Antique stores are hopeful places; places that believe in second chances. They accept what others have thrown away, given up on, discarded as un-useable, because they see the potential that remains. Recently, I found myself in a dusty and well-stocked one named "One Man's Trash...", an hommage to the saying, "One man's trash is another man's treasure." This store had a little of everything, from automobile parts, to farming and gardening equipment, to knick-knacks and artwork found in everyday households. I struck up a conversation with the older gentleman who owned the store, wondering what he enjoyed most about the antiques business. "I believe that everything can be used again, and nothing needs to be wasted," he said with a contented smile. "I love that notion." Me too.
Everything can be useful, and nothing need be wasted; sounds a little like St. Paul's counsel to the Church at Rome. How much healthier we, and our relationships, would be if this philosphy were truly embraced in mind and heart, and lived out daily? And most particularly in relationship with an inexhaustibly merciful God?!
God can and does use everything to help us grow up emotionally and spiritually, if you'll invite Him into your own personal "antique store," where there are many things that can be re-purposed, renewed, and restored with the right amount of care and attention.
The parts of our lives we're tempted to bury or hide out of shame and guilt are precisely the parts God wants to use to keep us focused on Him, and the path that leads to Life. And He is never put off or scandalized by our imperfections. Does He care if we lie, cheat, steal, gossip, abuse substances, and rebel in any number of other ways? Of course He does, because He loves us and wants the best for us. But through it all, He never stops loving us and calling us back to what is most essential, to what is true.
In all things God works for good, and He loves unconditionally. If He didn't, the manger in Bethlehem and the Cross at Golgotha would never have happened. Through our mistakes, and heartfelt acknowledgement of those mistakes, He promises to teach, to empower, and to inspire us to virtue, and to lasting peace and joy. However, all too often this reclamation project of turning "trash into treasure" is blocked by us, stalling growth and trust in self and others.
And when you're thinking of blocks to healthy and holy living, start with pride. Pride is the Queen of the Deadly Sins for a reason. It was the original sin, and all sins grow from it. It has infected humankind ever since Eden. Pride convinces us that we can do it alone, that we don't need others, that perhaps we're even better than others. Pride also tells us that how we look to others is more important than who we are. So, the great cover up begins in earnest.
Isolation is the fruit of pride. And isolation kills.
Brokenness is an essential part of our inheritance as fallen human beings, but it does not need to be our destiny. God uses everything, but we must first choose to invite Him into the mess, the chaos, the "trash." Give everything to Him: your regrets and fears, your envy and resentments, all those mistakes you feel are too terrible to admit to. Ask for help, and then move on the resources He'll send: emotional, relational, and spiritual. Do this today...and again tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and so on....because the antique store of your soul must remain open for business, and you need to show up for work every day!
"Trash to treasure"...the ultimate recycling plan!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Controlled Burn
A few years ago I had the opportunity to hike in the beautiful, emerald forests surrounding Lake Tahoe for the first time, but midway through I was surprised to wander upon dozens and dozens of what appeared to be funeral pyres dotting the hillsides; dry brush and splintered tree limbs gathered together and neatly stacked in piles, waiting to be set ablaze in controlled burns the forestry service systematically conducts every autumn. These stacks of debris were, in some cases, only a few yards away from 100 foot pines and I couldn’t help but reflect on the control the firefighters have to have over these fires they intentionally set, to keep the burns from becoming an infernal nightmare. It is well known that to not clear space and remove excess flammable material would be to limit the sustained growth of the forest, and set the region up for a major disaster. The inherent risk of controlled burns is essential for long-term safety. To lower this risk, of course, the forestry service is very careful to choose what they burn, where they burn, and when they burn.
