Staying out of the Weeds

It is so easy for me to step into the weeds these days, and find myself out of sorts.

I can fall over an emotional cliff easily -- am I sane? Or, insane?  Hard to tell some days.

Personally my stuff is probably not yours, but we all can face a similar question.  How do we stay out of the weeds?  How do we stay afloat?

Many of you may have seen "African Queen" --a Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn classic that takes place during WWI in a German colony in Eastern Africa. A missionary  (Hepburn) is forced to take a battered, seen-its better days river boat (the African Queen) out of a village under fire by Germans who are ousting British influences. The captain of said African Queen (Bogart) is as battered as his boat, but he is well seasoned with alcohol and experience.  Hepburn, a prissy, British missionary has a higher goal than just getting out of the burning village.  She pesters the whiskered, alcohol-fueled  Bogart to steam up the Ulana River with endlessly branching streams which go nowhere but impenetrable swamps. Hepburn has God on her side, Bogart not so sure, but the goal is to reach  Lake Louisa in order  to take out a huge German warship with a torpedo constructed by the sobered-up Bogart. The climax finds them exhausted and facing death as the African Queen has run amok in one of those swamps, stuck in thick mud and weeds, unable to move anywhere.

The visual hits home for me as I navigate through my days, determined to stay out of the weeds.
My solution may not be yours.  But the climate of our vexation is the same.  It was oddly reassuring to read Thomas L. Friedman's book, "Thank you for Being Late --  An Optimist's guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations."  Co-incidentally (or not), I bought the book at the airport after missing a flight.  Not the airline's fault -- my own when upon exiting my house, my husband asked me if I had my boarding pass. "Yep," I answered smugly, "all ready to go."

Not so much.  Misread the pass, missed my flight.  So, I had a day of wandering the airport waiting for either standby, or a later flight.  Much later.  One silver lining was purchasing Friedman's book.  Captivated by the title("Thank you for Being Late") which I certainly just experienced,  I was pleasantly surprised to find a really good read. For me, it's always reassuring to know I have company in my self-wondering, "Am I peddling faster, and getting no-where slower?"

Friedman in very readable terms explains his thesis.  That Moore's law (technology), the Market (globalization), and Mother Nature (climate change) are accelerating all at once, and transforming the workplace, politics, geopolitics, ethics, and community (all at once).

Okay, so there is an explanation besides my senior status.  I pondered my everyday glitches which Friedman's thesis helped me to clarify.

Technology -- the bane of my existence!  Hours spent wading through technological weeds?  Please!
 It is time well spent for me when I step back, and understand it is not always my fault, and that I am learning not one new language, sometimes 3 or 4.  And by the time I learn those languages, new technological advances pop up, and I grab my IPhone for technical assistance -- wait!-- more weeds as I plow through thick accents to listen to instructions I don't understand anyhow.

Climate change?  Sweater and jeans one day, cotton t-shirt and shorts the next due to a 30 degree upswing in 24 hours.  Forget seasonal wardrobe closet changes.  Stuff wool and cotton together, call it good.

Politics?!  On any given day, I walk in the company of people who are loving, good, wonderful, ethical, spiritual people. And a political conversation with any of them, both sides of the political aisle, can take me into the WEEDS within seconds.

Ethics? Any discussion relative to abortion, assisted suicide, transgender issues, homosexuality, cloning humans, seem "out there" until you are smack dab in the middle of those issues with family, neighbors, and ordinary people who on the outside look far removed from any of the above issues.  Until you find yourself at the other end of a conversation with them,  wondering, "Do I really know what to say to them that is honoring, kind, true and comforting?" Weeds I see you up ahead. 

 When my stepson committed suicide four years ago, my personal angst and ethics were challenged -- "Did I do enough when his health was eroded by drugs he used to steady mental challenges he faced his whole life?"  Should I have fought more aggressively in a mental health industry where answers are sparse? 

I am not alone. Many parents face complex issues which require decisions they don't feel equipped to make.   Pastors, doctors, teachers, counselors can daily  head into dilemmas where solutions evaporate in the tension of competing needs. Staying sober-minded ethically in the midst of the complexity of daily life is required to remain true to our values and ourselves.

