Legacy

(In memory of those yet to come)

When first you lift the pendulum arm

it swings wide and free

from East to West

the gift of time to adventure

explorations yielding treasure

and delight

The rhythm changes fractionally

stubble turning into beard

preferences becoming habits

comfort and familiarity

lure our restless hearts

nesting a vocation for bipeds

and avians alike

a lifetime marked by doorways

through which you’ve journeyed

n’er by the rooms you’ve occupied

When memory stumbles

words bind us

across the generations

photographs provide evidence

pixels amassed from halcyon days

vignettes infused with fables

remnants of a lifetime’s hopes

our biographies plumbed and tidied

When winter chases autumn

into the declining light

the pendulum swings tighter

its speed positing

an elder’s sense of time

finally acknowledging

our inability to transfer ownership

of dreams to those we leave behind

Each cadre writes anew

fresh thoughts upon blank pages

the prayers of ancients flowing

eternally surrounding

their kindred through the ages

their blessings everlasting

though hidden from our sight

Summer at Home

I've been sort of following a back-and-forth conversation over at the HoBD list for the past week or so. It's the one that emerges every so often about "Hate the sin, love the sinner," where that sentiment originated (not in the Bible), and the incalcitrance of those who cling to their positive conviction that they are right, everyone else is wrong, and God has personally called them to the task of proactively telling LGBT folks that they are Sinners with a capital "S."

From my point of view, the entire exchange falls into the category of "If you try to teach a pig to sing, you'll just frustrate the pig and get yourself stuck in the muck along with the pig." I am deeply grateful for my sisters and brothers who continue to argue the logic and love of rational thought and Jesus' Gospel, but I'm so over those conversations with people who have made up their minds while sanctimoniously hiding behind proof texting the Bible erroneously.

Meanwhile, I'm still reading my young motorcyclist friend's blog about his cross-country journey, which is about two-thirds completed. He's turned around and is headed back to the West Coast. The thing that strikes me over and over is how much gratitude he expresses for simple things like a good breakfast, a chance to dry off after being caught in a rain storm or to cool off after 100-degree days on the bike and the sharing of good stories and experiences at a 12-step meeting in a new place. His gratitude is simple and direct, unembellished and sincere - just "Thanks for the food. Thanks for the meeting. Thanks for the hospitality." I like that a lot. I like the simplicity.

I'm mostly at home in Colorado this July and August, that is, after the hoopla of the girls' Las Vegas wedding celebration the first week of July, this past weekend's trip to Memphis for an Executive Council task group meeting and next weekend's overnight trip to Chicago for an ELCA meeting. It takes me a while to get back into the flow of being at home.

As I have gotten older, it has taken a longer and longer time for me to change mentalities - from being "on the go" to being "at home" - and to get back into the "normal" flow of reading the mail, paying the bills and doing the chores. I am somewhat overwhelmed by the myriad things to deal with around the house, like the stovetop that is breaking down, one feature at a time, and the endless little leaks and issues with all the plumbing in the house and sprinkler system.

I suspect that feelings like anxiety, disappointment and resentment have a lot to do with the slowing down that comes with aging and too much experience. Multiple recent stories of friends and their loved ones' battles with recurring cancer and other ailments add to my sense of the fragility of life and my desire to be present to my friends. Those feelings just seem to be the unbidden accompaniment to many of life's experiences, no matter how hard we try to remain centered in a life ethos that is focused on love and the Golden Rule.

I'm in a period of discernment about whether or not to continue some of the activities of the past three years, because a couple of elections are at hand - standing for reelection to Colorado's Standing Committee and for General Convention deputy. Mostly, I think that I will probably stand for reelection, simply because the work that I embarked on three years ago is not yet done. But I also ponder my motivation to do so. I worry that I am being attracted by ego needs such as the need to feel important. I worry that whatever power is associated with such roles is an elixir that entices my ego. I worry that I am buying into my own PR, believing that "I" have anything to do with what work has been accomplished.

These are the things that occupy my summertime in Colorado this year.

Transparency and Leadership

What does it mean to be "transparent"? It's a concept that is bandied about a great deal when talking about organizations and leadership. Transparency in human interactions implies openness in communications and a willingness to let people see what is going on in leadership circles. Some leaders absolutely hate the word and its implications for how they go about their business. Those leaders tend to view transparency as invasive and burdensome to their process.

