. Falling down, messing up, letting others down, and letting myself down are not the last word. There is a wonderful book entitled Going to Pieces Without Falling Apart.  I love this title, because, for me, the deep-in-our-bones knowledge that we can do this when we have the right support, completely redefines my search criteria: Hope, Meaning, Relationship, Peace, Joy. We search. That's what we do. Let's not search through the whole world without finding it, because we are searching somewhere else. The pearl is right there on our forhead.



Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Peace Be With You (reflection on John 20:19-29)

I stand among you--
you who hide,
you who retreat
behind your bolted doors.
Peace be with you.
I am with you.

Under the weight of oppression,
bearing the pain of scars,
entombed in your fear--
Peace be with you.
I am with you.

Walk out of the cage
they have made for you.
The door is open.
Bear your scars,
Fear no one.
Even death is not the last word.
Peace be with you.
I am with you.

I stand among you
when they shut you out,
dividing you up into
colors, binding you with
their categories,
fencing in your welcome table.
Forgive them,
They don't know what they do.
Peace be with you.
I am with you.

The breath of the Spirit encircles all colors,
touches all in its path,
moves through fences.
Take. Eat. My table is open.
My bread is life.
My cup is poured out for you.
No one will be refused.
I stand among you.
Peace be with you--

Yes, even you Thomas.
Bring your doubt.
There's lots of doubt around my table;
I'll never shut it out, but come!
Touch my hands. Touch my sides.
At this table, no one hides their scars.
I stand among you.
Peace be with you.

No, it's not a feast of perfection here.
Take. Eat.
The food I offer makes you whole,
not perfect--
wholly kind, wholly merciful,
wholly welcoming, wholly present,
wholly forgiving. Take. Eat.

I stand among you, but I send you out!
Go out and stand among them--
ALL of them.
I will go with you.
Peace be with you.