Anger is something like fire, burning white-hot with intensity and power. It can be used for illumination and warmth, and to clear away the emotional and spiritual debris getting in the way of healthy growth in a marriage. Or, it can be permitted to burn out of control, destroying anything and everything in its path and leaving a trail of death in its wake. As a clinical psychologist, I’m actually concerned when I hear a couple say that they never fight, and never get angry with each other. This isn’t real, and is sure evidence that at least one person in the relationship is hiding. Human beings step on toes while dancing, and occasionally stomping, through life. Even when we’re not trying to be hurtful, it’s just a matter of time, and when the hurt comes the burn of anger is soon to follow. Fine, as long as these burns are “controlled.” Like the forestry service preparing for life-sustaining burns in the mountains, time and place is critical.
Fighting in front of others, in public view, is the emotional and spiritual equivalent of the forestry firemen randomly setting anything they see that’s brown on fire, and choosing the windiest, driest day to do the burn. I’m not talking about the moments where disagreements spring up in the course of conversation. A husband and wife might disagree about any number of different issues ranging in importance, and still “contain the burn” in public by staying sensitive to tone of voice, level of anger and hurt, amount of time the disagreement is allowed to run, and the reactions of those around them. Before too long, a neutral statement like, “Let’s talk more about this later”, or “I guess we can agree to disagree” is offered and accepted. No, I’m talking here about the fighting that doesn’t have boundaries.
Think of the last time you were at a family gathering, or double dating, or just sitting in a public space, and you observed two people fighting. It may have had a loud and emotionally violent quality to it, it may have been cutting and sarcastic, and it may have been chillingly quiet, but you felt the toxicity in the air and probably wanted to head in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be around. Fighting in public is rude and selfish, with the implied message being, “Our problem is more important than your peace.” It chokes community and friendship. Specific to your marriage, when you fight in public you disrespect yourself, your spouse, and the very marriage vows you made.
You won’t always like the person you’re married to, and sometimes that dislike may even tempt you to hurt the one you love publicly, but don’t let that push you beyond appropriate social limits. If you do give in, trust in yourself and your partner will erode, and the cancer of disdain grows. Fight, but be careful to choose where, when, and how. Otherwise, you could be setting a forest fire in your marriage that does irreparable damage.
Anger is something like fire, burning white-hot with intensity and power. It can be used for illumination and warmth, and to clear away the emotional and spiritual debris getting in the way of healthy growth in a marriage. Or, it can be permitted to burn out of control, destroying anything and everything in its path and leaving a trail of death in its wake. As a clinical psychologist, I’m actually concerned when I hear a couple say that they never fight, and never get angry with each other. This isn’t real, and is sure evidence that at least one person in the relationship is hiding. Human beings step on toes while dancing, and occasionally stomping, through life. Even when we’re not trying to be hurtful, it’s just a matter of time, and when the hurt comes the burn of anger is soon to follow. Fine, as long as these burns are “controlled.” Like the forestry service preparing for life-sustaining burns in the mountains, time and place is critical.
Fighting in front of others, in public view, is the emotional and spiritual equivalent of the forestry firemen randomly setting anything they see that’s brown on fire, and choosing the windiest, driest day to do the burn. I’m not talking about the moments where disagreements spring up in the course of conversation. A husband and wife might disagree about any number of different issues ranging in importance, and still “contain the burn” in public by staying sensitive to tone of voice, level of anger and hurt, amount of time the disagreement is allowed to run, and the reactions of those around them. Before too long, a neutral statement like, “Let’s talk more about this later”, or “I guess we can agree to disagree” is offered and accepted. No, I’m talking here about the fighting that doesn’t have boundaries.
Think of the last time you were at a family gathering, or double dating, or just sitting in a public space, and you observed two people fighting. It may have had a loud and emotionally violent quality to it, it may have been cutting and sarcastic, and it may have been chillingly quiet, but you felt the toxicity in the air and probably wanted to head in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to be around. Fighting in public is rude and selfish, with the implied message being, “Our problem is more important than your peace.” It chokes community and friendship. Specific to your marriage, when you fight in public you disrespect yourself, your spouse, and the very marriage vows you made.
