Losing Things

Losing Things

No one likes to lose things. Toys, tools or remote controls, losing them can be quite painful or at the very least, particularly irritating. My four-almost-five-year-old son is espeically sensative to losing things.

Case and point: Tonight we were getting ready for bed a little later than usual (already the scene is set for a moment of lasting drama!). As we made the dauntingly long walk down the 6 feet of hallway to his room, he suddenly remembers that he wants a particular toy he hasn't seen in several hours. The problem is, the house has been packed with guests and finding the toy is no easy task. In fact, it proves impossible and after several minutes of searching all the "usual" places (behind the garbage can, in his sister's underwear drawer and all around the deck) said ninety nine cent toy could not be found. Suddenly my son emits a sound similar to that of a police siren. Ahhh, the true agonies of life.

Of course the problem with using your children as examples of something shameful is that more-often-than-not they come by their traits quite honestly. Ouch.

I was probably 7 or 8 years old, not much older than my son now. I wore a cowboy hat everywhere. I loved that hat. It was a great hat, one that I think I actually wore to bed a few times, a fact verified by the mishapen top that made it look more like a football helmet than a cowboy hat. I bring to your recall that I have brothers 7 & 9 years older than me and on this particular day it was my eldest brother who partook in my pain. He was actually being a good big brother when the "incident" happened. He and a friend were taking turns spinning me in the air by one hand and one foot when suddenly my hat went airborn and left my head.

I still see it today in slow motion. As I completed a revolution 3-4 feet off the ground, I can picture my precious hat floating through the air and heading towards the ground. But to my great dismay the hat didn't land on the ground. It actually landed in a ditch full of water. My brother tells this story with great distortion, but let it be said that windows were broken throughout the neighborhood and dogs were barking like mad when, simultaneously, the hat hit the water and my voice released a shrill cry! My hat was lost. Ahhh, the true agonies of life.

As we get older of course, losing things isn't any less traumatic especially since they usually are more expensive. Jewelry, car keys, wallets, children etc... These things are not easily and/or cheaply replaced. Losing things stinks.

Thankfully there are things in life we can't lose. The best of which is a relationship with our God and Creator. Once we step out in faith and embrace what HE freely gives us, there is nothing we can do that can make that relationship somehow disappear. We can't walk away and leave it on a park bench. We can't lose it on an aisle at the grocery store. We can't make a choice about our direction in life and leave that relationship like dumped garbage waiting to be picked up. Sure, we can lose the benefit of that relationship and we can, for a while, forget about the joy, but nothing can ever take the thing itself. Forever we remain HIS and HE remains ours.

I've lost a lot of things in my life, but I've never lost my God because HE won't lose me. Now that's a good life -- a life lived between the sermons.

Now, has anyone seen my car keys....

Perfect Imperfection

A lot of people like to flaunt their perfection about certain aspects of life. Pitchers who throw a perfect game (27 batters up, 27 batters down, no hits, no walks, no hit batters) are rare but esteemed men of baseball. This time of year CPAs and tax preparers all boast perfect records in hopes of gaining our business. It doesn’t take much looking to find some one flaunting their perfection in some field of expertise.

I am only human and I too have a field of expertise. I beg your pardon but I am going scream it: I AM PERFECT AT BEING IMPERFECT! It’s true. Autograph hounds prepare for the perfect imperfect card with my face and a fancy scribble that I call my signature. It’s coming to a collector’s shop near you!

The problem with perfection is that it requires a ongoing commitment to maintain. Do you think those supermodels with perfect bodies get that way by accident or by genetics alone? A little surgery here and there combined with highly paid well sought after nutritionists and trainers help make those naturally beautiful people...well...perfect. Perfect for magazine covers, designer clothes and Super Bowl commercials. Perfection is hard work and being perfectly imperfect is no exception.

For example. I could come home from work on most days, kiss my wife, tell her details about my day (you know how most men are about daily details!) and then listen for 30 minutes while she tells me about hers. Perfection would then require me to finish the dishes, set the table and wrestle with the kids while mom completes the meal. I would arise from the wrestling ring (aka: living room floor), wash up with the kids, and sit down to a perfectly calm meal where food is not seen as a projectile and where conversation revolves around a loving family, each member caring exclusively for the others.

I could.

But I am perfectly imperfect and in order to keep this one perfection in my life thriving, I work hard. Instead, when I come home, I kiss my wife and then check personal e-mail. I usually throw the kids around for a few minutes, but rarely set the table. I like to check sports scores for day games and then flip through the mail while my wife hollers from the kitchen something about dinner being ready and if I want to see my kids alive again I should probably help them wash their hands etc... etc...

You have to know my wife though, she is of the understanding type and she knows perfection isn’t easy, no matter how easy I may make it look!

Of course, my wife is VERY understanding but not of my particular perfection. Rather, she understands that I am actually trying to digress in this only perfection of my life and move on to imperfect imperfection.

It’s really not unlike owning a home. If you have the privilege of home ownership you know the blessing/curse I speak of. There are always projects staring you down and lists of things that need to be done, should be done, and if you don’t want to sleep on the couch for another night -- better be done (by Saturday!). No matter how many of those things you accomplish however, there are always more of those things waiting. I guess I am my wife’s house. A lot of imperfect traits, incomplete projects and needed ongoing maintenance but she loves me still and still keeps investing even after 10 years of nearly perfect imperfection.

