“Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.” ~Aldous Huxley, English writer, humanist, pacifist (1894-1963)
I sat in the late afternoon shade of our patio staring at the oleander in the corner of our back yard. Though it was dead and void of greenery it was captivating. The intricacy, texture, complexity and even the relatively dull colors had captured me. Teresa waited patiently for me to return my attention to the conversation we had been having over our evening meal. Between the anesthetic fog, and the results of the surgery, I had been distracted most of the day; staring at things for prolonged periods.
At 7:30 that morning I had been wheeled into a small surgical theater. Draped, drugged and at the mercy of the gowned specialists swirling around me in a precise ballet of preparation. They had marked an ‘R’ over my right eye so the doctor knew which one to repair. I giggled to myself wondering if they had marked my shoes in a similar fashion.
“Are you comfortable” the lady with the shower cap asked. “Uh huh” I managed to respond. In what seemed like moments I heard a disembodied voice, “It looks good” and something like drapery was pulled from around my face. The room I had entered feet first I was now exiting head first. Another shower cap & gown bedecked person was helping me sit up and offering me water or coffee. No contest there: “Coffee please.” I needed to wake up.
During my brief period of “twilight sleep” the surgeon had used a laser to make a tiny incision in my right eye. My existing lens, replete with a large ripe cataract, was obliterated using ultrasonic vibrations then vacuumed away. A new artificial lens was slipped into place through the same incision and seated where the old one had been. The result? I now had 20/20 vision, uncorrected (which in and of itself is an oxymoron).
After several years of dimming sight and gradually increasing difficulty with everything requiring my vision I now saw the world anew; literally through a different set of eyes. And so I stared at the oleander, at everything; reconnecting with what I had missed.
“You never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone” (Bob Dylan’s “Big Yellow Taxi”). We often take things, like our sight or our health, for granted, simply because they are always there. It is, therefore, scarcity, not abundance which makes us aware of and grateful for the many gifts we are given each day. When the gifts we receive from God become expected however, we no longer perceive them as gifts and in turn cease to be grateful for them.
Most of us wake each morning expecting to have a roof over our heads, food on the table, fresh water on tap, a job to go to and a car to get us there. As our wealth and possessions grow so do our expectations and our gratitude, in turn, diminishes. Have you ever said to someone, “I need a new car” or “a new television” or “a new laptop”? But do we really “need” it or is it our expectations talking? We can easily become a kind of possession junky, requiring more and more stuff to satiate our self.
Some years ago Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis made a very generous financial gift to a charity. When she presented the check she remarked offhandedly, “I wish I could give you more, but I’m not that rich.” Jackie Onassis? “Not that rich???” Yet, in her frame of reference, she was not that rich simple because her expectations of what were necessities were so high. Expectations become entitlements and blind us to God’s gifts.
This, in some ways, explains why the poor sometimes seem to be more grateful than the rich. Logically more gifts should generate more gratitude, but it actually operates in the reverse: the more scarcity the greater the gratitude.
One way to prevent being anesthetized by our possessions is to do “charity work”. This does not mean writing more checks, rather it means donating more time, volunteering. Volunteerism is a simple way of reconnecting ourselves with scarcity; with need. It is a way for us to experience poverty, illness, homelessness, unemployment, aging, even death on a first hand basis and often without risk. It gives us the opportunity to see reality through the eyes of another. It resets our expectations to more reasonable levels and allows us to be grateful again.
Though I had experienced blindness, thanks to modern technology I was never really in danger of being blind, and yet I have a renewed joy in being sighted. It is common for people who do a lot of volunteer work to remark, “I get more out of it than I put into it.” This comes, not only from the joy of helping others, but from the recognition of the many gifts we have and a renewed gratitude for having received them. If we are to avoid being blinded by our many gifts we must look through the eyes of those who are deprived of them.
Dear God, remind me constantly to be grateful for everything which I have.
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” ~Cynthia Ozick, American short story writer, novelist, essayist (b1928)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wake Up!
“Live in the present and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering.” ~source unknown
The atmosphere was filled with energy and old memories…some good…some not so good. Even though the place had been renovated since the last time I had been there it felt the same...the same substantive, speckled terrazzo floor beneath my feet…the same cold wash from the banks of fluorescent lights…the same long glass display cases full of trophies. There I stood, at the intersection of two hallways, in the nerve center of the High School from which I had graduated nearly four decades before. I had returned to share in a Memorial Day weekend of reunions, retirements and reminiscing.
It had been a weekend I had approached with anticipation, but now I wasn’t so sure. Some of the old angst and awkwardness was starting to creep back in. Only moments before I had clumsily extricated myself from a conversation in which I unsuccessfully tried to bluff my way around admitting I didn’t recognize someone. The attempt had been, needless to say, a disaster and left me feeling unsure of myself.
Now engaged in a more comfortable conversation with another “alumnus,” who was sharing a humorous story about one of our classmates, I was regaining some of my composure. The punch line to the story was truly funny and we shared a good laugh together. In the momentary pause between the cessation of the laughter and the resumption of the conversation came a voice from behind me. “Jim? Jim Carper?” I turned and came face to face with someone I had not seen for thirty eight years. Debbie looked at me for only an instant. “Jim, I knew that was you.” “I recognized you by your laugh!”
Amongst the famous and the infamous, Barbara Walters once interviewed television actor, James Garner. Her final question of the interview was, “How do you want to be remembered?” Without hesitation he responded, “With a smile.”
How will our voice be remembered? Will it be strident with aggression? Will it be muted with neglect or self absorption? Will it be remembered because the only pronouns we used were me, myself and I? Or, perhaps our voice will never be remembered because our possessions left so strong an impression our personae disappeared in the glare.
We leave a wake in the world, just as surly as a Chris-Craft gliding through a busy harbor or a stone cast into the mirror-like surface of a pond; we leave ripples, wakes and waves in the world. This lingering resonance is the consequence of living our lives. Short of complete seclusion none of us can pass through life without consequence…without leaving our mark, temporary though it may be. Even choosing to do nothing has its affect. Our wake is unavoidable and we are stewards of those reverberations. This wake of ours can gently rock others, caress them, comfort them. Or, it can be dissonant; disturbing others, jostling them; capsizing their lives.
