The Hardest Part of Life

How does one get past their pride and their fear?

Theory of Everything

I find that I have a lot that I want to talk about. On the list today are: organ transplants, “graceful” interruptions, friendship, imagination, chaos theory, Europe, neuroscience, and the patience of fighting. They have come from the seminary pastor, an article (page 9), a friend, pictures on the wall, the odd fellow sitting across from me, and even a Harry Potter movie. Ordinarily, one would not think that organ transplants had anything to do with finding a call at a church. And ordinarily one would not think that neuroscience had anything to do with coffee shops. But they do. They really do. At least in my mind they do, which brings us to perhaps the one logical connection here: that chaos theory has everything to do with the state of my mind.

So I wanted to write posts today about all of these things, giving myself the opportunity to form into words all of the wisdom that has been given to me today. But as they accumulated, perhaps a “greater” wisdom was found: that there is a great deal of sustenance to be found in the everyday workings of life. Or that my mind works on overload to analyze the small things – I haven’t quite decided which of those two things it is yet. But for now, I’ll assume that at least the former is true and assert that the things that bring life and faith and imagination are the very ordinary things of each day. It’s not so much that I “learned” something today, although I could certainly say that as well. But it wasn’t learning in the sense of acquired knowledge – it was more that I was reminded of things I already knew, but had temporarily forgotten. And I heard thoughts that helped me rearrange how I viewed certain parts of my life. And I have found these reminders and “vision adjusters” to be the catalysts of my continued hope, motivation, imagination, and peace. Or, in other words, the catalysts of my sustenance.

So praise God for the man in white tube socks, untied black shoes, blue shorts, and fleece jacket who sits in the coffee shop trying finger-meditation-exercises while reading How God Changes Your Brain. Because it is this man - or really the presence and observance of this type of man - that prompts these musings and makes life interesting.

An Encounter with Moldova

Every once in a while – ok, a lot more than that – but every once in a while I’m reminded about how I wish I were better at languages than I am. Or rather that I were more dedicated in learning them. There was a man who came into the campus center today trying to find some papers that had been recycled that shouldn’t have been. He couldn’t have been more than sixty, but had gray and greasy hair –that he was definitely losing, he hadn’t bothered to take the size sticker off of his pants, his glasses only had one ear piece, and I saw only two teeth – one of which, was silver. He was from Moldova, but came to the U.S. ten years ago when he married his wife, who had been a missionary there. His English was good, but he obviously had to think about it.

Now, it can be tricky to try and speak Russian with anyone from a former territory, based purely on the generally unhappy memories that it triggers, but it’s also sometimes nice to be able to speak with someone in a language that they’re likely more comfortable with. And while Moldovans don’t technically speak Russian, they were under Russian and Soviet rule for much of their history. Plus, some of the words that came out as he was thinking were Russian, so it would have been nice to at least see how it would have worked to try to speak to him. But, I haven’t spoken any substantial Russian for five years, so that wasn’t really an option.

Unaware of my inner dialogue, the man talked with me as he was searching through paper about what prayer does, about how culture and society and psychology affect our theology, about Serbia and Slovenia, and about how one should email themselves with information they want instead of writing it on paper that can get lost. And then as he was leaving I was finally able to get out “good day” in Russian to him. He walked out the door, then came back and started asking me – in Russian – if I spoke the language. I answered in English, but he continued to ask me simple questions in Russian, apparently delighted that I knew anything. And he then went on to talk some more about Eastern European history and how there were different websites where I could practice Russian. And somewhere in there he managed to flip into German…prompting a whole other discussion.

I enjoy these earth-wandering types. And I tend to run into them a lot. My Russian helped in talking to my next-door neighbor several years ago who spoke no English, and also with local customers who came into my Starbucks . My German not only ended up getting me out of stranded and frustrating situations in Turkey, Italy, and Denmark, but it helps in conversation with the guy who manages the convenience store on the corner here. And I have close friends who are fluent in both. It’s not just in far-off lands that these languages show up – they’ve been in the middle of the communities I live in here in the States. So one would think that, by this point in my life, it would have sunk in that it would be helpful to actually learn these languages that I’ve started. But it hasn’t. Not really, anyway. I’ll go home, look at the textbooks, find the words and grammar charts slightly amusing and tempting… and then decide that watching movies is more fun.

