Finding a new "normal"

Telepathic communication: the latest trend?

Very often, when local and U.S. news sources seem dry or redundant, I go the BBC news online to see what our cousins “across the pond” are reporting as newsworthy. Such was the case today.

While browsing bbc.com, I did run across an intriguing report. But before I share that, I’d like to make a connection to something that happened yesterday.

I go to the salon only once a quarter to get my hair professionally cut and styled. Since these visits are so far apart, my hairdresser and I usually spend around 90 minutes together. We generally talk the majority of that time, catching up on life since my last appointment.

Her big story to share with me yesterday was a recent trip to Vegas for the Redken hair show. I inquired about the show and asked her to explain what they do there. For the most part, she explained, they predict trends for the coming year and show techniques and products to support those trends. My immediate response was that, rather than predicting trends, these companies (who sponsor hair shows and similar shows) are actually setting trends due to the context of their “predictions” and the suggestibility of the market.

Later, as our time together was coming to an end, I told her I wanted to ask her something, but not too loudly: “If you were to leave this salon, would you have access to my information so that you could let me know where you are?” She replied, “Are you inside my head?”

Now, we can return to the BBC story. As part of their Future series, “Will we ever …,” today’s article is titled, “Will we ever … communicate telepathically?” It opens with the story of a man in a Harvard lab who sends a mental message to a rat, detected by electrodes and processed by a computer, causing the rat to wag his tail. There are other tales of rat-to-rat brain wave communication, facilitated by computers. The point is, it seems to be working. Of course, the looming question that accompanies these technologies is “How far will we go?”

It seems obvious to me that these efforts are not only predicting future trends, but are in fact creating future trends in technology. Where there is enough interest to invest in research of this kind, there is also a plan to implement it. If you Google the question, “What will replace the internet in the future?”, you will see predictions that brain-to-brain communication — linked by computers, of course — is the future many foresee.

Communication is hard enough as we engage our minds and bodies in an effort to say something to each other that is honest and loving and worthwhile. Can you imagine your thoughts being broadcast, filtered only by an external computer?

I suppose there are times I’ve wished someone could read my mind. As a writer, I love to share my thoughts. But, as a spiritual being, I hope my brain remains disconnected from the WorldWideBrain.

What do you think? Oh wait, I already know.

Why history is important

History is the only class I’ve ever failed. Seriously. It was the summer of 1984 and I was enrolled in a history class that met every weekday at 8:00 a.m. I might have made it to three classes the entire session. (I remember waking up around 11:00 in the morning, having had a vivid dream that I was in class …) The ungodly start time, coupled with the fact that I found it atrociously boring at the tender age of 17, deprived me of any motivation at all to attend. I couldn’t have cared any less than I already did about history or that class.

Since those reckless days, I have grown up and learned a lot about the importance of knowing what people before me have experienced, learned, and accomplished. Knowing history allows us the luxury of not having to reinvent the proverbial wheel. If we’re smart, we look at history and learn not to repeat the same dumb mistakes. At least, that is our hope.

I grew up in a Baptist church, but I really never learned anything about Baptist history and tradition. I knew about missions, and my dream as a child was to be a missionary in Spain. (I figured we could get there quickly by boat from my home along the coast.) I participated in GA’s and I sang with my mother for revival meetings all across our northeastern North Carolina region. No one ever told me about the earliest Baptists who fought and died for the separation of church and state or taught me what that meant. As a matter of fact, where I grew up, there wasn’t much of any separation of church and state. We prayed at school the same way we prayed at church. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance at school and sang “America, the Beautiful” at church. I was a Baptist, but I had no knowledge of what that meant in a denominational sense, other than that we “get dunked.”

In light of the recent attempt in North Carolina to pass legislation that would allow our state to establish a state religion – and my attendance at a private Baptist university – I looked online for a Baptist historical perspective on the subject. One article by Bruce Gourley seemed to speak to my experience. The concept of Christian Nationalism isn’t new at all for me – and likely not for anyone who grew up in an evangelical religious culture in the rural South. For those of us who are Baptists, however, it strikes me as being extremely important to understand how certain ideas and sentiments crept into our practice of faith and how some of those ideas are entirely un-Baptist.