Surprisingly, to be stewards of our own wake, to leave the best possible resonance in the world, we must do so by caring for the present; the here and now. After all, our wake, what we leave behind, is simply the reverberations of our present actions …of what breaks upon our bow today as we forge ahead through life.
What will the resonance of today’s actions look like when later we glance over our shoulder? Will our life be a nurturing resonance, like water lapping on the shore or will it break across the lives of others like a wave swamping a helpless boat. Whatever it is, it will be determined by the decisions we make and the actions we take right here, right now.
Dear God, if people only remember me by one thing, let it be the resonance of my laughter.
“Looking back you realize a very special person passed briefly through your life – and it was you. It is not too late to find that person again.” ~Robert Brault, identified as software writer and poet.
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
The atmosphere was filled with energy and old memories…some good…some not so good. Even though the place had been renovated since the last time I had been there it felt the same...the same substantive, speckled terrazzo floor beneath my feet…the same cold wash from the banks of fluorescent lights…the same long glass display cases full of trophies. There I stood, at the intersection of two hallways, in the nerve center of the High School from which I had graduated nearly four decades before. I had returned to share in a Memorial Day weekend of reunions, retirements and reminiscing.
It had been a weekend I had approached with anticipation, but now I wasn’t so sure. Some of the old angst and awkwardness was starting to creep back in. Only moments before I had clumsily extricated myself from a conversation in which I unsuccessfully tried to bluff my way around admitting I didn’t recognize someone. The attempt had been, needless to say, a disaster and left me feeling unsure of myself.
Now engaged in a more comfortable conversation with another “alumnus,” who was sharing a humorous story about one of our classmates, I was regaining some of my composure. The punch line to the story was truly funny and we shared a good laugh together. In the momentary pause between the cessation of the laughter and the resumption of the conversation came a voice from behind me. “Jim? Jim Carper?” I turned and came face to face with someone I had not seen for thirty eight years. Debbie looked at me for only an instant. “Jim, I knew that was you.” “I recognized you by your laugh!”
Amongst the famous and the infamous, Barbara Walters once interviewed television actor, James Garner. Her final question of the interview was, “How do you want to be remembered?” Without hesitation he responded, “With a smile.”
How will our voice be remembered? Will it be strident with aggression? Will it be muted with neglect or self absorption? Will it be remembered because the only pronouns we used were me, myself and I? Or, perhaps our voice will never be remembered because our possessions left so strong an impression our personae disappeared in the glare.
We leave a wake in the world, just as surly as a Chris-Craft gliding through a busy harbor or a stone cast into the mirror-like surface of a pond; we leave ripples, wakes and waves in the world. This lingering resonance is the consequence of living our lives. Short of complete seclusion none of us can pass through life without consequence…without leaving our mark, temporary though it may be. Even choosing to do nothing has its affect. Our wake is unavoidable and we are stewards of those reverberations. This wake of ours can gently rock others, caress them, comfort them. Or, it can be dissonant; disturbing others, jostling them; capsizing their lives.
Surprisingly, to be stewards of our own wake, to leave the best possible resonance in the world, we must do so by caring for the present; the here and now. After all, our wake, what we leave behind, is simply the reverberations of our present actions …of what breaks upon our bow today as we forge ahead through life.
What will the resonance of today’s actions look like when later we glance over our shoulder? Will our life be a nurturing resonance, like water lapping on the shore or will it break across the lives of others like a wave swamping a helpless boat. Whatever it is, it will be determined by the decisions we make and the actions we take right here, right now.
Dear God, if people only remember me by one thing, let it be the resonance of my laughter.
“Looking back you realize a very special person passed briefly through your life – and it was you. It is not too late to find that person again.” ~Robert Brault, identified as software writer and poet.
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Sharpest Tool?
“No one can whistle a symphony. It takes an orchestra to play it.” ~ H.E. Luccock, Homiletics professor, Yale Divinity School and author (1885-1960)
Ryan invited his friends over to “talk shop”. They were all gamers. "Game speak" was their language and they loved talking the techno talk. Ryan, Marshal, Efran and Chad were deeply engrossed in discussion about “Marston”, the seemingly ambivalent, former outlaw hero of “Red Dead Redemption,” when Ryan’s father wandered into the kitchen. He quietly opened the refrigerator door, extracted the ice tea pitcher and poured himself a glass. Leaning against the granite counter top, Ryan’s dad sipped his tea, casually listening to the animated discussion.
Chad, who had been holding forth on a particular point, with which no one was agreeing, suddenly turned to the father; “What do you think of ‘Red Dead Redemption’ Mr. Carper?” he asked suddenly. Ryan’s dad put his glass down and considered the question for a moment. “I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he responded finally. “But then again, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed either,” he concluded, taking another sip of tea. Chad thought for a moment. “It really doesn’t matter if you’re the sharpest tool in the shed,” replied Chad…“As long as you’re the hammer!”
A well stocked tool box holds many tools for many purposes: measuring, cutting, squaring, marking, attaching, and even clamping (holding things together). It would be nearly impossible to build a structure with only one tool. Likewise it is impossible to build a world with people who all share the same skill (gift) or skill set (set of gifts). We are all occupants of God’s tool box, each gifted with our own set of unique skills, each of us with a purpose in this world; a purpose which is blended with the purposes of others.
Unfortunately, being “gifted” has come to be confused with being superior: possessing skills or skill levels greater than those of others, particularly in the areas of intelligence and sports. A well meaning elementary school psychologist once remarked she was very sorry our our child wasn’t gifted. Rather our child was “highly socialized with an above average vocabulary.” “Aren’t those gifts too?” my wife asked innocently.
Every one of us is uniquely gifted and, as such we are all necessary to this world. Yet, we seek affiliation rather than cooperation. When we build organizations, when we create committees, even when we choose our friends we seek “belonging” by gravitating to those who share similar skills or interests. When choosing friends this simply guarantees we will never be challenged and life will be very “same old, same old,” but with organizations it can be a road to ruin.
If a committee is made up of “planners” nothing will ever be implemented. If it is comprised of creative types, great ideas will be proposed, but no plan of action will ever be determined. A committee of implementers will be constantly implementing, but with no plan of attack and without the likelihood of ever finishing. Unfortunately, such a situation will often feel very comfortable because everyone is happily doing what they like to do.
