a little tonic

In a few moments I think I'm going to go and sew quilt blocks (and perhaps pictures will come later) but I have to comment on today's service. It was a good one. The person who's been filling the pulpit of late is a fellow professor and I knew him slightly before this but these past couple months have revealed a depth to his character I didn't know about. ("Everyone has something deeply interesting about them if you only pay attention")

He remarked that he already had the sermon mostly-written by the time the events (the police shootings of two African-American men who were not posing a deadly threat, the retaliation in Dallas from some crazed sniper, and apparently some other retaliations or attempted ones). He did note that next week (unfortunately, I will be out of town) the service is going to be oriented around peace and healing - in the sense of what we can do as individuals.

So maybe it wasn't *topical* but it did contain things I needed to hear.

But his sermon today continued the idea of freedom, but also that that includes freedom to examine, to question, and even to criticize. He quoted an essay that made the rounds (He attributed it to George Carlin, but my research suggests it was actually a minister named Bob Moorehead who wrote it, and I admit, it doesn't *sound* like Carlin to me). Anyway, it's called the Paradox of our Time.

It's possible you've read or heard it, and there are a couple versions out there. It starts off like this:

We have taller buildings but shorter tempers; wider freeways but narrower viewpoints; we spend more but have less; we buy more but enjoy it less; we have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, yet less time; we have more degrees but less sense; more knowledge but less judgement; more experts, yet more problems; we have more gadgets but less satisfaction; more medicine, yet less wellness; we take more vitamins but see fewer results. We drink too much; smoke too much; spend too recklessly; laugh too little; drive too fast; get too angry quickly; stay up too late; get up too tired; read too seldom; watch TV too much and pray too seldom.

And yeah, not all of that is strictly true of me: I neither drink nor smoke (though if you subbed in "eat too much sugar," I would probably cop to that). I do tend to spend, if not exactly recklessly, on things I don't strictly need. (I admit I sometimes mail-order things when I'm sad, partly because once in a while I just need to get something in the mail that is not a bill, a junk-ad, or a flyer from a politician). One thing I've complained of in recent months is that I laugh too little: I do tend to be far too serious.

And I don't read as much as I'd like to be; I spend too much time online and I also spend more time watching tv- especially the news - than is good for me.

But the "pray too seldom" thing struck me.

And it made me realize something: if ANY good has come out of the sadnesses and reversals of 2016? It is that I have found myself praying more, and at times I might not otherwise have prayed in the past - praying for people I care about who are in the hospital or otherwise having health issues; praying for people I haven't even met in person but who are in my online circle and who ask for them. Praying for the world in general - like I said last week, "Daddy, it's broken, can you please fix it?" Praying for guidance for the future (I think for now, though,  the answer to that seems to be: "Keep on keepin' on," it's entirely possibly my workplace has passed through the worst of what it will experience for now). Praying for strength or grace or whatever I need for my daily interactions. Because one thing I've learned is I may not be able to do much globally, but I can at least try to be a light to the people around me. And even if that's all I can do, that's better than being obstructive or unhelpful or rude or cruel.

He also quoted, I think it was Psalm 34? (I didn't catch the reference but that's the closest I get looking it up - I know a lot about the Bible but I still can't do the chapter and verse thing). About how we're supposed to live peaceful and holy lives. And you know? That's a good thing to aspire to.

And I realized something else: How many times have I complained of being "boring" or that I lead a "boring" life because I tend to be so consistent (Truth: some years back when a big Amtrak foulup meant I got back a day later than I should have, when I was not in my office at 7:30 am when one of my other colleagues arrived, he was concerned about me, and when my mother called him - I called her and asked her to call him, he was the only one whose number I remembered and I was running out of phone battery life - he was relieved because then he knew what was up).

But the flip side of a "boring life" is that it's peaceful. (And yes, it's possibly to be peaceful but unholy, I suppose, and I make no claims myself on whether I count as holy - or Godly, depending on your particular Christian phraseology - or not because I do not think I am equipped to judge). But there is something to be said for a peaceful life and maybe I just need to shut up about being boring and be grateful that I am, because there are things far worse.