You won’t always like the person you’re married to, and sometimes that dislike may even tempt you to hurt the one you love publicly, but don’t let that push you beyond appropriate social limits. If you do give in, trust in yourself and your partner will erode, and the cancer of disdain grows. Fight, but be careful to choose where, when, and how. Otherwise, you could be setting a forest fire in your marriage that does irreparable damage.
Friday, June 18, 2010
How are you looking?
When we first bought our house several years ago, there was a great deck in our backyard. From a distance it looked attractive, sturdy, functional. But as one got closer, it was clear that the deck was sagging in places. And standing on it confirmed that it was structurally unsound and needed to be torn down. I think of that old deck when I think of the deadly sin of envy.
“Envy rots the bones,” says the author of Proverbs. What an image! Of all the deadly sins it is the most pathetic, and arguably the most common. St. Thomas Aquinas defined it as “sorrow at another’s good.” Pathetic. Envy is the only deadly sin without even a moment of gratification. And it typically begins very early in life, as one feels an increasing sense of inecurity and competition with those around him or her: for love, for attention, for acceptance. Life for the soul struggling with envy is a series of competitions, and the envious always feels one-down....and is in fact collapsing at a foundational level, emotionally and spiritually.
But as deadly as envy is, it can be helpful in letting us know what we value most and this awareness can be the beginning of healing. Envying another’s good looks may tell us that we put too much importance on physical beauty. Envying a house, a boat, or a car, may be an indication that we base too much of our self-worth on material objects. Envying someone’s popularity may be a clue that we have not been good friends to others, or even to ourselves. Envy can help us take stock of our lives, and re-prioritize our values. The word envy comes from the Latin "invidere", which means "to look askance." Thus, it is in how we look at others, their talents, material possessions, and/or moral virtues that must be carefully considered. Envy focuses one’s vision on the negative aspects of life. The envious, with eyes narrowed, look for faults in others and opportunities to minimize their virtues and successes. This bitter disposition will eventually consume the envious person’s entire world if not challenged. This is why Spenser presents Envy riding atop a ravenous wolf in his pageant of the deadly sins, with venom dripping from its mouth. “For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice” (James 3:16).
Recently, I heard about an inspiring incident that occurred at a Special Olympics track meet. A group of mentally and physically challenged children lined up for the 100-yard dash, and when the starter’s gun sounded they were off toward the finish line, running for the gold medal. About ten yards into the race, one little boy tripped and fell. As he lay in the dust crying one of his competitors, a little girl with Down syndrome, heard him. She slowed, stopped, and then turned and went back to see how he was. One by one every runner in the race joined her, encircling the fallen athlete. The little boy was kissed, consoled, and encouraged to get up and rejoin the race. Then, as the stunned crowd looked on, all ten runners spontaneously grasped hands and ran the race together, crossing the finish line at the same time.
Charity, like envy, has everything to do with how one sees the race, the competition, and the prize.
“Envy rots the bones,” says the author of Proverbs. What an image! Of all the deadly sins it is the most pathetic, and arguably the most common. St. Thomas Aquinas defined it as “sorrow at another’s good.” Pathetic. Envy is the only deadly sin without even a moment of gratification. And it typically begins very early in life, as one feels an increasing sense of inecurity and competition with those around him or her: for love, for attention, for acceptance. Life for the soul struggling with envy is a series of competitions, and the envious always feels one-down....and is in fact collapsing at a foundational level, emotionally and spiritually.
But as deadly as envy is, it can be helpful in letting us know what we value most and this awareness can be the beginning of healing. Envying another’s good looks may tell us that we put too much importance on physical beauty. Envying a house, a boat, or a car, may be an indication that we base too much of our self-worth on material objects. Envying someone’s popularity may be a clue that we have not been good friends to others, or even to ourselves. Envy can help us take stock of our lives, and re-prioritize our values. The word envy comes from the Latin "invidere", which means "to look askance." Thus, it is in how we look at others, their talents, material possessions, and/or moral virtues that must be carefully considered. Envy focuses one’s vision on the negative aspects of life. The envious, with eyes narrowed, look for faults in others and opportunities to minimize their virtues and successes. This bitter disposition will eventually consume the envious person’s entire world if not challenged. This is why Spenser presents Envy riding atop a ravenous wolf in his pageant of the deadly sins, with venom dripping from its mouth. “For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice” (James 3:16).