God gifted us all differently and uniquely for a reason. We are part of a much bigger plan and so are those around us. It may seem somewhat counter intuitive, but we can accomplish much more when we work with those who are gifted differently, who share different perspectives, than those whose gifts are similar to ours. A tool box filled with saws, or heaped with hammers, or comprised totally of tape measures is useless in the long run. Yet we tend to build our lives and our organizations around a desire for affiliation, rather than a need for diversity.
Either we have to be like everyone else or everyone else has to be like us. Not only is this approach ineffective, it is down right dull. Harmony comes from many different tones, not the same tone. God gifted us all differently with the intention of us working together, compensating for one another and, in so doing, building a better world. It matters not if we are a hammer, a saw or even a “square”.
Dear God: Remind me daily that “none of us is as smart as all of us” (Ken Blanchard).
“Synergy is the highest activity of life; it creates new untapped alternatives; it values and exploits the mental, emotional, and psychological differences between people.” ~Stephen Covey, author, speaker, professor, consultant (b1932)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Ryan invited his friends over to “talk shop”. They were all gamers. "Game speak" was their language and they loved talking the techno talk. Ryan, Marshal, Efran and Chad were deeply engrossed in discussion about “Marston”, the seemingly ambivalent, former outlaw hero of “Red Dead Redemption,” when Ryan’s father wandered into the kitchen. He quietly opened the refrigerator door, extracted the ice tea pitcher and poured himself a glass. Leaning against the granite counter top, Ryan’s dad sipped his tea, casually listening to the animated discussion.
Chad, who had been holding forth on a particular point, with which no one was agreeing, suddenly turned to the father; “What do you think of ‘Red Dead Redemption’ Mr. Carper?” he asked suddenly. Ryan’s dad put his glass down and considered the question for a moment. “I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he responded finally. “But then again, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed either,” he concluded, taking another sip of tea. Chad thought for a moment. “It really doesn’t matter if you’re the sharpest tool in the shed,” replied Chad…“As long as you’re the hammer!”
A well stocked tool box holds many tools for many purposes: measuring, cutting, squaring, marking, attaching, and even clamping (holding things together). It would be nearly impossible to build a structure with only one tool. Likewise it is impossible to build a world with people who all share the same skill (gift) or skill set (set of gifts). We are all occupants of God’s tool box, each gifted with our own set of unique skills, each of us with a purpose in this world; a purpose which is blended with the purposes of others.
Unfortunately, being “gifted” has come to be confused with being superior: possessing skills or skill levels greater than those of others, particularly in the areas of intelligence and sports. A well meaning elementary school psychologist once remarked she was very sorry our our child wasn’t gifted. Rather our child was “highly socialized with an above average vocabulary.” “Aren’t those gifts too?” my wife asked innocently.
Every one of us is uniquely gifted and, as such we are all necessary to this world. Yet, we seek affiliation rather than cooperation. When we build organizations, when we create committees, even when we choose our friends we seek “belonging” by gravitating to those who share similar skills or interests. When choosing friends this simply guarantees we will never be challenged and life will be very “same old, same old,” but with organizations it can be a road to ruin.
If a committee is made up of “planners” nothing will ever be implemented. If it is comprised of creative types, great ideas will be proposed, but no plan of action will ever be determined. A committee of implementers will be constantly implementing, but with no plan of attack and without the likelihood of ever finishing. Unfortunately, such a situation will often feel very comfortable because everyone is happily doing what they like to do.
God gifted us all differently and uniquely for a reason. We are part of a much bigger plan and so are those around us. It may seem somewhat counter intuitive, but we can accomplish much more when we work with those who are gifted differently, who share different perspectives, than those whose gifts are similar to ours. A tool box filled with saws, or heaped with hammers, or comprised totally of tape measures is useless in the long run. Yet we tend to build our lives and our organizations around a desire for affiliation, rather than a need for diversity.
Either we have to be like everyone else or everyone else has to be like us. Not only is this approach ineffective, it is down right dull. Harmony comes from many different tones, not the same tone. God gifted us all differently with the intention of us working together, compensating for one another and, in so doing, building a better world. It matters not if we are a hammer, a saw or even a “square”.
Dear God: Remind me daily that “none of us is as smart as all of us” (Ken Blanchard).
“Synergy is the highest activity of life; it creates new untapped alternatives; it values and exploits the mental, emotional, and psychological differences between people.” ~Stephen Covey, author, speaker, professor, consultant (b1932)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Reception Perception
“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” ~Source unknown
“Dammit!” The side view mirror of the big, black, SUV whisked past my face, narrowly missing my nose by only an inch or two. The driver kept going, oblivious to the fact he had nearly given me a frontal lobotomy. It was Friday evening at Saint Monica’s Catholic Community and all heaven was breaking loose. Concurrently there was a High School musical, a Confirmation rehearsal, with a reception to follow, and the Young Ministering Adults were holding one of their famous “Coffee Houses”. Adding a layer of complexity, one of the ministries was conducting an unscheduled drop off of food, clothing and toys. Some of their delivery vehicles were double parked in the lot blocking one of the exit routes.
The head of our parking ministry was stranded at work and the usual backups were unavailable. I stepped in to try to help out until the ministry head got there, but within minutes I realized why I don’t do parking ministry. My only saving grace was a group of volunteers from the Santa Monica Community College Honor Society who help out from time to time. Our neighbor, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, had offered up half of their parking lot to take some of the pressure off ours.
The “drill” was simple, or seemingly so. Armed with sheets of directions to alternate parking lots my partner (a college student who hailed from Hong Kong) and I stopped each car at the front entrance to discern what event they were attending, were they dropping off or parking, did they need a handicap spot, and the general size of the vehicle (some of our parking spaces are bigger than others). As it turned out, it wasn’t simple at all.
It was readily apparent each driver arrived at the edge of our domain with their own unique combination of objectives, attitudes and expectations. What was mystifying is all the events they were attending were pleasant, joyful, entertaining or meaningful and yet we found ourselves confronting stress, angst, aggression, impatience and varying degrees of frustration. Our “one size fits all” approach wasn’t working. It was time for a new game plan. So, instead of focusing on what we wanted (getting the maximum number of cars in a minimum of space in the shortest time possible), we adjusted our approach. We tried to discern what the drivers wanted.