For those who are members of Baptist churches, here is a link to a biography of a man who shaped our denominational beliefs and established the first Baptist church in America: Roger Williams.

It’s a free lesson in Baptist history. And you don’t have to attend an 8:00 a.m. class to learn it. You’re welcome.

The darkest day

I suspect the desire to avoid pain is one of the most universal human traits. It’s the reason we don’t like dentists or vaccines. It’s written all over our faces as we walk across parking lots or down streets in mid-winter, braced against the biting wind and the chill that sinks into our bones. It’s the reason we don’t know what to say to someone who is grieving a significant loss in his or her life. We don’t know what to say or do because, to know, we would have to allow ourselves to enter into that same painful setting, and that is not something we are willing to do voluntarily.

The avoidance of suffering is one of the main tenets of Buddhism, which teaches its followers the way to overcome desires and, as a result, to reduce suffering. In Christianity, however, Jesus modeled suffering, which we, his followers, understand to be a time of spiritual growth and transformation for us.

Still, Christians, like most humans, prefer to avoid suffering. Even in the ultra-important story of Holy Week, we tend to skip quickly over the crucifixion so that we can celebrate the resurrection. The death of Jesus is painful to retell and, since we know what happened early Sunday morning, it isn’t something we allow ourselves to experience as grief. But we should.

I think it’s safe to say that, generally speaking, people who won’t dwell on the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and death also don’t allow themselves to experience the process of grief fully in life. It is extremely frightening to feel so hurt, so abandoned, so angry, so confused, so out of control as we might feel when a loved one dies. It is also extremely unhealthy not to allow yourself to process those inevitable feelings – whether it’s the loss of someone through death or some other significant loss. Culturally, we do not embrace physical, emotional demonstrations of grieving. Sometimes, however, whether publicly or privately, these expressions are not only appropriate, but are quite healthy.

Today represents the day between Good Friday and Resurrection Day in Holy Week. It is the darkest day. There are no signs of life. There is no sense of hope. Anywhere. There are only questions and doubts and anger and fear.

If we allow ourselves to sit with the emotions produced here, we also allow ourselves to make connections to painful life experiences and unresolved grief. A profound truth taught to me by my counseling professor, Dr. Mac Wallace, came with one simple sentence: “Pain, buried alive, never dies.” If we acknowledge the painful things in our past – name them and allow the feelings they produce to affect us – then we begin to move into a place where transformation and healing can take place.

Don’t be afraid of the darkness of this day. Instead, take this opportunity to do some of the preparatory work necessary for newness and wholeness to come into your life.

Me vs. DST

Every year around this time, I struggle with the onset of Daylight Savings Time (DST). Somehow, this change to our national clocks represents far more than one measly hour lost – or gained, depending on your perspective.

For those with a positive view of DST, it represents a gift that keeps on giving. Every evening, beginning with the first Sunday of DST, these happy people celebrate an extra hour of daylight by taking walks, working in the yard, or otherwise enjoying the outdoors. (Imagine smiling faces, couples strolling hand-in-hand, games of croquet, fetching dogs – all in dramatic slow motion.) You get the picture … and don’t miss my rolling eyes.

For those with a less-positive view, DST represents a stolen hour, robbed under protest and flaunted every morning as we are forced to rise from sleep and begin our workday in the darkness of pre-dawn. This cruel distortion of time lingers in our bodies throughout the rest of the two impacted seasons like a chronic case of jet-lag, leaving us tired and irritable with one daily dream: to catch up on our sleep.

I haven’t done a formal study on this, but my theory is that those of us who despise DST are more concerned with the way things begin than the way they end. We are cyclical thinkers who see most everything occurring in cycles. If a cycle begins badly, then it recurs badly. If it begins well, then it has a better chance of being good when it comes back around.