I believe that transparency and openness are good. From my perspective a leadership cadre can be both transparent and yet maintain confidentiality in specific instances, such as in personnel discussions and in strategies for product launches or lawsuits.

My proclivity for transparency as a leader arises out of a philosophy that shared knowledge empowers the community and that the converse is also true. Withholding access to information disrespects and disempowers the community, engendering anxiety that can easily morph into suspicion, fear and distrust. An administration doing excellent work can be brought low by mismanagement of its information dissemination.

Community relations is very much about perceptions and the attitudes displayed by community leaders and their communications cadre. A frequent perception is that leaders who do not practice transparency are paternalistic in how they choose when and how much information the community needs and "can handle." A comprehensive communications process would include sufficient educational pieces and resource links to set the stage for the information being shared.

People are curious about how the leadership circle operates. We want to understand what our leaders see and experience and the processes they utilize to arrive at their decisions. Just as young children ask "Why?" repeatedly, adults also ask the "Why?" question in their heads even when they don't ask out loud. It's the same curiosity that is shared by the many people who make the Discovery Channel documentaries and endless hours of C-SPAN footage staples of television. People want to know not only "Why?" but also "How?". People want to "see" for themselves, because seeing is believing.

Social media such as blogs and tweets are vehicles that every leader has the opportunity to use to share information quickly and widely. News stories "go viral" these days, mushrooming into broad circulation long before the type is set and the trucks have rolled out to deliver the newsprint. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that a significant percentage of votes are motivated by the perceived transparency of the candidates, especially in elections within nonprofit organizations.

So, dear reader, the challenge for all of us is, how do we encourage our leaders to be more transparent? In some cases the answer is legislation; we mandate that meetings are open and reports are made within deadlines. However, in other cases, the challenge lies beyond the effects of legislation. Certainly, care in nominating and electing the right candidates matters. Engagement in the political process, whether as a citizen or a member of a nonprofit organization, is required.

My observation is that the biggest challenge is, how do we encourage entrenched leaders, already elected and in place, to be more transparent when it's not their practice to be, because of their personality or philosophy? How do we, as constituents, live into our responsibilities such that we encourage and challenge our leaders to be more transparent without incurring the opposite responses of increased secrecy and disenfranchisement? If you have any answers, I'd really like to hear them.

Meltdowns and Mutual Accountability

Part of the commitment to being accessible and transparent (a misunderstood and much abused word in such contexts as this) as a leader involves a degree of self-awareness and self-control that no leader short of Jesus Christ, who is God, is capable of carrying off without periodic meltdowns. I had a meltdown yesterday at a steering committee meeting of a group that I highly value and whose members I very much admire for their intellect, involvement and service to our church community.

As meltdowns go, it wasn't all that bad in that I wasn't shouting, waving my arms, cursing or raving about the terrible state of the world. On the other hand, my criticisms were negative without being balanced, devolved into whining, and didn't proffer the hope that I usually have to share with others. Not exactly what anyone would label as leadership behavior, and for that, I did apologize and ask forgiveness and forbearance of the group today.

The reasons for my meltdown are many and the usual ones: mental fatigue, social isolation, working what feels like all the time (it isn't really all the time, but it often feels that way), too many simultaneous deadlines, being too much in my own head and getting too accustomed and comfortable with the compliments paid to me. Even for one who travels as much as I do, who meets and interacts with as many diverse people from different walks and places as I do, you could say to me, "You don't get out much, do you?" with assurance that you would have hit the nail on the head.

The work, even when it's for such vaunted purposes as the church and social justice, can become idols at whose altars we not only worship but immolate our best selves in a blindness that precludes stopping to share a meal at the dining room table instead of at the laptop, to laugh out loud at a funny video with the grandkids or to spend a morning at the local farmers market just because it's summertime.

I do recognize the need for me as a leader to roll up my sleeves to do the dishes and the laundry, to get down on my knees to scrub the corners and crevices of the bathroom floor and to spend time talking to people who not only don't share my perspective but who actually challenge my point of view and my motives. Humble actions build perspective and save us from believing our own PR.

To my colleagues' great credit, their understanding and forgiveness have been forthcoming, and I do thank them so very much. 'Tis grace, 'tis grace, 'tis grace, and it's nothing we deserve or earn, but everything that we hope and pray for.