We turned up the charm level to near “overly friendly” and asked questions such as, “do you need to be closer to the event location or would you prefer a quick getaway?” If they were just picking up or dropping off we showed them where they could park temporarily and the easiest egress. If they had a particularly nice car (or a particularly large one) we suggested alternate parking areas where their “nice car wouldn’t get dinged.” If someone walked up, having obviously parked elsewhere, we thanked them for doing so. The process was still hectic, but we soon discovered we were enjoying ourselves and before we knew it the events had started and our task was over. I sent the college students to the food line at the reception. It was after 8:00 PM and I still had a 45 minute drive home. I headed for my car sensing my own angst over the long drive.
Business consultants will tell you the most important employee in any company is the receptionist. Everybody’s first impression of a company comes from the person who greets them (or didn’t greet them). This applies to the world at large as well. Whenever we encounter another human being we are the face of whatever we represent at the time. Whether we are greeting a person in the lobby of our business, the driveway or the doorway of our church, the reception area of a funeral home or even at our own front door, at that moment we are the face of that business, organization, group or family. When I greet a person at my front door they will draw conclusions about my family based upon their encounter with me.
The "guests" which I encountered at the driveway to Saint Monica’s parking lot drew conclusions about the parish based upon their interaction with my partner and me. Many of them allowed their evening to be conditioned by that interaction good or bad. Further, it didn’t matter the attitude they brought with them. Even if they were downright rude they evaluated the encounter based, not upon their behavior, but upon how I responded.
As Stewards of our faith…as Stewards of our Christianity we are the receptionists of our faith. People will make judgments and draw conclusions about our faith based upon their encounters with us. We are the doorways to Christianity (or whatever faith we profess) and the way people are treated at those doorways has a telling effect as to how those who didn’t know us before see us after the experience. In short, we are the face of Christ to the community.
Again, it matters not how people treat us in these encounters. They may be hateful and mean-spirited, but they will still judge us (and Christianity) upon our response; our reaction…not the stimulus to which we were reacting. The rest of their day will be colored by that encounter…good or bad. In short we are called to love them. Jesus continued to love no matter how people treated Him…even when people hated Him…even when they killed Him.
As Stewards of our faith, the practice of that faith begins, not when we arrive at church, but when we leave the church parking lot and take our faith into the world. We are receptionists at the doorway of our faith, not sentries
Dear God, teach me, not to preach the faith which I practice, but to practice the faith which I preach.
“The first impression will either open the door or close it.” ~Nicolas Sparks, American novelist and screenwriter (b 1965)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
“Dammit!” The side view mirror of the big, black, SUV whisked past my face, narrowly missing my nose by only an inch or two. The driver kept going, oblivious to the fact he had nearly given me a frontal lobotomy. It was Friday evening at Saint Monica’s Catholic Community and all heaven was breaking loose. Concurrently there was a High School musical, a Confirmation rehearsal, with a reception to follow, and the Young Ministering Adults were holding one of their famous “Coffee Houses”. Adding a layer of complexity, one of the ministries was conducting an unscheduled drop off of food, clothing and toys. Some of their delivery vehicles were double parked in the lot blocking one of the exit routes.
The head of our parking ministry was stranded at work and the usual backups were unavailable. I stepped in to try to help out until the ministry head got there, but within minutes I realized why I don’t do parking ministry. My only saving grace was a group of volunteers from the Santa Monica Community College Honor Society who help out from time to time. Our neighbor, St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, had offered up half of their parking lot to take some of the pressure off ours.
The “drill” was simple, or seemingly so. Armed with sheets of directions to alternate parking lots my partner (a college student who hailed from Hong Kong) and I stopped each car at the front entrance to discern what event they were attending, were they dropping off or parking, did they need a handicap spot, and the general size of the vehicle (some of our parking spaces are bigger than others). As it turned out, it wasn’t simple at all.
It was readily apparent each driver arrived at the edge of our domain with their own unique combination of objectives, attitudes and expectations. What was mystifying is all the events they were attending were pleasant, joyful, entertaining or meaningful and yet we found ourselves confronting stress, angst, aggression, impatience and varying degrees of frustration. Our “one size fits all” approach wasn’t working. It was time for a new game plan. So, instead of focusing on what we wanted (getting the maximum number of cars in a minimum of space in the shortest time possible), we adjusted our approach. We tried to discern what the drivers wanted.
We turned up the charm level to near “overly friendly” and asked questions such as, “do you need to be closer to the event location or would you prefer a quick getaway?” If they were just picking up or dropping off we showed them where they could park temporarily and the easiest egress. If they had a particularly nice car (or a particularly large one) we suggested alternate parking areas where their “nice car wouldn’t get dinged.” If someone walked up, having obviously parked elsewhere, we thanked them for doing so. The process was still hectic, but we soon discovered we were enjoying ourselves and before we knew it the events had started and our task was over. I sent the college students to the food line at the reception. It was after 8:00 PM and I still had a 45 minute drive home. I headed for my car sensing my own angst over the long drive.
Business consultants will tell you the most important employee in any company is the receptionist. Everybody’s first impression of a company comes from the person who greets them (or didn’t greet them). This applies to the world at large as well. Whenever we encounter another human being we are the face of whatever we represent at the time. Whether we are greeting a person in the lobby of our business, the driveway or the doorway of our church, the reception area of a funeral home or even at our own front door, at that moment we are the face of that business, organization, group or family. When I greet a person at my front door they will draw conclusions about my family based upon their encounter with me.
The "guests" which I encountered at the driveway to Saint Monica’s parking lot drew conclusions about the parish based upon their interaction with my partner and me. Many of them allowed their evening to be conditioned by that interaction good or bad. Further, it didn’t matter the attitude they brought with them. Even if they were downright rude they evaluated the encounter based, not upon their behavior, but upon how I responded.
As Stewards of our faith…as Stewards of our Christianity we are the receptionists of our faith. People will make judgments and draw conclusions about our faith based upon their encounters with us. We are the doorways to Christianity (or whatever faith we profess) and the way people are treated at those doorways has a telling effect as to how those who didn’t know us before see us after the experience. In short, we are the face of Christ to the community.
Again, it matters not how people treat us in these encounters. They may be hateful and mean-spirited, but they will still judge us (and Christianity) upon our response; our reaction…not the stimulus to which we were reacting. The rest of their day will be colored by that encounter…good or bad. In short we are called to love them. Jesus continued to love no matter how people treated Him…even when people hated Him…even when they killed Him.
