At Least I Remembered to Take a Picture This Time

At least this time it's only hash browns which exploded all across the counter and floor, and it's not shattered glass. This time I was trying to break apart the hash browns that were frozen in a solid mass. Again, my first attempts did not result in disaster so I kept whacking the bag against the counter to break up the last solid pieces. Then, the bag exploded. 

I write this because, really, aren't most of our days (at least for those of us in countries with frozen hash browns easily bought at the grocery store) filled with mundane tasks, some of which go astray? Maybe you don't have as many kitchen mishaps as I do, but it gives you something to chuckle about. Or, the stories resonate with you: "I've had days like that." 

I write to lead me into deeper ways of thinking: I've realized that I multi-task when I cook. I like food. I somewhat like to cook. But, it's not a priority enough for me to focus on it. This, in turn, led me to think what my passions truly are, what do I focus on. 

I write to encourage others. In my last blog (see "shattered glass" in the first paragraph), I wrote about the opposite of loneliness: friendship. Friendship, whether with God or with others, involves "(1) spending time together, (2) learning about the other, (3) being honest and transparent, (4) learning to be a good listener, (5) allowing for changing and maturing views of the other, and (6) learning how to enjoy being silent together" (Gary Moon's forward in Trevor Hudson's book Beyond Loneliness as Moon quotes *James Martin's insights from **William A. Barry).  

Social media can not replace the face-to-face time, but it can be, when used in encouraging ways, be a moment in time where we can feel that we have been seen and heard and loved. I so appreciated the give and take when my own daughter posted her "When Days Seem Hard" It was just what one mom needed to hear so that she could pick herself up and begin again. 

Loneliness can't be cured by social media, blogs, etc., but I hope I can use technology positively to invite myself and others into a friendship with God (the great thing is God is available during poopy diapers, academic meetings, traffic jams...in other words all the time), and into exploring ways of friendship with three-dimensional people (did I choose the right term...lol...geometry was never a focus of mine). For me, it takes intentionality. To not give up when lives seem so busy. To look at my schedule and see where I can give up something simply time-consuming and replace it with friendship. I'm interested in the creativity used by others to build friendships (so feel free to comment), and, if you're interested in an online Beyond Loneliness online community (not as a substitute, but as a starting point), here is the link to the book club. 

*The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life by James Martin, SJ
** God and You: Prayer as Personal Relationship by William A. Barry, SJ

The Opposite of Loneliness

Lately I've been exploring loneliness. Some experiences come unbidden, but this one came by way of a book club...or so I thought as I read the opening pages: loneliness of leadership responsibility, loneliness of superficial relationships, loneliness of depression, loneliness of loss, loneliness without a face. Check and double check. Ready to take a quiz. 

All academic until I rode home after spending four days with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandson who live seven hours away from me. 

What a beautiful picture this is of community, fellowship, friendship IF it goes beyond the picture taking moments, right? Two days after this picture was taken, I had all those traveling hours to realize the loneliness of the loss I was experiencing. To be away from this family meant being with sons and granddaughters; to be with this family meant loss of time with the other family members. 

I've been learning lately how to ask questions of God rather than telling God how to run my world (imagine that!). So, I asked. And, I received: Be grateful. Yes, gratefulness did lighten my heart. Yet, what about the loss that can not be lightened by a visit: death of a loved one, death of a situation. So many thoughts came flooding in. And, God said, "Sit with me in it." 

Sit? Do nothing? It's not "doing nothing." To sit with God is to sit in friendship. To sit being heard, being seen, being understood. That, I think is the opposite of Loneliness. Not as an Internet search gave: "popular", "sociable" as the opposite for "lonely" (several sites had no antonyms for "loneliness"). One site "got it": "companionship" is the opposite of loneliness. 

I realize now how my world opened up when I sat with these thoughts. I see the value of the closing words of encouragement from my teacher, Trevor: "Admitting our loneliness, whether it has a face or not, can be liberating, hopeful, and life-giving. That's why I encourage others to face their loneliness and to be honest with themselves. At the beginning of this chapter, we imagined Jesus walking the streets where we live and saying, "Come to me, all you who are lonely, and I will give you friendship" (30-31). 

The Parable of the Shattered Baking Dish

This is all I have left of my baking dish -- one small shard that I found a week after I broke it. Actually, I shattered it into thousands of tiny pieces. Originally, it looked a lot like the baking dish pictured below. 

If I had a photographer's mind, I would have taken a picture of the aftermath of the dish's destruction: glass all across the stove, the counters, the floor. However, I was barely able to control my dismay let alone the dog who wanted to see what the explosion was all about. Instead I have a teacher's mind, and I thought: God, there must be a lesson in this. 

Of course, there was an obvious scientific lesson: Don't pour water into a hot dish. I actually knew that lesson, but I had poured a little bit of water and nothing disastrous happened. I had finished baking some squash, taken it out of the pan, and wanted the remains to come up easily. I poured a little water in and all was well. I poured a little more. Everything was lovely. Until it was not. I poured one smidgen of water too much and the dish exploded. I've broken dishes before. This was not just a broken dish. Teeny shards of glass flew everywhere. 

A second obvious lesson was the one where I got away with a little something I knew was wrong so I kept doing it until that awful moment when it caught up with me. However, that wasn't the life changing lesson. 

As I looked at the thousands of broken pieces, I realized no artist no matter how gifted could put my dish together. 

The caption for this artwork reads: "the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken." 

There are times in my life when this caption fits and it's a beautiful reminder. Yet, my heart went to thoughts of time and people where their "dish", their lives, seemed shattered beyond all repair. It made me weep until a series of "random" occurrences caused me to think about how God transforms. He is able to gather thousands upon thousands of broken pieces and make us new. We are still us. If I had gathered up all those pieces and instead of throwing them in the trash, I had melted them all together, all the particles of that dish would still be there. In like fashion, each of our unique DNA is still there. My pieces of shard still had some squash juice on them, and I wonder "Does God clean up every little shard?" That's a lovely thought. Or, does some of that become a part of us so that we in turn can love, comfort, and help others who are broken? 

These latter lessons carry me past weeping into hope. 

This song also came to mind, and I close with "Broken Vessels" by Hillsong.