It is the engagement of our mutual participation and mutual accountability that strengthens us as a body, as the Body. It's rather like sharing an aerie where we scoot around, making room for the one who's fussy, being careful not to scoot so much that we push one of our own out of that high nest. There's safety in the nest we share, where we comfort one another as we gather strength and renewal to venture out into the vast world. There's also mutual accountability in that we must call each other to our best selves and help one another hone our skills and our good humor to carry on when it's difficult.

More than anything else, we must especially help one another to remember the way home to the core values that ground us and send us forth anew each day. Forgetting who we are is the consequence of each day of living. Remembering is a conscious act that is fostered by those who love us. I will forever ask the question of myself from now on: how will I feed my fellows so that they remember who they are and to whom they belong? Remembering is a communal act that links us to our historical communities and to those yet to be born. In the Christian tradition, it is our Eucharistic act which we do to remember our source and our strength, our Savior and Redeemer.

Melancholy

Melancholy is defined as depression, a moroseness that robs one of motivation and energy, an enervation of a severe kind. And yet, for me, someone who has experienced melancholy in varying degrees over the years, it seems like melancholy ought to have a broader meaning than just depression. I much prefer its secondary meaning which refers to somber thoughtfulness, a pensiveness that takes one to places where one reflects upon loss and pain, loneliness and forgetfulness . . . and . . . and the intentional forgetting of the ones who are not lovely and not lovable.

For me, melancholy takes me to those places where I am in touch with the pain of people I must not forget, because in most instances, they've already been forgotten by the people who are supposed to love them, who are supposed to hold them in esteem and cherish them whether they've been good or lovable . . . or not. It's easy to collect lovers and good friends, to collect admirers and easy acquaintances. It requires a lot more effort and a greater will to collect the unloved and the unlovables . . . and convince them that they are loved and lovable . . . and to convince yourself that you have the capacity to love beyond the usual boundaries and circles.

It has been said that love is an act of will, and I'll buy that. But love is also an act of emotion, and it is the emotional part of loving that incorporates every part of who I am, who I want to be, and who I fail to be. It is the emotional part of loving that cuts through age and class and experience and really connects me to another, and that other to me. It is the emotional part of loving that feels like an electrical charge that sparks and jumps from me to you and you to me, and we both really feel it. It is a look, it is a gesture, it is a sound that isn't words, that might be only an exhalation of breath that says everything that needs to be said. Words fail us and become unnecessary.

Children should have parents who love them, unconditionally. Children should feel that they've been chosen, over and over again, and not doubt that they've been chosen, even when they misbehave. People should have families who are there for them, in the tough times as well as in the good times. Elders should feel included and their contributions should be valued, even when they become set in their ways and repetitious. No one should be made to feel like yesterday's castoffs. Pets should have the companionship and support of their people even when they get sick and old and the economy is bad. We must ask ourselves, I must ask myself, "What is my role, what is my part, in making love known, in healing the corner of the world that I dwell in?"

Today, I write to say let us not forget people like Jayne Peters and her unknown despair. Let us remember those who are alone and dying this night. Let us remember those who are lonely and fearful tonight. Let us remember those who are imprisoned and depairing in darkness. Let our chain of remembering be the network of human caring that redeems our shared humanity. Let us not stop here.

Money and Family

The news report back in March, 2010, said that eighty-something sisters Theresa Sokaitis and Rose Bakaysa were battling it out in court over a $500,000 Powerball jackpot. Apparently, the sisters had at one time agreed, in writing, to split any lottery and gambling winnings 50-50. Then, over five years ago, the sisters argued over a smaller sum of money, and that argument escalated into years of not speaking to each other, and then this, one sister suing the other for a share of the half-million-dollar Powerball prize. See here for the judge’s ruling in May. 

Money. Fights over money. I've watched families break apart over money, including my own. My mother's brothers and brother-in-law abandoned my mother's restaurant business to start their own restaurant on the eve of my brother's wedding in Hawaii. We had purchased first class tickets for Mom and Dad to fly from Detroit to Honolulu for the wedding, but Mom never got to go, having to stay behind to salvage her business and her livelihood. My father had worked and sacrificed for years to sponsor those uncles and their families to immigrate from Hong Kong to the U.S. I think those uncles broke my father's heart. I know they destroyed any feelings of affection that my brother and I had for them to this day. 