On the other hand, those who love DST are, in theory, more interested in endings than beginnings. “All is well that ends well.” These are more linear thinkers who see things with set beginnings and endings. Every day is a chance to start again. And a good ending signals a good day.

To unpack that a bit more and put it in different terms, as a cyclical thinker, I don’t really see relationships as having true endings. For me, once you know someone, you always know them. Some of my relationships cycle back together often and some only rarely, but I don’t ever see a relationship as having ended. (I don’t even believe death ends relationships entirely, but I won’t follow that thread here.) To a linear thinker, relationships begin and they end, then new relationships begin. If an old relationship is re-established, it is seen as a new beginning and not as a continuation from the previous relationship. These would be the friends who say, “That relationship is over, now move on.”

If you look up the concept of linear thought versus cyclical thought, you’ll discover this is a very old discussion. I just might be the first one to relate it to DST.

Rather than to fight about it or struggle through it, perhaps the best answer for someone like me is to move closer to the equator. It would be the best of both worlds, really: days are longer than our North American winters, yet shorter than our North American summers. Plus, it’s the equator – the biggest circle we have on earth! (Don’t tell me you call that a line.)

Enough for today

Trouble never seems to show up alone. Like misery, trouble loves company.

“When will it get better?!” one of my dear children asked me in exasperation today. I wish I could give a more encouraging answer, but my only honest answer is this: The one thing we can count on is change. If things are going very badly now, they will eventually get better. If things are going great, then buckle up because something difficult your way cometh.

I’ve written a few times about how imperfect our joy is here on earth. I don’t plan to beat that dead horse again. I do think it’s important to point out that, many times, in the middle of trouble, something wonderful walks in with it. I could share a few examples of how that has looked in my life, but I’d rather not spoil your own process of remembering how it has looked in your life. You know, you lose something you really thought you wanted to keep only to discover that, had that disappointment not happened, you would have never found this other thing that suits you so much better! It could happen in the context of jobs, favorite activities, or relationships. The point is, when a whole lot of trouble walks into your life, keep your eyes peeled for the Wonderful.

When trouble swirls around us, it’s easy to feel worried about how long it will stay around. Individual troubles can seem far worse when paired with other troubles and that perception tricks us into feeling hopeless. Trouble is like a virus – it can wreak havoc while it’s around, but it does have a lifespan. It will go away.

Of course, there’s always another trouble waiting to take its place.

Jesus is recorded in Matthew chapter six as saying, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” What is it about trouble that makes worry its constant companion? Why is our worry activated instead of our faith in times of trouble? Worry is far more concerned about tomorrow than faith is.

Faith finds contentment in the grace today brings. Faith knows trouble will come, but knows more how to see the Wonderful in its midst.

Beating triskaidekaphobia

From high-rise buildings without a 13th floor to Emergency Departments that skip Bay 13, a lot of us prefer to skip the number 13 altogether. When it comes to calendar years, though, no one ever established the leap year to avoid ’13 and appease the triskaidekaphobes.

I’ve always had an innate interest in numbers. As a musician, I can easily associate skills in music with skills in math. My only mental link to the concept of eternity is to associate it with numbers – the eternal continuum of numbers in two directions. As a Christian, I’ve always linked the number 3 to the Trinity, 12 to the tribes of Israel, 40 to the wandering Israelites in the desert … and somehow the number 13 has always joined the list as “unlucky.”

Anyone interested in the history of assigning 13 as an “unlucky” number can read about it online enough to get the idea that it’s a very old custom. I agree with the builders who are re-incorporating 13 into construction designs. When I was a sales director with Mary Kay Cosmetics, I learned that Mary Kay Ash was a fan of the number 13. She thought it was lucky and started her business on Friday, September 13, 1963. (I admire her for many other reasons, but I like this in particular.) We have traditionally given 13 a lot of power as “the” unlucky number.

For whatever reason, I always thought of 8 as my “lucky number.” I don’t remember how I arrived at that initially. “8” has disappointed me many times, so I sort of let that whole idea go. I was born in 1966, but not in the sixth month, so I was always happy about that. I suppose it would have been comforting to have been born in July of 1977, but that wasn’t meant to be for me.