As Stewards of our faith, the practice of that faith begins, not when we arrive at church, but when we leave the church parking lot and take our faith into the world. We are receptionists at the doorway of our faith, not sentries
Dear God, teach me, not to preach the faith which I practice, but to practice the faith which I preach.
“The first impression will either open the door or close it.” ~Nicolas Sparks, American novelist and screenwriter (b 1965)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs
“The image is one thing and the human being is another. It's very hard to live up to an image..." ~Elvis Presley, American singer (1935-1977)
The big two-toned green Oldsmobile rumbled along the Old National Pike (Route 40) toward Ohiopyle State Park. I sat in the back seat between my two older sisters: Bonnie and Linda. My family never took vacations, finances being what they were, but once and awhile we would take a day trip. Today we were off to see the waterfalls at Ohiopyle.
The falls are created by the Youghiogheny River Gorge which the locals affectionately refer to as “The Yough” (pronounced “Yawk”). The trip was only an hour or two, but to a youngster my age it seemed like an eternity. The only solace I had was we always stopped somewhere to eat…and I was hungry.
We passed the village of Hopwood and crossed Lickhollow road headed toward Braddock's Grave State Park and Fort Necessity after which we would turn north on Rt.381 toward Ohiopyle. A sign came into view: “Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant…5 miles” a clear indication it was time to start whining that I was hungry. A mile later we passed another sign: “4 Miles to Uncle Charlie’s…Good Eats”. I started squirming. Minutes later another… “Uncle Charlie’s…Best Food on the National Pike.” The signs had my attention. “Dad? Can we stop? I’m hungry”
The distance between signs began to shorten; the messages coming in staccato rhymes akin to the Burma Shave ads of the 50’s. “Are you hungry?” “It’s time to eat.” “Uncle Charlie’s can’t be beat.” Or, “When it comes to food, don’t be misled. Uncle Charlie’s is just ahead.” By now I was really hungry, whiney and annoying. I was told to sit still. We started up a steep grade. “Uncle Charlie’s only one mile ahead”. “Just ¾ of a mile to Uncle Charlie’s.” “World Famous Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant just ½ mile.” The car continued to climb the grade. “Hope your hungry…Uncle Charlie’s is just ahead.” “Only one quarter mile to Uncle Charlie’s...Best Food in PA.” I was craning my neck to see over the front seat. We were nearing the top of the grade. “Only 1,000 Feet to Uncle Charlie’s.”
Just at the brow of the hill the road began to bend to the right. I looked past my sister Bonnie out the window to the left. There, on the other side of the road, was Uncle Charlie’s. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open.
At the back of the expansive parking lot of dust, debris and broken pieces of asphalt was a dilapidated, deserted structure. The porch and stairs were rotted. The clapboard siding was loose, scarred and falling away in places. The asphalt shingles (those which had not already blown away) were curled and broken. There were bare patches everywhere. The windows, those which were not boarded over, were broken. Graffiti decorated most of the flat surfaces. Atop the eave, which covered the porch, was a faded, weather beaten sign, hanging askew by its few remaining nails. “Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant, Best Food on the National Pike”.
My sisters and I started laughing, clapping and pointing as Dad negotiated the gentle bend and headed back down the steep grade. We could see the backs of signs on the opposite side of the road which undoubtedly bore the same messages we had seen on our way up the hill. Guess we would be seeking nourishment elsewhere.
Signs are an important and sometimes necessary part of our lives. They provide us with useful information like the distance to our next destination or where food, gasoline or lodging can be found. Signs alert us to potential dangers ahead like slippery streets, dangerous curves or disappearing lanes. This information makes our lives easier, safer and promotes the public good.
There are, however, other signs which are not so helpful. These are the signs which we hang on one another. They read “Republican”, “Liberal”, “Christian”, “Arab”, “Immigrant”, “Fundamentalist” or “Minority”. Sadly these “signs” conjure immediate emotional responses and gross generalizations on our part. These knee-jerk responses are often the result of employing a kind of “bumper sticker” mentality as if we could make an accurate summation of a person or their world view in a few words.
We also hang out our own signs, though the messaging is usually much more subtle. These messages are conveyed by the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, the houses we live in, the titles we bear, even where we sit in our favorite restaurant or at church. These signs feed and nurture our image…the personae we present to the world, but they do little to nourish our interiority (our "self"). Unlike our image, it is our interiority which sustains us, particularly during difficult times.
Uncle Charlie’s signs lead me to believe the restaurant we were approaching was a wonderful and inviting place where we could enjoy a great meal. The reality was it was vacant and valueless, void of any nourishment. The signs were enticing, but like the Siren’s Song they lead to a destitute place, completely lacking in sustenance.
Signs are simple messages lacking the depth of a healthy self-image. Signs are, at best, inadequate and at worst dangerous generalizations. We are called to be stewards of our interior life. It is this internal life which should produce our exterior image, not the other way ‘round.
T.S. Elliott once wrote: “The final temptation is the greatest treason to do the right thing for the wrong reason”. This can easily happen if we allow our exterior image to drive our actions. If we are stewards of our interiority; if it is well nourished and maintained, our actions will most often be "for the right reasons".
Signs fall down easily. A spiritually nourished interiority endures.
Dear God: Help me to be who I am and not stress over what I appear to be.
“A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire.” ~Thomas Merton, American Trappist monk, poet, social activist, Catholic author (1915-1968)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
The big two-toned green Oldsmobile rumbled along the Old National Pike (Route 40) toward Ohiopyle State Park. I sat in the back seat between my two older sisters: Bonnie and Linda. My family never took vacations, finances being what they were, but once and awhile we would take a day trip. Today we were off to see the waterfalls at Ohiopyle.
The falls are created by the Youghiogheny River Gorge which the locals affectionately refer to as “The Yough” (pronounced “Yawk”). The trip was only an hour or two, but to a youngster my age it seemed like an eternity. The only solace I had was we always stopped somewhere to eat…and I was hungry.
