dumpster diving and motives

What makes a person run 13.1 miles without stopping? What is it about the alarm clock that results in one arising at 4 am? What causes a person to spend hours dumpster diving for dentures?

Motive. Incentive. Inner drive. Impulse. That which causes one to act.
Motives are linked directly to a person's actions. But actions do not always reflect motives. Why do you do the things you do? What makes you do good? What causes you to do evil? It is possible to do something good with horrible motives, just as it is possible to have good intentions and end up hurting someone.

Pride, money, glory, flat abs, friends, sleep...selfishness, selflessness. What is your motivation? Where is your heart?

There's a little old lady who has dentures. And she has a history of wrapping her dentures in a napkin and  leaving them on the dining room table. This results in the dentures being disposed of accidently. Thus, dumpster diving for dentures. Yesterday, as I leaned over the dumpster and pulled out a gray garbage bag labeled "Dietary: Breakfast 10-30", I thought about my motives. "Why am I doing this?" As I put on a gown and gloves and opened the raunchy smelling bag, I questioned my job description. "I paid thousands of dollars for 4 years of school to pass the NCLEX and do this?" As I picked apart the soggy bread from the banana peels, the straws from the plastic cups, I unwrapped every napkin...one by one.

Now I understand how the shepherd could leave the flock in search of the one lost sheep. I get how the lady could search her house high and low for the missing coin.
And I totally relate with the need to call together friends and neighbors saying, "Rejoice with me, for I have found the sheep, the coin, the dentures that were lost!" There was much celebration when the dentures were found.

But I'm still thinking back to "Why?". Why did I dumpster dive for dentures? Why do I do the things I do? Sometimes, it's because it's my 'job'. Sometimes, it's because other people are watching me. Sometimes, it's because it will benefit me. Sometimes, it's because I think I'll get more 'Jesus points'. Sometimes it's because I want vengeance and justice. Sometimes, it's because of my pride. Sometimes, it's because of guilt or shame.

Not always, but sometimes.

Once in awhile, I do the things I do because of my faith. Sometimes, the Spirit enables me to give grace and mercy that only comes from Him. Sometimes, love for God is the catalyst behind my actions. Sometimes, I'm not actually thinking of myself.

Not always, but sometimes.

What makes an infinite Being breathe life into finite beings? What is it about this world that results in the Almighty sacrificing His only Son? What causes the Lord of the universe to invite His creation to be part of the story of restoration, renewal, and redemption?

God is good. His motives are good. His intentions are good. His actions are good. His love is good. His grace is good. His mercy is good. His forgiveness is good. His promises are good. His thoughts are good. His words are good.

Not sometimes, but always.

cluster chords

Some people are difficult. Something about their attitude or actions makes coexisting challenging. And often times, I realize that if I could change that person, I would end up making them more like myself. I would take the differences and make them no more.

If I wrote music, I'd probably write boring music...one melody line, one volume, one speed. I like things to go as expected. I like harmony and peace. I like it when everyone gets along.


I was sitting in the balcony of my church tonight, singing at choir practice when I found myself plugging my ears. Now, normally, our choir sounds real good. Made of young pups like me and 70 year old men with voices as smooth as butter cream, our group usually blends well. Except for this one chord in this one song. Our director called it a cluster chord because there are several notes clustered together. It sounds as though each note is fighting with the others and no one really wins. Ironically, this chord is held as we sing the word "peace". Singing my F while the person next to me sings a F#, I don't feel any peace. I am tempted to just sing the F# and end the pain in my ears. But I don't.

Because this cluster chord reminds me of life. Dissonance is our reality. People are created, not duplicated. Peace is the aim, but not the norm. Life is not always a harmonious arrangement, with conforming ideas and beliefs. Cluster chords speckle our days and lead us to a decision. We can continue singing our own note, or we can abandon it and begin singing someone else's note. There is a time to get along. There is a time to cooperate and compromise. But not every time. Sometimes, disagreements are good. Sometimes anticonformity is beautiful. Sometimes, disruptions lead to wholeness.

Music is not supposed to always be the same. The weird moving notes, the descants, the key changes make the song interesting. They keep the listener alert, anticipating the possibilities within the song. That's how life is supposed to be. Difficult people don't have to leave me frustrated. Circumstances don't have to leave me discouraged. Disagreements don't have to chase me away. There is a chance to learn, a chance to grow, a chance to hope. Unison is good. But cluster chords are better. A song can always end in unison. But a song would never end in a cluster chord. Cluster chords mean the song isn't over, there's more...just keep listening. It will get better. But it may sound worse before it sounds better...just keep listening.

My life isn't over. The cluster chords continue to pepper my lifesong. So I'll unplug my ears and embrace the sound.

mercy

I walked into a bookstore and saw a book. The cover wasn't that appealing and the title wasn't intriguing. Yet, I couldn't help but buy it. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Strange, yes. But so far, it's not terrible. I read a sentence in that book that made me rest my head on the headrest, put the book in my lap, and smile as I closed my eyes reminiscing on the last few days. 

"The world will give you that once in awhile; a brief timeout, the boxing bell rings and you go to your corner, where somebody dabs mercy on your beat-up life."

That's what this last week was: a brief timeout. A chance to get away to a corner. To reflect, enjoy, rejuvenate, and simply be. This last week was filled with divine moments. I witnessed one of the most beautiful weddings. I danced in celebration until my feet hurt. I delivered the best MOH speech of all time. I read often. I sat in silence for hours. I rode in a horse-drawn carriage. I ate lots of shrimp. I ran barefoot on the beach. I fished on the ocean and caught a skate and a bull-nosed shark. I climbed a light house. I listened to good music. And I rested. This last week on St. Simon's Island was mercy dabbed on my worn-out, tired old self. 

Praise the Lord for His mercy, new and fresh with each morning. 

May you take yourself to the corner of the boxing ring of life. May you rest and be refreshed by the unending supply of mercy from heaven. 

airplanes and imperfections

From way up there, the fields look perfectly square, the roads have the smoothest pavement, the houses are symmetrical, and vehicles are clean. From thousands of feet in the air, the world below looks like it's exactly as it should be.

The most remarkable sight from the airplane though, is the clouds. White, large, and fluffy. Looking out the circular window, I imagine I could hop from one cloud to another, utterly weightless. And I could grab a handful of that white cloud, stick it in my mouth as it crystallizes and melts into my saliva like cotton candy. When I look down on the clouds, they look large and still. From the top, the clouds look like they don't float or easily change shape. They simply are.

When I'm in an airplane, I see a piece of heaven.

We all yearn for that, the feeling that everything is as it should be. When we catch a glimpse of it, we strive to do anything to keep it from slipping through our fingers. But it does, eventually. Because life is never exactly as it should be. Not yet anyway.

From the airplane, I can't see the bugs destroying the crop or the pot hole in the road. From the airplane, I can't see the paint chipping off the house or the dent in the bumper of the car. But I know they exist.

From the airplane, you can't see me roll my eyes. From the airplane, you can't see my impatience, my negative thoughts, or my envy. From the airplane, everything looks like heaven. I'm not perfect. I untag myself in pictures that make me look like I have a double chin. I use Nair on my upper lip hair. I curl my eyelashes. I paint the skin around my toenails to make my toe nails look bigger than they are. It's all a facade. And I'm not alone.

Because we want things to be as they should be. But they're not. Wrinkles, freckles, bald spots, cankles, muffin  tops...they remind us that this is life. Life changes and it's not perfect. And not perfect is exactly as it should be.

Someday, things will be perfect. Someday, restoration and renewal will spring forth and new things will be made. But not yet.