Recently, I heard about an inspiring incident that occurred at a Special Olympics track meet. A group of mentally and physically challenged children lined up for the 100-yard dash, and when the starter’s gun sounded they were off toward the finish line, running for the gold medal. About ten yards into the race, one little boy tripped and fell. As he lay in the dust crying one of his competitors, a little girl with Down syndrome, heard him. She slowed, stopped, and then turned and went back to see how he was. One by one every runner in the race joined her, encircling the fallen athlete. The little boy was kissed, consoled, and encouraged to get up and rejoin the race. Then, as the stunned crowd looked on, all ten runners spontaneously grasped hands and ran the race together, crossing the finish line at the same time.
Charity, like envy, has everything to do with how one sees the race, the competition, and the prize.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Thank you, Coach....
Funny the things that come to mind when you hear that someone you knew has died.
I knew John Wooden in passing. He was friends with my father, and he was gracious enough to accept the Humanitas Award at our second Stillpoint Family Resources Gala. A week before the event, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet with him at his home in Encino. He graciously autographed a basketball for our auction, and then chatted with me for about thirty minutes. I left knowing that I had been in the presence of greatness.
He'd spoken about basketball, but also about poetry, philosophy, and faith. The man was profound, and I was transfixed. Toward the end of our meeting, I was able to mumble that I'd had the privilege of attending four of his summer basketball camps, and how much I'd enjoyed them. He smiled and asked me if I remembered the drills. I did, actually. But what I remembered more had nothing to do with basketball.
I remember how Coach was with his wife. As a boy of eight, I noticed how he responded when he'd see her arrive at the camp. He seemed to explode with joy. This sports immortal, the "Wizard of Westwood", greatest coach in the history of college basketball (and maybe all of basketball), totally and unabashedly joyful about his wife. She'd enter the cafeteria and he'd get up, go to her, embrace her, and usher her to his table where they seemed to have a date...at least that's what it felt like. In the middle of a noisy cafeteria, at a basketball camp for kids, they were alone. I was eight and I noticed. What does that tell you about the power of their love?
John Wooden wasn't a great man because he won a lot of basketball games. He was great because he loved. He loved God, he loved learning, he loved people, he loved basketball, and he especially loved his wife. I smile to think that John and Nellie are finally together again tonight, forever.
Requiescat in pace, Coach. Thank you for teaching about what matters most.
I knew John Wooden in passing. He was friends with my father, and he was gracious enough to accept the Humanitas Award at our second Stillpoint Family Resources Gala. A week before the event, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet with him at his home in Encino. He graciously autographed a basketball for our auction, and then chatted with me for about thirty minutes. I left knowing that I had been in the presence of greatness.
He'd spoken about basketball, but also about poetry, philosophy, and faith. The man was profound, and I was transfixed. Toward the end of our meeting, I was able to mumble that I'd had the privilege of attending four of his summer basketball camps, and how much I'd enjoyed them. He smiled and asked me if I remembered the drills. I did, actually. But what I remembered more had nothing to do with basketball.
I remember how Coach was with his wife. As a boy of eight, I noticed how he responded when he'd see her arrive at the camp. He seemed to explode with joy. This sports immortal, the "Wizard of Westwood", greatest coach in the history of college basketball (and maybe all of basketball), totally and unabashedly joyful about his wife. She'd enter the cafeteria and he'd get up, go to her, embrace her, and usher her to his table where they seemed to have a date...at least that's what it felt like. In the middle of a noisy cafeteria, at a basketball camp for kids, they were alone. I was eight and I noticed. What does that tell you about the power of their love?
John Wooden wasn't a great man because he won a lot of basketball games. He was great because he loved. He loved God, he loved learning, he loved people, he loved basketball, and he especially loved his wife. I smile to think that John and Nellie are finally together again tonight, forever.