I am thankful my wife loves me through my imperfections, but even more thankful my God loves me through my imperfections. Some of my favorite words in the Bible are about God’s unconditional concern for HIS imperfect children. Make no mistake, God is the perfect Father who doesn’t excuse or ignore imperfection, rather, HE uses imperfection as a teaching tool that leads us towards HIM.

Today I will work on my marital imperfections and maybe by tomorrow I will be just a little less imperfect than I am today. Maybe in a few years I will even figure a few things out and make giant steps towards my goal of being imperfectly imperfect. But as I go, my perfect God will give perfect assistance to this ever imperfect child.

And that’s a perfectly nice way to end between the sermons.

Laughter

When I think about the topic of laughter I can't help but think of the scene in Mary Poppins where the children visit somebody's uncle (I do wish I could remember his name). During their visit, the uncle sings the infectious song, "I love to laugh" and before long, everyone and everything in the room is bouncing around bubbling over with laughter. Laughter is, after all, somewhat infectious.

Laughter can also be quite reasonless. My wife and I shared one of those great tear-jerking moments of laughter over a little inside joke we share. I'd tell you about it, but you wouldn't get why it's so funny. Quite honestly, I don't get it but when the little joke is dropped at just the right time -- even when life stinks -- we both weep from aches created in our facial and abdominal laugh muscles. Laughter is, after all, somewhat medicinal.

I just returned from a week long trip with our church to Tecate Mexico. On the way back, during our 30 hour van ride (speaking of things that really aren't that funny) I told the story of an Irish preacher I once heard speak. He was talking about the Apostle Paul and about the hard life he had. The genre of this sermon would have placed it in the Drama aisle of the video store, yet through soon-to-be-revealed circumstances, I'll explain how I found it in the comedy section. The man is an excellent speaker and is masterfully engaging. His sermon progressed powerfully until the fateful moment he began to use the word pain. I believe the exact phrase was, "the life of the Apostle Paul was one filled with pain." My irreverent laughter began immediately. The secret to my laughter was found, not in the serious nature of the sermon, but rather, the unfortunate nature of accents. While the phrase, "the life of the Apostle Paul was one filled with pain" is not funny, the Irish accent made the phrase sound like this in my ears: "the life of the Apostle Paul was on filled with peeing." I couldn't stop chuckling as the phrases continued, "Imagine the Peeing of Paul"; "Everywhere Paul turned, he saw Peeing"; "Paul and Peeing were synonymous". Ok, I know it's rather juvenile (I do work with Juveniles if that counts) but I couldn't stop laughing. I actually had to excuse myself from the message and in a back hallway I laughed myself silly. Laughter is, after all, somewhat unpredictable.

There are a couple of authors (Twain & Keillor) and a couple of movies that have always evoked laughter from me. I find it very hard not to laugh at "What About Bob" and "The Man Who Knew Too Little". Both are Bill Murray movies and both use the same basic Bill Murray character. I can remember the first time I saw each movie and I remember tears streaming down my face through several different scenes. In fact, during the Man Who Knew To Little, I think I was the only one in the theater laughing for the first 30 minutes but by the end of the movie, EVERYONE was weepy. It truly is a classic. But something strange has happened to that laughter. I watched that very movie just a few weeks ago (naturally we own it) and again found myself laughing at parts. Predictably, knowledge of the movie makes certain scenes far less funny as much of the humor is captured in the spontaneity and timing of the moment. So if I already know the timing and already know the outcome of certain comedic points in the movie, the humor I find comes in the more subtle nuances of the interactions then in the actual moment itself. Laughter is, after all, somewhat temporary.

I guess that's the heartache of laughter. For a few moments we find ourselves doubled over in aching silliness, only to realize that the pain of those laughs leaves us with nothing more than a good memory and a few wonderful moments of happiness. My soul can't be sustained on laughter, it can only find momentary relief. The wisest man in the world said it best: "there is a time for everything...a time to laugh...a time to weep"

Laughter is temporary but there is something deeper that can't be taken away. In the book of Philippians the afore mentioned Apostle Paul put it this way: "Rejoice in the Lord always, again I will say: Rejoice!" Powerful words for a man who's life was filled with pain (please quit the juvenile laughter!). Powerful words from a man writing from a prison cell. Powerful words from a man beaten with rods, stoned with rocks, shipwrecked, imprisoned, abandoned, left for dead, starved, naked and on the run. Powerful words from a man whose life probably didn't experience a lot of laughter but whose soul was constantly nourished by joy.

I remember when Chris Farley took his life and tribute after tribute came out about his comedic career. Probably all of us have laughed at something that Chris Farley was in (my favorite was the SNL motivational speaker, character!). But after his death interviews and letters were produced that revealed he had a broken heart, a shattered soul and a very troubled life. Mr. Farley was searching for joy and found laughter as a temporary fix. But laughter wasn't meant to carry the day, but to make the day a little brighter. It is joy that lightens the dark corridors and opens the windows to let in the fresh air of life! Laughter is a song on the breeze that can increase our joy, but cannot produce it.

I guess if I had to choose, I'd pick a rough life with joy over an empty life filled with laughter. I'm just glad it is God that produces and promotes joy AND laughter and as long as we don't mistake the laughter for joy, we can enjoy the medicinal, infectious and unpredictable nature of a good joke, a fun movie, a great book or anything else that tickles the funny bone. After all, we should all experience a little bit of Laughoric peeing!

And that's life between the sermons (and sometimes during them, too!)