As a commercial lender, I used to talk to my customers about money, because it was important for me to evaluate the likelihood of those customers repaying their loans as agreed. A customer’s promise to honor his or her loan agreement boiled down to a capability to repay and a commitment to live up to his or her word. My due diligence as a lender in analyzing the financial statements, sizing up the business operation and reviewing inventory and collateral was only part of the art of lending. Weighing the trustworthiness of a customer depended upon building enough of a relationship to read a person’s character. This was lending back in the days when bankers were part of their communities and knew their customers in settings other than just the lending relationship. 

Walking away from money is something I’ve done a few times in my life. Like the time I got divorced and walked away with only my clothes and personal belongings, because the most important thing was to walk away with my sanity – more important than fighting over money and ending up being defined by the money that was won or lost. Of course, it helps to have either enough money so that you don’t worry about how you’re going to pay the rent or a secure enough job so that you don’t worry about your next paycheck. Ultimately, the greatest security is a sense of self-confidence that you'll be okay, that you'll land on your feet and be able to do what it takes to get started again in a new situation. As a more mature adult, I have had those securities. As a young adult, I had the security of family on whom I could rely, and assurance of that family support freed me to make choices and try “going for it” in ways that I otherwise might not have done.

Today, I think the money situation is tough for young people, because of the recent banking and market failures in the economy and the lack of jobs with decent wages coupled with the millennial generation’s valuing free time as much as hard work, expectations of a certain standard of living and the rising cost of healthcare. I know many twenty-somethings with college degrees who haven’t been able to land jobs with good pay and benefits. Even those with graduate degrees don’t necessarily do better in the job market. Many of my peers are helping to raise grandchildren and making room for married and partnered children to move back into their homes because of financial setbacks. 

Being flexible and adaptable is the key these days to making our families work. It’s probably also helpful to scrap any carved-in-stone notions of what families are supposed to look like and how they’re supposed to work so that we are nimble when our families come calling for help, as some of them surely will. Luckily for us, our family has been acculturated to think in terms of multigenerational living together and our younger generations having the freedom and welcome to float back and forth between the homes of their aunts and uncles for limited and extended periods of time. 

Raw Eggs

"Raw broken eggs... is there anything grosser? Maybe Karo syrup... shudder," tweets my daughter, Cecelia, and I am reminded of the time I sent her to elementary school with what I thought was a hardboiled egg in her lunchbox. Gasp! I hate thinking about the things I put my kids through, because I was inattentive and not fully present. 

I dare not begin a litany of all those things, or I won't be able to breathe tonight, much less attempt to sleep peacefully. I bet I'm not alone in my memories of things I did through inattentiveness and things I didn't do, but should have done, because I wasn't fully present to the people in my life at specific moments in the past. My victims were mostly my kids and my mother. They were the closest at hand and the safest, because they would still love me even as I did my dastardly deeds to them. Thank God that our children and our parents love us even when we don't deserve their love. 

I don't know about you, but I struggle with trying to be present everyday. There are so many distractions, from email and Facebook to television and paying bills, from commitments to volunteer boards and committees to time spent working on paying projects. It's not just being present that's a struggle. There's also trying to keep up with the chores in life like cooking, cleaning and laundry that tend to suffer as I surrender my time to other attentions that do not benefit myself or my family directly. 

I recognize that thinking the volunteer work that I do is more important than my family is a false value, and yet, I am part of a generation of women who have succumbed to that myth. Part of the seduction is the reward of accolades and genuinely making a difference in other people's lives. I remember a line from the theater production "Funny Girl" in which Fanny Brice's mother tells her that she now belongs to the ages. Sometimes my sense of self-importance sends that same message to me, and I erroneously believe it. 

I often think about the examples of people like Henri Nouwen and Mother Teresa who lived among the developmentally disabled and the poor, rolling up their proverbial sleeves and doing physical work. I am deeply aware of my need to live in and with my faith community at home, sharing in the everyday chores of maintaining our worship and ministry home, in order to be strengthened and renewed to go forth and do ministry away from home. It hits me every time I get a chance to land at St. Stephen's in Longmont as I did this past Sunday and worship with my parish congregation and hug and receive hugs from old and new friends. 

I suspect that part of an answer lies in the ability to rest in the Lord no matter where we are or how busy with life's activities we become. The image that arises for me is a home away from home, a home wherever I find myself, if I can just rest in the Lord wherever I am. So much easier said than done. So much easier to talk about than to find one's way towards, but a goal worth seeking.