Green as Carrots

So my question was: “going green…is it trendy or will it stick around?”. And so I will tell you about my neighbor’s friend. Now I should know the name of said neighbor, but I don’t. And I don’t think I’d ever met her friend outside of this one encounter. But apparently this neighbor’s friend was familiar with my trash.

In Germany, “green” isn’t really a popular trend…it’s more of a…commandment. If I remember correctly, there were seven different bins at our apartment – only one was for actual trash. Our office building was powered entirely by solar panels (and enough power was left over to sell and make a profit on). And while many people own cars, most rely on public transportation (at least in Berlin). Which is why, when the operators of these lovely modes of transportation go on strike, no one can get anywhere, because those of us on foot have to walk or bike across the city of 3.5 million to get to our destination, and those with cars suddenly brought them all out at once and created total gridlock.

Anyway, it took me awhile to really live into this “green commandment” while I was over there. One doesn’t really think a whole lot about these things while living in the middle-of-nowhere Nebraska (and really, it would be a lot of effort on the part of the rural person who wanted to be environmentally conscious), and neither college nor seminary really taught me the importance of it. So a few months into my stay there, I came out of my apartment and was greeted by this very small, very animated, and somewhat elderly, woman. She wasn’t really yelling at me, but was very firm and direct in telling me that I wasn’t separating my trash correctly and I needed to start doing that. I got a lecture, in German, about how important it was to make sure that I was doing my part for the environment. That meant, in this case, that it wasn’t enough to separate out pop bottles and paper from trash. There’s also compost, metal, other plastics, and…well, a few others that I can’t remember right now. And many, many more for the truly dedicated. Now, I have no idea how they knew that I wasn’t separating out compost and metals (tin foil and staples and such). And I was not the most gracious of recipients to this particular woman’s lecture. But it did make me more careful and more “accurate” with my trash.

So then I came back to the States, and found that no one really even recycles paper. Public transportation is horrendous, and I don’t know of a single building in my area that uses solar panels. So it’s a “trend” that’s still in severe need of some love and attention.

Therefore, in an effort to encourage one small thing people can do here, I’m going to direct you to the website of an absolutely FABULOUS organization called Carrotmob. Here, businesses compete with one another about how much “good” they will do environmentally if their business “wins”. Carrotmob picks the best store each time, sends out email notifications to you, the consumer, and then you commit to buying (what you would already normally buy) at that particular store. The store gets publicity, profit, and they help the environment. It came about as an alternative to protests, rallies, and boycotts. There’s a fun, animated video at this site and there are tabs at the top for FAQs, “about” it, organizing, etc. Check it out! http://carrotmob.org

Hmmmmmm

So apparently I haven't posted in about 4 months. Fascinating. So therefore, the first person who remembers this blog exists, is bored enough to check it, and gives me a topic to post on...that I will do. Hope your year is going well!

The State of Humanity

I sometimes feel as though I receive far more than I deserve. In reality, the only thing I have "accomplished" is schoolwork. In reality, the only thing I have "given", is friendship. Neither of these demand recognition or payment, hospitality or service. I am not great at anything, and I struggle (at least internally) through most. And despite often feeling as though I need to prove myself, I have received far more respect, honor, and grace than I could ever come close to deserving in a lifetime.

So a friend of mine was talking today, as usual, about the state of humanity - the state of society. He is almost always negative about it, fearing for the end of civilization as we know it. But in the face of yet another time of being humbled in the face of others' grace, I am unwilling to go there. There is evil in this world; I have come to expect sin. But hospitality is also alive. Faith is active. Respect is present. And it's because of this reality that I am who I am and I have received what I have. Humanity might not be on the fastest track to utopia (however that is defined), but it surely has an undying hope and drive to it. And for the individuals who have aimed, at least in part, their hope and hospitality towards me, I am profoundly grateful.