So, refreshing as Friedman's book was in defining the reason life seems so complex these days, I didn't go to his book to find the solution to decisions I had to make which hung heavy in the air for me currently.  I sat in my favorite chair, and picked up my favorite book --

the Bible.

In these times, when the weeds are the thickest, God has clearer and clearer revelation to those who have eyes to see and ears to hear.  He, after all understands better than Friedman, the complexity, volatility, and acceleration of our lives -- and the reasons!

I took my daily perplexities about my current issues to Him.  It always astounds me that God, the creator of heaven and earth, always takes time to have tea with me, his daughter.  He takes all the time I have and need, for me to understand His explanation to my problems and then, the solutions and the disciplines He wants me to instill into my life to help me joyfully arrive at those solutions.  This week He directed me to  the books of Timothy, Ephesians, Romans, and Revelation. Staying out of the Weeds!  Taking me into the living flowing water.

Which brings us back to Hepburn and Bogart.  As Hepburn prayed for them to accept death gracefully, the rains came, and

released the African Queen from the weeds into the deep blue waters of Lake Louisa.  It didn't end there.  Another obstacle around the corner, but another answer.  Kinda like our lives.  One prayer answered -- a deeper perspective -- then, another challenge around the corner. 

But wait!  Another answer!

Out of the weeds!

My conversation with Madeleine L'Engle, author of "A Wrinkle in Time"

My life was shaped greatly by Madeleine L'Engle both as a writer and as a follower of Jesus Christ.  Lately I've spent time pondering my own personal testimony -- about the many ways I see God's hand shaping the course of my life -- through individuals, and circumstances.

The testimony of how L'Engle entered my life and her ensuing influence is one that ranks right up there.  And it comes more into focus now because her greatest novel, "A Wrinkle in Time" opens as a major motion picture this Saturday, March 9.

Hopefully, Hollywood stays true to her book, because by her own admission, "A Wrinkle in Time" was from God, "a good work." Published in 1962 after being rejected by publishers for ten years, "Wrinkle" is a story about three children who fight an evil force threatening their planet.

My testimony of my writing career being shaped by her is one for another blog.  L'Engle has been dead for eleven years, but it is a great testimony to her, and her writing that "Wrinkle" is surfacing as a movie after all of these years.  I didn't read this book until I was an adult and felt the impact immediately as to the depth of her message, and the simplicity and grace of her storytelling, and I feel in many ways the timing of this movie is the Lord's.

 My meeting with her happened rather randomly.  Don't all divine appointments fall as a suddenly?  This one did!  It happened nearly ten years ago when she was in Portland conducting a writer's conference. At the time I didn't have the money to go to the conference, but I did go to her free Friday night "open to the public" session at the Old Church in downtown Portland.

But, I had NO IDEA THAT I WOULD HAVE LUNCH WITH HER! FOR 2 1/2 GLORIOUS HOURS! God had a plan for me!

Initially, I balked at attending the "open to the public"session. I thought of a thousand reasons why I should not go.  Too hot, old building, no air conditioning. Did I really want any lecture on writing fiction?  I was a journalist for heaven's sake! But my writing mentor's urging won out -- she believed I had a novel inside my journalistic self, and thought an evening with Madeleine could shake it out of me.

But it was not the writing that bonded me to Madeleine L'Engle.  It was her passion for Jesus Christ.

So, in spite of hot and muggy,  I entered the Old Church with not much expectation, sat down, and proceeded to peruse the audience.  It was filled to overflowing with people who were chattering with excitement. Seemed to be a writing kind of audience I surmised, but would she teach for free on this night with a whole week-end full of paid-up participants who were signed-up months in advance for a writer's conference?

Before much second thought on my part, and after an introduction filled with accolades, she strode out to the podium, a puff of purple.  Though she seemed to float to the podium, her presence spoke of confidence and strength.  She smiled, graciously acknowledging and scanning the packed crowd both on the ground floor and balcony, and stood a few more minutes in silence.  It brought an uncanny shift to the audience atmosphere, almost as if their excitement turned to a wonder of curiosity.