Requiescat in pace, Coach. Thank you for teaching about what matters most.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
In the beginning....
“Whatever did not fit in with my plan did lie within the plan of God.”
-St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
I remember the call like it was yesterday. It woke me from this wonderful dream about my beautiful wife and my brand new, perfectly healthy son. "We need you to come back to the hospital. We believe your son has some genetic issues we need to discuss with you and your wife." The pediatrician sounded like she was a million miles away. Of course she was already distancing herself emotionally...what news to have to give to a first-time father who six hours earlier was sent home with the promise that everything was fine.
The doctor gave the phone to Jenni, without telling her anything about "genetic issues". "Ross, what's going on?" All I could mumble was, "I’ll be there in twenty minutes and we'll figure it all out." I hung up the phone and collapsed into a chair. Figure it all out? The doctor was talking about Down syndrome. I don’t know how I knew, but I didn't even have to ask. My head started to swim, and my breathing suddenly became very shallow. I tried to tell myself that the doctors could be wrong, and that there was no way two healthy young parents could have a child with Down syndrome. Besides, throughout the entire pregnancy none of the screens or ultrasounds had picked up any sign of problems. This couldn’t be.
But as I sat there in our kitchen, looking out at the start of a bright sunny day, I knew that the doctors were not wrong, and that two healthy young parents could have a Down’s baby, and that not all screenings and ultrasounds pick up irregularities in a pregnancy. Most of all, I was overwhelmed by the realization that my life had just taken a sharp turn and that nothing would ever be the same again. John Michael Porter, miracle, mystery, perfect gift of God was born with strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes, and 47 chromosomes. In addition, he had two major heart malformations and needed his first heart procedure at three days old to save his life. Over the next two years, he would have pneumonia and two more open-heart surgeries. If John Michael had been born twenty years earlier, he would not have survived one week. The technology that saved his life had not yet been developed.
I know without a doubt that I would be a very different person if I had lost my baby boy. I would still believe deep down that giftedness was best defined by I.Q. tests, and the formula for success was a good education coupled with a high paying job, and that “retarded” people couldn’t be teachers. I’ve found that this is the worldview of most people in our society…especially if they haven’t experienced the beauty of a special needs person face-to-face, and heart to heart. People who carry this bias are not bad, they’re just mistaken…like I was mistaken for the first thirty years of my life.
Some lessons can only be taught in the context of a relationship.
Tomorrow, May 31st, the Feast Day of the Visitation, our John Michael turns 16 years-old. The little boy Jenni and I had baptized at 16 hours old, because we thought it would be the last thing we could do for him before he returned to God, is about to turn 16. Amazing. My heart is so full of gratitude for the gift of his life, and for the gifts all our special needs children are. But my heart is also heavy, knowing how frighteningly few of these precious children are even given the chance to live, to love, and to change the world around them with their smiles, and hugs, and innocence.
Please join me in praying for those who are, or will become, pregnant with special needs children; that they are able to see with eyes of faith the gift they've been given, and that they will receive the support they need to embrace life. Because if they choose life, they will be changed forever...and the world will be a better place.
And thank you John Michael for being my hidden grace, my greatest teacher, my heart. You're daddy loves you beyond words.
-St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
I remember the call like it was yesterday. It woke me from this wonderful dream about my beautiful wife and my brand new, perfectly healthy son. "We need you to come back to the hospital. We believe your son has some genetic issues we need to discuss with you and your wife." The pediatrician sounded like she was a million miles away. Of course she was already distancing herself emotionally...what news to have to give to a first-time father who six hours earlier was sent home with the promise that everything was fine.