We passed the village of Hopwood and crossed Lickhollow road headed toward Braddock's Grave State Park and Fort Necessity after which we would turn north on Rt.381 toward Ohiopyle. A sign came into view: “Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant…5 miles” a clear indication it was time to start whining that I was hungry. A mile later we passed another sign: “4 Miles to Uncle Charlie’s…Good Eats”. I started squirming. Minutes later another… “Uncle Charlie’s…Best Food on the National Pike.” The signs had my attention. “Dad? Can we stop? I’m hungry”
The distance between signs began to shorten; the messages coming in staccato rhymes akin to the Burma Shave ads of the 50’s. “Are you hungry?” “It’s time to eat.” “Uncle Charlie’s can’t be beat.” Or, “When it comes to food, don’t be misled. Uncle Charlie’s is just ahead.” By now I was really hungry, whiney and annoying. I was told to sit still. We started up a steep grade. “Uncle Charlie’s only one mile ahead”. “Just ¾ of a mile to Uncle Charlie’s.” “World Famous Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant just ½ mile.” The car continued to climb the grade. “Hope your hungry…Uncle Charlie’s is just ahead.” “Only one quarter mile to Uncle Charlie’s...Best Food in PA.” I was craning my neck to see over the front seat. We were nearing the top of the grade. “Only 1,000 Feet to Uncle Charlie’s.”
Just at the brow of the hill the road began to bend to the right. I looked past my sister Bonnie out the window to the left. There, on the other side of the road, was Uncle Charlie’s. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open.
At the back of the expansive parking lot of dust, debris and broken pieces of asphalt was a dilapidated, deserted structure. The porch and stairs were rotted. The clapboard siding was loose, scarred and falling away in places. The asphalt shingles (those which had not already blown away) were curled and broken. There were bare patches everywhere. The windows, those which were not boarded over, were broken. Graffiti decorated most of the flat surfaces. Atop the eave, which covered the porch, was a faded, weather beaten sign, hanging askew by its few remaining nails. “Uncle Charlie’s Tavern and Restaurant, Best Food on the National Pike”.
My sisters and I started laughing, clapping and pointing as Dad negotiated the gentle bend and headed back down the steep grade. We could see the backs of signs on the opposite side of the road which undoubtedly bore the same messages we had seen on our way up the hill. Guess we would be seeking nourishment elsewhere.
Signs are an important and sometimes necessary part of our lives. They provide us with useful information like the distance to our next destination or where food, gasoline or lodging can be found. Signs alert us to potential dangers ahead like slippery streets, dangerous curves or disappearing lanes. This information makes our lives easier, safer and promotes the public good.
There are, however, other signs which are not so helpful. These are the signs which we hang on one another. They read “Republican”, “Liberal”, “Christian”, “Arab”, “Immigrant”, “Fundamentalist” or “Minority”. Sadly these “signs” conjure immediate emotional responses and gross generalizations on our part. These knee-jerk responses are often the result of employing a kind of “bumper sticker” mentality as if we could make an accurate summation of a person or their world view in a few words.
We also hang out our own signs, though the messaging is usually much more subtle. These messages are conveyed by the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, the houses we live in, the titles we bear, even where we sit in our favorite restaurant or at church. These signs feed and nurture our image…the personae we present to the world, but they do little to nourish our interiority (our "self"). Unlike our image, it is our interiority which sustains us, particularly during difficult times.
Uncle Charlie’s signs lead me to believe the restaurant we were approaching was a wonderful and inviting place where we could enjoy a great meal. The reality was it was vacant and valueless, void of any nourishment. The signs were enticing, but like the Siren’s Song they lead to a destitute place, completely lacking in sustenance.
Signs are simple messages lacking the depth of a healthy self-image. Signs are, at best, inadequate and at worst dangerous generalizations. We are called to be stewards of our interior life. It is this internal life which should produce our exterior image, not the other way ‘round.
T.S. Elliott once wrote: “The final temptation is the greatest treason to do the right thing for the wrong reason”. This can easily happen if we allow our exterior image to drive our actions. If we are stewards of our interiority; if it is well nourished and maintained, our actions will most often be "for the right reasons".
Signs fall down easily. A spiritually nourished interiority endures.
Dear God: Help me to be who I am and not stress over what I appear to be.
“A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire.” ~Thomas Merton, American Trappist monk, poet, social activist, Catholic author (1915-1968)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Decisions, Decisions
“Every genuine crisis is potentially empowering, because it has the capacity to lead us to a greater level of authenticity and freedom.” ~Fr. Michael Casey, Australian spiritual writer and Cistercian Monk.
Letterman was doing his top 10 reasons not to live in LA when the phone started ringing. Don hit the record button on the DVR and got up to answer the phone. Locating the cordless, behind a pillow on the sofa, he clicked on. “Hello?” There was a brief pause. “Hello? Dad?” It was the voice of Don’s 22 year-old son Jason. “Is everything, OK?” Don asked quickly. “Yeh Dad, everything’s fine.” Masking the relief in his voice Don asked “What’s going on?” Faltering at first Jason began, “Well Dad, I am at this party, you know, at the Barker’s?”
Don was calmly shifting his weight from foot to foot in a gentle rocking motion. Jason continued “And, well you see somebody brought some party stuff…you know?” Trying not to over react Don smiled to himself. “No, I’m not sure I understand.” he replied calmly. “Well, somebody brought some, well you know, grass.” Don resisted the temptation to prolong his son’s agony by asking what he meant by “grass”. “You mean someone brought marijuana to the party?” he responded, still smiling. “Ah, yeh” Jason replied. “So why are you calling me?” Don inquired casually. There was a pregnant pause…. “Well, I was (ah) wondering if (um) you thought (ah) it was OK for me (um) to (ah) try it? Gratified by his son’s willingness to include him in the decision Don paused to avoid the obvious knee jerk reaction.
“Jason, you’re what, 22?” “Yeh Dad.” “Well here’s what I think. After all the talks we’ve had about how to make good decisions, I think it’s time I let you handle this one on your own.” “Besides…I trust you.” There was another long pause. “Well, ah, thanks Dad.” “Love you…I won’t be late…bye.” Don, looked at the receiver for a moment and smiled to himself. He knew what decision Jason would make. Clicking off he headed back to the DVR…and Letterman.
Our natural tendency is to make decisions for people. Particularly when they are moral decisions and particularly when the “people” in question are our kids. In doing so, however, we are doing the other person a disservice. Rather than being a steward of the process of decision making we rush to a conclusion imposing a final result. Ironically, a decision without process ceases to be a decision at all. By making choices for people we are denying them of their own journey. And a destination, with no journey, is not a destination. We must equip our loved ones for their own journeys rather than replicating the results of our own. We do so by modeling processes…by teaching others how to be stewards of their own journey.