Just Do It

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about forgiveness lately. It seems as though people tend to categorize forgiveness as something that is black and white. Julie stole my pen, I forgive her, all is well. It is simply something that we “do”. We’re taught it from birth and, while a “good” explanation of what it is doesn’t ever really come around, we talk about it as if we have one. Perhaps it’s yet another thing that is like the wind; we can’t see it or really define it, but we know it’s there and we know the consequences of it. But for all of this uncertainty, there are some strong beliefs as to its consequences; much more far-reaching than getting over the fact that someone stole my favorite pen, many of us see this one, simple action as supposedly able to immediately cure all anger, mend all relationships, and be the cornerstone to world peace. If only we could all forgive one another our faults, the world would be a much better place.

Perhaps this is true and my cynicism has reached new lengths. And as someone who has been on the receiving end of great feats of forgiveness, I know what a powerful thing it truly is. But it seems to me that “forgiveness” is more than simply “forgiveness”; and it also seems to me that in order to even attempt this phenomenon of forgiveness, we have to know what it is that we’re supposed to be forgiving in the first place.

I ran into this problem when I was told that I was supposed to “forgive him” – I think specifically in relation to one person, but an entire host of situations were also referenced. I felt offended, wronged even. Not only is this person not aware of what has all happened, but I knew that part of this “situation” involved not only “him”, but the person ordering me to forgive, and also me. If we are truly going to go down this path, then a lot more than the actions of one person need to be sorted out. But I thought about what she said to me anyway, and now I don’t know what to do with it. Forgiveness is something that is good, but I don’t know that I can actually do it – and I truly mean can. The benefits of forgiving people and situations far outweigh those of maintaining pride and defensiveness. But I don’t know, exactly, what it is that I’m forgiving. The more I examine the “situation”, the more I don’t know what the “cause” of it all is. And the technical actions that spurred the anger? Symptoms. Is it possible to “forgive” symptoms? And if it is, is that what we should be focusing on anyway?

So ok. Maybe I don’t have a clear definition. I should therefore simply “forgive” all related things and people as a whole and go on with my happy life, yes? I don’t think it works that way. Rather than a simple decision, isn’t forgiveness an ongoing, active commitment to creating something new out of the scars? It’s not to forget what has happened, it’s not to condone it, it’s not to force one and all to start back at square one. But isn’t it a continued relationship with all involved and attempts at understanding and growth? That, I think, is what forgiveness is. It will never be perfect, it will never be simple or clearly defined; but it is the reality of hurt reconciliation.

So yes, I have angry bitterness and deep hurt and an incredible lack of understanding. But I am continuing to try, and I have an overall sense of joy. I have not forgiven in the sense of completely “letting it go”, but I have forgiven in the sense of allowing those who have wronged me (including myself) the privilege of informing my life and work and faith. I am honoring one and all involved by using the years of hurt to understand myself and the world and God more accurately; I am using it to affect much-needed change within myself.

Perhaps it’s a both/and. The continued hurt is needed to prompt the continued struggle and process of understanding. But the “simple” forgiveness is needed to even begin that process of reconciliation. Maybe I can “just do it”. Too bad many things are easier said than done, especially when no instruction manual is given.

Silly Putty

Well, I’ve moved back to the land of entire aisles filled only with different types of shampoo, where driving on the interstate is scary (seriously, I drove for the first time in a year last night and I was afraid), where everyone (or mostly everyone) speaks English but no one rides a bike, and I can get groceries at 7:00 in the morning or at midnight and on a SUNDAY, if I wanted to. And my poor room-mate has had to answer questions like, “how much do you tip at a restaurant?” and “can I turn right on a red light?”, and they’ve been asked in all seriousness. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Crappy, inside-gut-turning, mostly.