When 2012 rolled around in the calendar, I didn’t blink an eye. What could be wrong with 2012? It seemed harmless enough as it began, and my family had some wonderful things happen in the early months of 2012: a college graduation, a beautiful wedding, the first grandchild! Weaved into that year, though, was one of the most painful things I’ve endured in life: divorce. As a country, we have endured some really challenging experiences, too. Just think about it for a minute. 2012 has been a wonderful, terrible, victorious, defeating, celebratory, mournful year. I don’t know whether to put it in the “good” or “bad” category!

So, now comes 2013. I’m not afraid of 13. I’m rather ambivalent about the number but I’m hopeful about the year. I pray for God to bless us in 2013, just like I do every other year. And God does bless us, even in the most difficult years. I suppose we think being lucky means having only good things happen to us. I’ve lived long enough to see that good and bad often tag along together. I feel lucky when my child wins two toys at once in the claw game and I feel loved and blessed when great things continue to happen for me and my children in the middle of my biggest disappointments.

Do you create slogans for each year to motivate yourself toward new goals? “See and be seen in 2013!” (Maybe not.) “Healthy and lean in 2013!” (Some of you might like that one.) “Eliminate mean in 2013!” (I wish.) 2013 may or may not be lucky, but I do pray for love and blessings for all in this new year! Hope beats luck every time.

When “why?” is impossible to answer

I can remember several days in my lifetime when something so tragic happened somewhere in the world that all I could do in response was to cry about it. In a relative sense, the events happened to people far away from me and my everyday routine, but their story somehow reminded me of my own and, because of that bit of familiarity, I realized that it very easily could have happened to me or to someone I love dearly. Yesterday was one of those days.

The moment I drove into the carpool lane of my first-grader’s school, I imagined the scene at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut. Not even for a full second could I imagine what it would be like to hear that my own child had been tragically killed while at his school. Even that thought for a fraction of a second brought me to sobbing tears. I imagined at that moment, that perhaps my tears could somehow share and relieve the burden of immense pain that was the reality for those families of children and adults who were killed in the Connecticut school tragedy. I prayed that it could be so.

There have been other school shootings that brought the same painful feelings: Columbine and Virginia Tech, for instance. Then there was the movie theater shooting this year. Otherwise, I remember the numbing grief that I and so many others felt after 9-11 in 2001. In this Information Age, we clamber for the facts as these news stories surface. Even when we can’t get the full story up front, we receive the bits and pieces as they come in and begin to stitch them together. We busy ourselves answering the question, “What happened?” while the answer we really seek is to the question, “Why did this happen?” It becomes obvious that our attempt to answer the “why?” question is really an effort to somehow control events in the future to prevent anything similar from ever happening again. After seeing several of these events unfold, it seems clear that we won’t ever be able to fully prevent them as long as life exists on earth as we know it. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to find and take preventive measures, though.

As a mother and a children’s minister, my thoughts quickly turn to the questions and reactions of the children in my care. How on earth can such evil be explained to an innocent child without destroying his or her sense of security and trust? Having three children of my own, I am keenly aware that each child responds differently to the same situation and that children can surprise us with their profound perspectives that many times, in comparison to our own jaded perspectives, sound more like wisdom than our grown-up conclusions often do.

The mistake I think parents make most is that we tend to believe that our children require answers from us to all the questions in every situation – even those situations for which we can find no answers. Another common mistake is that parents don’t really listen closely to the concerns their children actually express. Instead, we tend to say things in the midst of difficult situations that attempt to answer our own questions or discomforts, and many times it comes in the form of pat answers and clichés. These approaches are equally unhelpful in my opinion. I believe it is most helpful when we express our own pain and grief honestly without trying to answer the unanswerable.