She spoke. "I know most of you have come tonight to hear my experiences as an author, and about my life as a writer."  She paused, again perusing her listeners, "But tonight I am going to tell you all about the real author of this author -- Jesus Christ."

And, she proceeded to give the gospel of Jesus Christ, how He found her and loved her, and how it changed her life and her writing, her love for creativity, and her love for teaching writers, yes, her love for writers!

To say that you could hear a pin drop -- was an understatement.  She had the audience in the palm of her hand, not because of who she was, but

because of Who Jesus is.

I fell in love -- with her grace, with the power of her message, and I was humbled that I had almost missed the evening!  But God was not done with me yet.

As she closed, lines started forming to talk to her.  I briefly considered going up to shake her hand, and mumble my admiration, but I left the church instead.

I didn't get far. Stopped dead in my tracks for no human reason. Standing under the boughs of an old oak tree situated in front of the Old Church, I heard a still small voice, "Go back in and tell her you would like to interview her."

 I grabbed the bark of the old oak tree to steady myself.  I knew what I had heard, but hoped I hadn't. With what I can only define as gut-wrenching obedience, I made my way back inside, waited in line, and stuttered a question, something about me being a free-lancer, and yes, I know you don't have time, and, but, well, can I interview you?

There was never a waver in her eyes, her voice, or her resolve.  "Yes, Oh Yes!  I'd love to meet with you!"

The women who put on the conference had other ideas about her time.  "No Madeleine," one chimed in promptly, "You have no time to meet with anyone outside the conference!"

Velvet and steel, yes? L'Engle turned to her, and very sweetly said, "Oh my dear, but I do!"
She turned to me, we set up the time, and voila, my time with Madeleine was set for lunch the next day.

I felt like I was having lunch with an old friend instead of interviewing her.  We ate grilled cheese sandwiches in the conference building's cafeteria, and talked about many things.  She explained about how she found her way into the Christian faith. It began with her reading Einstein's "Theory of Relativity" in beginning to research for "A Wrinkle in Time."  She described her initial deep musings into whether there was a God or not, and in her journey of research for "Wrinkle", she  began to find God.  Her journey, as most of ours, took some time, and as she explains it in her non-fiction book, "A Circle of Quiet,"  an Anglican bishop finally "loved me into the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and settled the issue for me once and for all.  All the theological books my friends had given me didn't matter.  The love of God through this man in a time of a deep personal need brought me to the understanding of who God is."

We talked about things big and small.   She never once questioned that I was not a part of the conference -- instead, she seemed relieved that she could just be, and not teach.  In talking about "Wrinkle", she explained that it never occurred to her to doubt whether children should not know that evil existed.  And always when pressed, she insisted that she didn't write children's books, she wrote for everyone.  We talked about prayer, and she said she gave her more conservative Christian friends credit for teaching her about prayer, really deep prayer, that took her into the heart of her God.

We talked about her love for her husband, Hugh, who was an actor -- and she laughed unabashedly about how clumsy she felt (she had one leg shorter than the other) around him, and how he loved her into feeling totally graceful, kept her humble, and when she almost gave up writing during the ten years of waiting for "A Wrinkle in Time" to be published, Hugh chastised her about all the books being published that weren't half as good as hers, and encouraged her to stay the course!

She was adamant about being available as a mother, and would put her children to bed and stay up in the middle of the night to write, until her children, when they became older, gave her permission to write  during the day (please mother!) because she was grumpy otherwise. She believed in commitment and mused that when they bought an old farm house in a small rural village to raise their children, she rued,"I get so frightfully bored sometimes, and oh, the plumbing!"  Then a laugh, "My floors are a wreck, I can't bake a pie, but I can cook, thank God!  And write!"

It was Madeleine that impressed upon me for the first time -- you are a writer --God created you.  You have Him as your partner.   She was the first to admit that the process is not always a clean one -- it can get messy, but it is yours and God's.  It is good.  It is right.  And it is a fight.

And fight you must.

She believed in both the good and the evil.  And she believed in the fight.  And she believed that the fight can be won.  She believed in enjoying life, strong values, commitment, and honestly questioning and wrestling with God in questions, both big and small.

