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.

Wait a Second: I Need to Pull Myself Together

Every time I write, I seem to find myself in an ironic situation. I am in a bit of a hurry to finish this blog on "Slowing Down." Yesterday, I practiced with the Wholeness Tradition (yes, it is called by other names; next week I will explain why I choose to call it "Wholeness") by slowing down.  However, I am writing about yesterday on a day when my schedule is packed from eight in the morning until ten at night. I am feeling the pressure to hurry. Life never goes well when I hurry or when my schedule is packed. I have forgotten to pick up children at soccer fields and swimming pools. Every accident I have ever been involved in has been caused by someone in a hurry, either me or the other driver.  

Last week I slammed my head into this tree branch. The granddaughters were at my house, the dog needed to be exercised and then put into her kennel, and I was in a hurry. I quickly threw the ball for the dog; she retrieved it back and forth, and as I went to get the ball from under a bush (it is sometimes hard to tell who or what is actually doing the fetching), I did not realize I was standing so close to the tree. I whipped around like a tornado and found I did not have tornado powers. I flew backwards and hit the ground when I smacked head first into the branch. My hurrying only took more of my time as I stumbled around putting the dog into her outdoor yard, went inside to apply a cold wash cloth to my head (my mother's cure for all ills), and sat down to do an Internet check on head injuries (I was fine). 

As a mother of four children, I know the times come when moving fast and I do mean fast are necessary. Corraling four children when one breaks free to run into the street requires the skills of Superwoman. But I think those times are more rare than we make them out to be. So yesterday as I walked down the hallway, I slowed down the pace and my heart rate followed my lead. Again, aerobic exercise or cardio walking is the time and place to work on my heart; rushing because I am stressing does not lead to wholeness and wellness.

I had the opportunity to squeeze in one more activity yesterday, an activity I had been trying to accomplish for a couple of weeks. However, to do so would shortchange all my other activities and even hinder the additional activity; therefore,  I did not add it. 

The first image up above came from a blog written in 2011. I can not vouch for the rest of the posts in this blog since this is the first time I have ever read anything from it, but in this post, the author makes the argument that our busyness is destroying our relationships. It is a good read, and I leave you with the link here. Busy is the new fine -- great title, yes? Sad title, but oh so accurate. I think I will continue to practice slowing down today by ending here, in plenty of time to get ready for my next appointment. :D

9th Day? 10th Day? Failure Leads to Success

Ironically, I am posting about contemplation and wholeness just as the twelve days of Christmas move into a whirlwind of activity (ten lords a-leaping, eleven pipers piping, and twelve drummers drumming). No wonder most of us do not try to emulate the song. For those of us who have already celebrated Christmas Day (many Orthodox Christians will not celebrate until January 7), we are ready to take down the decorations, put the tree out with the trash, and be done with the holiday craziness.

I am persevering until Monday, January 6 which I have just found out is the 12th Day of Christmas. I have been off by one day apparently this whole time. Christmas Day is…well…Christmas Day, all on its own. I should have started counting on the day after Christmas Day. Now that I know, I can improve for next year's celebrations. Growth and improvement is what I am going for this year. The word I am keeping in mind is "Practice."

Practice one day; write the next. If all goes as planned (I write those words even though I know full well that events rarely go as planned), I'm going to practice six traditions or virtues.

On Sundays, I am going to practice Contemplation, specifically contemplation with God. Contemplation without God does not tend to lead to growth and improvement for me. On Mondays, I will write on how contemplation works out (and maybe I'll even keep practicing), but I will practice Wholeness on Monday. I think of these two streams of life as more internal.

Tuesday will be for practicing an Incarnational life where the inner life mingles with the outer life, while Wednesday if for Compassionate practices, practices that include social justice. So these two days are external.

Thursday and Friday will be for the distinctly spiritual practices. All streams or traditions are spiritual to me, but that is for another day and another blog. Thursday, I practice the Spirit-empowered life, and Friday is for the Evangelical life; although, those practices may surprise some readers.  

This year's adventures await me. Failure awaits me. I practice because I have never learned something perfectly the first time I did whatever I was doing, and basically practices are an accumulation of failures that help me learn until I succeed. (Look back up at the first image. Putting it into this blog did not go smoothly. I lost count on how many times I failed, but finally the moment came when the picture was here, without 5 inches of blank space and without gobbling up three other paragraphs.) As always, I am not practicing alone. I have a Helper. I have Emmanuel, whose birth I just celebrated, whose life I celebrate every day.