The doctor gave the phone to Jenni, without telling her anything about "genetic issues". "Ross, what's going on?" All I could mumble was, "I’ll be there in twenty minutes and we'll figure it all out." I hung up the phone and collapsed into a chair. Figure it all out? The doctor was talking about Down syndrome. I don’t know how I knew, but I didn't even have to ask. My head started to swim, and my breathing suddenly became very shallow. I tried to tell myself that the doctors could be wrong, and that there was no way two healthy young parents could have a child with Down syndrome. Besides, throughout the entire pregnancy none of the screens or ultrasounds had picked up any sign of problems. This couldn’t be.
But as I sat there in our kitchen, looking out at the start of a bright sunny day, I knew that the doctors were not wrong, and that two healthy young parents could have a Down’s baby, and that not all screenings and ultrasounds pick up irregularities in a pregnancy. Most of all, I was overwhelmed by the realization that my life had just taken a sharp turn and that nothing would ever be the same again. John Michael Porter, miracle, mystery, perfect gift of God was born with strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes, and 47 chromosomes. In addition, he had two major heart malformations and needed his first heart procedure at three days old to save his life. Over the next two years, he would have pneumonia and two more open-heart surgeries. If John Michael had been born twenty years earlier, he would not have survived one week. The technology that saved his life had not yet been developed.
I know without a doubt that I would be a very different person if I had lost my baby boy. I would still believe deep down that giftedness was best defined by I.Q. tests, and the formula for success was a good education coupled with a high paying job, and that “retarded” people couldn’t be teachers. I’ve found that this is the worldview of most people in our society…especially if they haven’t experienced the beauty of a special needs person face-to-face, and heart to heart. People who carry this bias are not bad, they’re just mistaken…like I was mistaken for the first thirty years of my life.
Some lessons can only be taught in the context of a relationship.
Tomorrow, May 31st, the Feast Day of the Visitation, our John Michael turns 16 years-old. The little boy Jenni and I had baptized at 16 hours old, because we thought it would be the last thing we could do for him before he returned to God, is about to turn 16. Amazing. My heart is so full of gratitude for the gift of his life, and for the gifts all our special needs children are. But my heart is also heavy, knowing how frighteningly few of these precious children are even given the chance to live, to love, and to change the world around them with their smiles, and hugs, and innocence.
Please join me in praying for those who are, or will become, pregnant with special needs children; that they are able to see with eyes of faith the gift they've been given, and that they will receive the support they need to embrace life. Because if they choose life, they will be changed forever...and the world will be a better place.
And thank you John Michael for being my hidden grace, my greatest teacher, my heart. You're daddy loves you beyond words.
Friday, May 14, 2010
A thing of the heart
When one speaks of courage, images that jump to mind are of heroic action: the first responders on 9/11, a teen-aged St. Joan of Arc leading the army of France into battle, the soldiers who stormed the beaches at Normandy. Certainly these are all outstanding examples, but can also lead people to believe that courage only happens on the largest of stages, with lives in the balance. We miss the full beauty of this virtue if we don't recognize that courage is just as fully presented in the "little things"...victories that can't be quantified. Victories that can only be measured by the heart.
In fact, the word Courage comes from the Latin for "Heart". Courage takes the "thought" to do good, and puts it into action. To resist giving in to obstacles, and to take positive action...that's courage.
And there was plenty of courage, heart, on display yesterday at the Chaminade College Preparatory baseball diamond.
My dear friend and colleague Joe Sikorra was there with his son John. John is blind, and struggling with the devastating effects of Batten disease, a neurodegenerative disorder. But his dream has always been to play high school baseball. He's been on the team as a "coach" this year, but that wasn't enough. He wanted to hit, and he wanted to run, and he wanted to score.
So, yesterday at the start of the game, the manager chose John to be the leadoff hitter. The visiting team took the field, honoring the moment with their cooperation. A ball tee was placed at home plate, and Joe led John to it...and then stood back and let him swing for the fences. And did he ever! As John, led by his father, rounded the bases the crowd rose and cheered, a boy's dream was realized, and this weary world seemed just a bit brighter.