She squeezed my hand at the end of our interview, hugged me, and said, "Oh what a delight you are! Here is my phone number.  Call me any time!"

I am sure she had said that to thousands of writers, but how grateful I am to have been one of them.  "A Wrinkle in Time" reminds me of my time with her, and the kinship of our similar passions.  I am honored to have known her, and perhaps share a part of her with you dear readers.

For such a time as this?

I think so.  Read the book, and make your own decision about whether Hollywood got it or not.

Time to Breathe?

A new year. A clean slate.

2018 came in much as 2017 had progressed.  I reconnected with long-lost relatives, absorbed the blows of life as institutions imploded, and as dear friends faced their own trials.  Thinking I was withstanding  the roiling emotions which life brings these days, another event "popped in."

My knee popped out.  OUCH!   And, I was, in a word,

Immobile.

Leveled by the physical pain, I quickly discounted that there were lessons to be learned here, and plunged into the tyranny of the urgent.

Delegating became my second name.  The list of what has to be done, what isn't being done, and dear God in heaven what can be done? was answered immediately by a knee that said, I AM DONE!

Those dear ones around me quickly found their own mantra, "Uh, that does not HAVE TO BE DONE!

Gradually, as the voice of reason nudged into my panic, I began to understand how hell-bent I am to HAVE my own way, DO it my own way, and THINK in my own way.

Once again, my friend Jesus in that still small voice quieted me with a beckoning,"Come let me show you new discoveries!  About me, about yourself!"

Captured by His gentle luring, I began to take stock of those lessons.

In the midst of my busyness,  I had lost my ability to see the gift of receiving from those who love me. Gradually, I relaxed in the love of their help.  Had I hardened myself so much? Or had Jesus' words, "Giving is better than receiving" turned into a stumbling block for me? Did I forget that to give to others, I had to receive the gifts Jesus had for me?

I began to breathe.  Ridiculous as it sounds, I learned to sit and be. And breathe.  Again, a peace -- the peace that passes all understanding begin to bathe me in a sweetness that had been clouded with my pain. As I relaxed, peace prevailed and a new attention to detail of my surroundings and those I love began to overtake my pain. A miracle relearned.

I have written much in this blog about my struggles to dispel my prejudices as I work in my neighborhood which is changing rapidly, sometimes with challenges not to my liking. And ONCE AGAIN, I learned a deeper lesson as I obeyed my doctor's advice to swim more. Not knowing that this would be another lesson to dispel prejudices, I limped off to my neighborhood gym. Entering into the pool area, expecting to swim quickly and exit, I instead found a crowded pool and spa. Me, a Russian body-builder, a young Hispanic boxer,  a Middle-Eastern young adult, two Hispanic teen-agers, and a Chinese doctor were in the spa, in the pool, and in the sauna -- not always in that order.

Quickly, I discerned that I had no choice but to go with the so-called program and swim, in spite of the crowded spa and pool. Fill in the blanks dear reader -- in the midst of it all, I found out much about my companions that afternoon, there was laughter, sharing, and yes, I did swim, and yes it helped my prejudices, and my knee.   Hebrews  12: 12-13 hits me, literally. "Therefore, strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble, and make straight paths for your feet, so that the limb which is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed."

As you can note dear reader, I am healing.  I walk short distances now, but I am nudged more into swimming, I drink lots of water (as I have been resistant to do for years -- too much running to -- well you know).  I listen to the Lord, and to my body.  Stop, sit, enjoy, rest, write, love those around you, and watch what I AM DOING!

Writing is flowing in greater measure.  I have time to sit more and peruse old journals.  I am aware that the path of my life has been laid meticulously out for me by my Lord, and that I know my path.  A miracle above all miracles, and I am blessed.   Helping others pen their stories, and finding my own.

Nuggets.

As you are dear readers.  Thanks for walking with me on my journey.  Stay tuned.  Next month I am posting an interview I did with Madeleine L'Engle 20 years ago.  Her book, "A Wrinkle in Time" is coming out as a Disney movie March 9th. 

Another nugget.  See you.