Or maybe it’s similar to feeling like silly putty. In the past week – or in the past month, really – I feel like I’ve been stretched, pulled, snapped, bounced, and molded into all sorts of crazy shapes. My supervisors and the secretary at my church left for a month and I was there alone, they came back and all of a sudden internship was over, my sister got engaged, my financial situation changed drastically, I had to say “auf wiedersehen” in the midst of some of the most wonderful relationships I have ever had, I flew back from Germany and am dealing with jet-lag and a “new” culture, my entire life is sitting in boxes in my living room, and I’m trying to figure out what it means to start my previous relationships up again. I’m the same color, I have the same mannerisms and the same name... but I feel like some kid is using my life as a toy. I keep experiencing all of these changes, but I’m not able to understand them, I’m not able to control them; I simply fold like silly putty.

But at the same time, it doesn’t just work that way. Humans think, question, are stubborn, resist change, and generally have the need to understand and comprehend. To make sense of things. Changes will come and surprises will occur, but they’re not always taken as exciting new things to add to the wonder of life. They’re difficult and come with a lot of pain. There’s a required, if not unconscious, process of transformation that happens. Instead of being like silly putty and simply changing from one form to the next, the old informs the new; it influences it for better or worse. A day cannot be taken back and an experience can’t be relived; a previous shape cannot be made again. So while the appearance of the person may stay exactly the same, and many of the personality traits remain intact, the substance alters. And when something new - when a “different” person – enters back into an “old” situation, it doesn’t work very well. What once felt right and comfortable, now feels overwhelming and a bit frightening. And it’s exciting, too; it’s a chance to understand life from a new perspective; it’s fun to remember how much certain people mean to you. And in my particular instance, I have the wonderful luxury of having a year to reflect and question and try to come to an understanding of what has happened and how I can use it for both the present and the future. And not only to do that, but to do that among and with friends. But still, sometimes it would be nice if we humans had more of the properties of silly putty. The changes, though interesting (if not exciting), would many times be a bit easier if we were capable of simply fitting into the mold we were currently asked to fit.

Kongeriket Noreg

This whole year I've heard people talk about Canada and have seriously started to consider moving there after graduation. It's supposed to be this mixture of the States and Europe, which would be perfect for me. And the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada trades pastors with the ELCA, so no problem there, either. Maybe I'd try to get placed in Vancouver.

However. Last night, in one of my wonderful evenings with a non-church friend (Yay for geographically-close-non-church friends, by the way. This one, at least, provides my sanity.), I was shown this video. He's Norwegian, and tells me that everything in here is true and also that he's never actually heard of anyone getting the 21-year sentence that is mentioned. Oh, and one thing that's not mentioned in the video: their biggest problem? The country has too much money (Seriously. Mainly because the state owns their all of their oil fields.). It's like fairy-tale land.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=YxLag-EXiZk

I'm moving to Norway.

Strike!

Berlin has 3 major modes of public transportation: buses, the U-Bahn (subway), and the S-Bahn (street train). Since August or so, the S-Bahn has been trying to gain a completely new contract, and did so by asking for a 30-something% raise, which they knew they wouldn't get but thought it would force people to draft a new one. So there were many days over many weeks when it wasn't running. And other than having all of the buses and U-Bahns delayed because of traffic overload (Berlin is a city of 3.5 million), it didn't matter to me much personally that this was happening. Although, many people just don't ever use their cars because it's easier to take public transportation or because of the environment (they actually care about that over here :-P). So having this traffic-insanity just causes a lot of accidents.

However. Today both the bus and the U-Bahn workers decided to also go on strike. And I rely almost entirely on their services. The S-Bahn is running, but it's a 20 minute walk to the nearest station, and even then it doesn't get me anywhere close to the church office.

The amazing thing in all of this is that, while it makes life substantially more difficult for the vast majority of Berliners, no one seems incredibly upset about it. The general opinion is that this is something that the transportation workers need to fight for, and so they will fight with them. They will drive their cars for a while or find alternate routes to work or some such thing. This is great; it shows solidarity, pressing for workers' rights and fair wages, which theoretically helps the economy (and Berlin, as a city, is completely bankrupt), etc., etc. But it's hard to be excited about that when, in an effort to help their work situation, I can't even get to mine. Well, I can. I just have to ride my bike. And riding a bike in Berlin is just a whole other story for a whole other time...