Courage. It's the virtue of battlefields and burning buildings. But yesterday it was also the virtue of a high school baseball diamond, when a beautiful young man running short on time and his proud father grabbed hands and together charged past fear, and indifference, and passivity and into an immortal moment that all of Heaven cheered...along with a couple of hundred people on earth.
In fact, the word Courage comes from the Latin for "Heart". Courage takes the "thought" to do good, and puts it into action. To resist giving in to obstacles, and to take positive action...that's courage.
And there was plenty of courage, heart, on display yesterday at the Chaminade College Preparatory baseball diamond.
My dear friend and colleague Joe Sikorra was there with his son John. John is blind, and struggling with the devastating effects of Batten disease, a neurodegenerative disorder. But his dream has always been to play high school baseball. He's been on the team as a "coach" this year, but that wasn't enough. He wanted to hit, and he wanted to run, and he wanted to score.
So, yesterday at the start of the game, the manager chose John to be the leadoff hitter. The visiting team took the field, honoring the moment with their cooperation. A ball tee was placed at home plate, and Joe led John to it...and then stood back and let him swing for the fences. And did he ever! As John, led by his father, rounded the bases the crowd rose and cheered, a boy's dream was realized, and this weary world seemed just a bit brighter.
Courage. It's the virtue of battlefields and burning buildings. But yesterday it was also the virtue of a high school baseball diamond, when a beautiful young man running short on time and his proud father grabbed hands and together charged past fear, and indifference, and passivity and into an immortal moment that all of Heaven cheered...along with a couple of hundred people on earth.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Tiger You Know...
Are you familiar with the saying, “The tiger you know is better than the tiger you don’t know?” It originated in India, with townspeople that lived on the edge of jungles inhabited by tigers. Inevitably, a tiger would wander out of the jungle and through the town, looking for food. This was certainly an immediate danger, but over time the town got to know the tiger’s habits, his routines, and when he would come calling. They chose not to kill the tiger, because they knew that another would soon replace it, and bring new habits they were unfamiliar with. This new tiger would be more dangerous than the old because the new one would be unpredictable.
This “settling mentality” may be the right strategy for Indian towns dealing with tiger problems, but it is a slow death for marriages, a quitting that is just as final as a divorce.
Marriages get into ruts, and stay in ruts for many reasons, but at the core is a fear of change. We are always free to make changes, adaptations in our marriages, big and small. True, our freedom is not unlimited but there are always choices…always. However, there will invariably arise a serious temptation to deny this personal freedom, and give excuses for why we must remain stuck.
Anxiety comes with all change, because change brings us face to face with possibility, with the great unknown, with new challenges and responsibilities. And anxiety is an uncomfortable feeling to say the least. It may sound crazy but many marriages stall, and remain stalled, because relative dissatisfaction is seen as preferable to all that potential healing and growth would bring. “True, I’m not wonderfully happy, but it could be worse.” The tiger you know…
Spring is the season of new beginnings. See if now isn't the right time to re-discover why you first chose each other. What first drew you to each other, and what you origninally fell in love about....and begin that wonderful process of falling in love all over again!
This “settling mentality” may be the right strategy for Indian towns dealing with tiger problems, but it is a slow death for marriages, a quitting that is just as final as a divorce.
Marriages get into ruts, and stay in ruts for many reasons, but at the core is a fear of change. We are always free to make changes, adaptations in our marriages, big and small. True, our freedom is not unlimited but there are always choices…always. However, there will invariably arise a serious temptation to deny this personal freedom, and give excuses for why we must remain stuck.
Anxiety comes with all change, because change brings us face to face with possibility, with the great unknown, with new challenges and responsibilities. And anxiety is an uncomfortable feeling to say the least. It may sound crazy but many marriages stall, and remain stalled, because relative dissatisfaction is seen as preferable to all that potential healing and growth would bring. “True, I’m not wonderfully happy, but it could be worse.” The tiger you know…
Spring is the season of new beginnings. See if now isn't the right time to re-discover why you first chose each other. What first drew you to each other, and what you origninally fell in love about....and begin that wonderful process of falling in love all over again!
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