In our state of vulnerability, we remember our humanity. For those of us who profess faith in God, we also remember His divinity and the broken-ness of our world. In tragedy, we have a unique opportunity to demonstrate true faith to our children. We do this, not by having the answers but by grieving openly while placing our hope for mercy and comfort in the God we don’t see. In moments when we look up from our grieving we begin to see God at work in the middle of a tragic situation through the courage of a teacher or the prayers of a child or the unspeakable peace of a father who has lost his only son.

As we begin to process our own grief, it becomes apparent that tragedies of this magnitude do not happen only to those unfamiliar, faraway people who are directly affected. These tragedies are our very own. The impact of loss is felt immediately inside us. Also inside us, we sense God nudging us toward others who need our help. We pray for those who are hurting and then do something to help those who might cross our path. When we can’t give answers, we learn to give ourselves. And pray. “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

The real meaning of Black Friday

When I was growing up, my dad ran a retail furniture and appliance business. One of the lessons of retail he taught me was that “you can make your week in one day, your month in one week, and your year in one month.” In other words, retail income isn’t a steady, consistent, reliable flow – and it can sometimes feel like feast-or-famine. The point of knowing that is to discipline yourself as a retailer to live off the averages and not the exceptions. The other point is not to lose hope when times are lean. That one great day or amazing week could be right around the corner.

As a child, I was unaware of the inconsistency which may have caused pressure for my father in providing for us. The store was open every day except Sundays and Wednesdays. We worshipped on Sundays and we shopped on Wednesdays. It was that way for my entire childhood. I wasn’t aware of any financial restrictions; we always had food and clothing and could go to the doctor as needed. I have no childhood memory of worrying about provisions.

Over the past several years it has become increasingly noticeable that Thanksgiving Day is being squeezed out by its neighboring day, now known as “Black Friday.” In accounting, a “black” day would be a profit-making day that brings a business out of the “red” (operating at a loss.) Retailers today put a lot of hope in Black Friday and the Christmas shopping season that it kicks off. I suspect some actually do need to be pulled out of the red and into the black in terms of accounting, but many just want more of the black (aka “green.”)

I have a lot of issues with our consumerist culture. We easily understand concepts of profit and loss and why it is necessary to do whatever it takes to remain “in the black.” We take a profit/loss approach to just about everything we do: careers, relationships, where/when/if we serve as volunteers … you get the picture. As I learned in my sales career, everyone wears a sign that reads, “What’s in it for me?” If I stand to gain more than I lose, then I might buy what you’re selling.

I suppose that’s some of what has happened to Thanksgiving. People don’t see much personal gain in giving thanks. A day dedicated to visiting with family and sharing a special meal to commemorate a year of things for which to give thanks might seem like a waste of time. Perhaps a nod to gratitude could suffice before we hit the big sales and put a dent in our Christmas shopping.

But I would argue that an intentional day of gratitude is a great investment. I would count it as a discipline, really – a discipline that trains and prepares us to trust God for what we receive and what we can give. It was in my sales career that I learned that God is indeed my provider, regardless of who writes my checks. We could never out-give God and should never miss an opportunity to thank God. So, don’t let our cultural fascination with “big sales” on Black Friday rob you of your opportunity to be thankful first. Spend time with your loved ones and thank God for them. Even if that means you don’t get to the store until 10:00 on Friday morning.

To be “liked”

I don’t really have 562 friends. It feels good to think that I do, but I don’t really. What I do have is something that has developed over the course of the past few years … all because of Facebook. It’s my love-hate relationship with the “like” button.

Honestly, when I post some new status or picture or blog post, no human could pry the phone out of my Kung Fu grip. I have to check responses … like, every two minutes. I never used to be THAT un-cool. As a matter of fact, I had an ultra-cool, take-me-or-leave-me kind of vibe before Facebook showed up with that blasted “like” button. The “like” factor is so strong now – so compelling – that it has caused me to actually delete posts that didn’t get a response within 10-15 minutes. The thoughts I posted that were interesting to me at first suddenly seem uninteresting or perhaps, I worry, offensive to someone. Worse yet, perhaps my friends read it and didn’t like it.