The ends (the destination) do not justify the means (the journey). In point of fact, the means, or journey, is just as important, if not more important than the ends. In other words we need to teach good attitudes rather than hand down platitudes. “A person who has never had a crisis is one who remains forever inhibited, repressed, entrenched in delusion, and constricted by limitations so habitual they have become invisible.” (Michael Casey)
Why is the journey so important? Imagine for a moment you needed to travel to a location somewhere in a large city. If I blindfolded you and took you to that location, then left you there what good would it do? Not only would you not know how to repeat the process, you would have a very difficult time proceeding from that point. The immediate objective would have been accomplished (getting you there), but there would have been no nurturing and no growth. Making decisions for people or telling them what their decisions or beliefs should be is like giving someone only the last page of an instruction manual.
My friend Don gave Jason the whole instruction manual and taught him how to use it. When the crucial moment came Jason knew the process because he had already experienced the journey. Don had walked the path with him many times before, so Jason knew the way. Teach others how to journey and you never need worry about their destinations.
Dear God: Show me the way and I will find where it leads.
“It’s not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are.” ~Roy Disney, co-founder of the Walt Disney Company (1930-2009)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Letterman was doing his top 10 reasons not to live in LA when the phone started ringing. Don hit the record button on the DVR and got up to answer the phone. Locating the cordless, behind a pillow on the sofa, he clicked on. “Hello?” There was a brief pause. “Hello? Dad?” It was the voice of Don’s 22 year-old son Jason. “Is everything, OK?” Don asked quickly. “Yeh Dad, everything’s fine.” Masking the relief in his voice Don asked “What’s going on?” Faltering at first Jason began, “Well Dad, I am at this party, you know, at the Barker’s?”
Don was calmly shifting his weight from foot to foot in a gentle rocking motion. Jason continued “And, well you see somebody brought some party stuff…you know?” Trying not to over react Don smiled to himself. “No, I’m not sure I understand.” he replied calmly. “Well, somebody brought some, well you know, grass.” Don resisted the temptation to prolong his son’s agony by asking what he meant by “grass”. “You mean someone brought marijuana to the party?” he responded, still smiling. “Ah, yeh” Jason replied. “So why are you calling me?” Don inquired casually. There was a pregnant pause…. “Well, I was (ah) wondering if (um) you thought (ah) it was OK for me (um) to (ah) try it? Gratified by his son’s willingness to include him in the decision Don paused to avoid the obvious knee jerk reaction.
“Jason, you’re what, 22?” “Yeh Dad.” “Well here’s what I think. After all the talks we’ve had about how to make good decisions, I think it’s time I let you handle this one on your own.” “Besides…I trust you.” There was another long pause. “Well, ah, thanks Dad.” “Love you…I won’t be late…bye.” Don, looked at the receiver for a moment and smiled to himself. He knew what decision Jason would make. Clicking off he headed back to the DVR…and Letterman.
Our natural tendency is to make decisions for people. Particularly when they are moral decisions and particularly when the “people” in question are our kids. In doing so, however, we are doing the other person a disservice. Rather than being a steward of the process of decision making we rush to a conclusion imposing a final result. Ironically, a decision without process ceases to be a decision at all. By making choices for people we are denying them of their own journey. And a destination, with no journey, is not a destination. We must equip our loved ones for their own journeys rather than replicating the results of our own. We do so by modeling processes…by teaching others how to be stewards of their own journey.
The ends (the destination) do not justify the means (the journey). In point of fact, the means, or journey, is just as important, if not more important than the ends. In other words we need to teach good attitudes rather than hand down platitudes. “A person who has never had a crisis is one who remains forever inhibited, repressed, entrenched in delusion, and constricted by limitations so habitual they have become invisible.” (Michael Casey)
Why is the journey so important? Imagine for a moment you needed to travel to a location somewhere in a large city. If I blindfolded you and took you to that location, then left you there what good would it do? Not only would you not know how to repeat the process, you would have a very difficult time proceeding from that point. The immediate objective would have been accomplished (getting you there), but there would have been no nurturing and no growth. Making decisions for people or telling them what their decisions or beliefs should be is like giving someone only the last page of an instruction manual.
My friend Don gave Jason the whole instruction manual and taught him how to use it. When the crucial moment came Jason knew the process because he had already experienced the journey. Don had walked the path with him many times before, so Jason knew the way. Teach others how to journey and you never need worry about their destinations.
Dear God: Show me the way and I will find where it leads.
“It’s not hard to make decisions when you know what your values are.” ~Roy Disney, co-founder of the Walt Disney Company (1930-2009)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Comparison Shopping
“Joy is not in things, it is in us.” ~Richard Wagner, German dramatic composer and theorist (1813-1883).
My fingers glided carefully over the black, gun metal surface of the flat oblong case. It was pristine, without a single finger print or blemish. I carefully pushed the button latch and lifted the lid. Virgin hinges gave gentle resistance. Inside I was greeted by the anticipated array of shiny black keys. The interior was sterile: no dust, no prints, no nada. I stared inside for another moment or two then deftly snapped the lid shut. Carefully I returned my new Dell laptop to its bubble wrap sheath and then to the box in which it has arrived. “You gotta Dell Dude!” the old slogan rang in my ears.
It had taken me two weeks to finally decide to free the new computer from the box in which it was shipped. After all, once I opened it, the computer wouldn’t be new any more, would it? I still wasn’t quite ready to boot it up, however. That pleasure would be saved for another day. The box, with the lap top safely inside, fit perfectly in the file drawer of my desk. In it went. I closed the drawer with a smile.
This was the final step of months spent trying to find the “best deal” on this particular lap top. I had poured over newspaper ads and checked the advanced notices which came directly to my desk top at work. Twice I had attempted to order this particular model at an “unbelievable rock bottom price” only to find it was out of stock. Finally, I was able to order the next to last one in stock at the lowest price I had found any where. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, I headed downstairs for my favorite Sunday treat...my first cup of fresh, hot coffee.