It is the ultimate false identity: the “liked” me. Granted, there is a certain goodness in keeping me on my toes in terms of what I say and how I say it. Too many folks on Facebook have no filter and ARE offensive … and of course they get their comments deleted or else their news hidden from everyone’s feed instead of being “liked.”

I call it a false identity because it is driven by validation from others. You know, any identity you build for yourself based on outside validation is fragile at best. It is very similar to the enmeshed identity that grows within some couples: you begin to do all the things that your significant other “likes” so that they will continue to validate and respond positively to you. Soon enough, you begin doing what you don’t want to do in order to keep being “liked.” Eventually, you know more of what your partner likes than what you like. The goal in that relationship is to be liked forever, but at what cost? The first clue that something is awry is the realization that you haven’t given much thought to doing or being what GOD likes.

One of the biggest challenges any of us face in our lifetime is the challenge of learning who we are as the image-bearers and children of God. My wish is that everyone might take enough time with God and with him- or herself to discover who it is you were created to become and then stay true to that identity. Allow God to transform you as you grow into it. So much of the identity we portray is manufactured by us and our drive to be “liked” by others. The funniest part is that other people most often like those they find to be true to themselves, whether that “self” conforms to cultural norms or not.

So, now do you see my dilemma? When I post this blog, I really want somebody to “like” it. At the same time, I really want readers to get the message whether you all like me or not. So when you click “like,” I will read it as a message delivery receipt and nothing more. Or, at least, that’s what I’ll try to do.

Our dirty lenses

I’ve worn corrective lenses of one kind or another since the 4th grade. Until the age of 16, I wore glasses. Oh, what an image of me with wildly poofy hair, big brown-framed glasses and braces – the awkward years, to say the least. From the age of 16 until now, I have experienced the corrective joy of contact lenses. Contacts stay cleaner than glass lenses, at least in the sense that they don’t get fingerprints all over them. Even with disposable lenses designed to wear overnight, I always choose to disinfect them overnight, every night. It just seems like a smarter option for a long-time wearer like me.

Although it may not be obvious, we all look through lenses of one sort or another. A lot of folks are not conscious on any level of the lenses through which they see the world. For the most part, people assume that everyone sees the world as they do. Or if it becomes clear that someone else does not, then that person is considered either inappropriate, uneducated, or just plain wrong. The funny thing is, that person may make the same judgment about the first person. You see, we all think our vision is the most correct one.

What we fail to see so often is that our lenses cause us to make mistakes in our interpretations. Our lenses develop from early childhood and are shaped by many, many biases – most often unquestioned and unchallenged biases – that create a sort of shorthand for us as we age. Once we learn in childhood, for example, that women are inferior beings because Eve ate the “apple”, or that another race of people is morally inferior because of what this parent or that relative taught us either in words or in actions, then later in life when we encounter a situation where women are being abused or a person of another race is experiencing discrimination, our lenses help us jump to a justifying conclusion. “Oh yeah, that is happening because this subconscious message engraved in my lenses must be true.” But, many times – many times – it isn’t true.

I am studying now about the attitude of Jewish men, particularly other rabbis, during the time Jesus walked the earth. Every day, it was their habit to thank God they were not born as Gentiles (heathens), as women, or as unlearned men. If you say that every day, you can’t help but to be convinced that women, other races, and the uneducated/poor are less human and less deserving than you are. I can’t help but equate that attitude with attitudes I have encountered throughout life from other White Americans about what it means to be born White in America and the ingrained, automatic biases against anyone who isn’t White. Honestly, most folks are not aware how covered in bias their own lenses have become.

Jesus was really good at showing the folks in his day how dirty their lenses were. He did it by blowing their minds with what they considered to be outrageous behavior for a rabbi. He taught women! He spoke to them in public! Jesus spent time loving and befriending and healing people with whom “righteous” men were not supposed to contaminate themselves. He was radical in that regard, and the “holy men” hated him for it.

As a Jesus-follower, I hope to some day blow people’s minds by revealing years of grimy bias. We all should hope to do that. But, in order to reveal dirty lenses, we first have to consistently examine and clean our own.