When I arrived on the back deck, coffee in hand, Teresa was already enjoying her favorite Sunday treat. The Sunday paper was strewn about the patio table, located just outside the exterior door to our family room. Teresa sat contentedly at the glass top table, with her cup of coffee, reading the paper and periodically commiserating with the blue jay family which occupies our oleander tree. I sat down next to her and began absent-mindedly picking through the newspaper ads while sipping at my coffee.
My eye fell on the ad for one of those big box office supply stores. At first I simply glanced at the cover. Moments passed... then something caught my eye. Leaning in, I noticed there was a picture of a laptop on the cover. A laptop which looked just like mine and the cost? …hundreds less! Cursing loud enough to startle Teresa I tore open the ad to assess the financial damage…by how much had I been ripped off. I poured through the description of the machine, which was sparse to say the least. Frustrated I headed upstairs, yanked open the drawer and extricated the owner’s manual from the laptop box…by this time I was fuming. A quick comparison indicated the advertised machine was the same as mine…except the price.
I headed for our desk top to look up the ad online…hoping to find more comparative information. While I was pounding away at the keys, Teresa wandered into the computer room with her second cup of coffee. She watched calmly while I swore at the screen. Finally, I turned away from the desktop to face her. “They’re the same,” I said dejectedly. I over paid. Teresa glanced at the ad. “Doesn’t your lap top have that built in camera thing?” she asked innocently. “Yeh, I guess?” “And didn’t you get a case and some extra memory with it?” she continued. “Umm, yeh.” (I was starting to feel very sheepish all of a sudden). She pointed at the ad. I don’t think you get any of that stuff with this one.” (pause) “Besides, this one only comes in pink.” She handed me the ad and left the room. Suddenly my computer didn’t seem so new any more. In a matter of minutes I had destroyed my joy.
Any true spirituality calls us to a life of joy and fulfillment…to live a happier life. Stewardship is a spirituality…a way of living…a way to a better life. It does not, as some might believe, call us to a life of oppressive requirements or obligations…a giving through guilt program so to speak. Rather stewardship calls us to a life of joy, abundance and freedom.
Unfortunately most of us suffer from a neurosis which tends to destroy or mitigate our happiness. Rather than living a life of gratitude and thankfulness we sabotage our joy through guilt and envy. Guilt is insidious in that we are often so happy we somehow find a way to feel guilty for our happiness. It is the joy itself which becomes the source of our unhappiness.
Envy, which was the case with me and my new lap top, is that nagging perception that someone got more than I did…someone else got a better deal, a better break, a bigger portion or just plain more than I did. This doesn’t just apply to money and possessions, however. We become envious when others get more attention, a friendlier hello, more praise, a better title or even a nicer desk with a better location.
Happiness, however does not, can not, operate on a comparative basis. It can not be based on what I have and how it compares to how much someone else has. Why? Because there will always be someone else who has more! Someone else will always have gotten a better deal. If we base our happiness on a comparison of what we have to what everyone else has then ultimately the only happy person in the world will be the richest one (unless of course that person feels guilty about being happy.) Following a comparative approach to happiness makes us materialistically manic-depressive. Right now I’m joyful because I have a new car. A moment later I’m depressed because someone else got a nicer model or a better deal.
Stewardship calls us to an “attitude of gratitude”. If we are truly grateful for what we have joy follows naturally and can’t be shaken by comparisons. In my situation it wouldn’t have mattered if someone did pay a little less for the same lap top I purchased (and not a pink one either). I would still be experiencing the same joy I am right now as I type this reflection. If we are truly grateful for what we have our joy can not be sabotaged or taken from us. Otherwise we will “spend” our lives trying to keep up with the Jones and “SPEND” is the operative word.
Dear God: Teach me to be grateful for all that I have.
“Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings instead of your own.” ~Harold Coffin, humorist for the Associated Press (1905-1981)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
My fingers glided carefully over the black, gun metal surface of the flat oblong case. It was pristine, without a single finger print or blemish. I carefully pushed the button latch and lifted the lid. Virgin hinges gave gentle resistance. Inside I was greeted by the anticipated array of shiny black keys. The interior was sterile: no dust, no prints, no nada. I stared inside for another moment or two then deftly snapped the lid shut. Carefully I returned my new Dell laptop to its bubble wrap sheath and then to the box in which it has arrived. “You gotta Dell Dude!” the old slogan rang in my ears.
It had taken me two weeks to finally decide to free the new computer from the box in which it was shipped. After all, once I opened it, the computer wouldn’t be new any more, would it? I still wasn’t quite ready to boot it up, however. That pleasure would be saved for another day. The box, with the lap top safely inside, fit perfectly in the file drawer of my desk. In it went. I closed the drawer with a smile.
This was the final step of months spent trying to find the “best deal” on this particular lap top. I had poured over newspaper ads and checked the advanced notices which came directly to my desk top at work. Twice I had attempted to order this particular model at an “unbelievable rock bottom price” only to find it was out of stock. Finally, I was able to order the next to last one in stock at the lowest price I had found any where. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, I headed downstairs for my favorite Sunday treat...my first cup of fresh, hot coffee.
When I arrived on the back deck, coffee in hand, Teresa was already enjoying her favorite Sunday treat. The Sunday paper was strewn about the patio table, located just outside the exterior door to our family room. Teresa sat contentedly at the glass top table, with her cup of coffee, reading the paper and periodically commiserating with the blue jay family which occupies our oleander tree. I sat down next to her and began absent-mindedly picking through the newspaper ads while sipping at my coffee.
My eye fell on the ad for one of those big box office supply stores. At first I simply glanced at the cover. Moments passed... then something caught my eye. Leaning in, I noticed there was a picture of a laptop on the cover. A laptop which looked just like mine and the cost? …hundreds less! Cursing loud enough to startle Teresa I tore open the ad to assess the financial damage…by how much had I been ripped off. I poured through the description of the machine, which was sparse to say the least. Frustrated I headed upstairs, yanked open the drawer and extricated the owner’s manual from the laptop box…by this time I was fuming. A quick comparison indicated the advertised machine was the same as mine…except the price.
I headed for our desk top to look up the ad online…hoping to find more comparative information. While I was pounding away at the keys, Teresa wandered into the computer room with her second cup of coffee. She watched calmly while I swore at the screen. Finally, I turned away from the desktop to face her. “They’re the same,” I said dejectedly. I over paid. Teresa glanced at the ad. “Doesn’t your lap top have that built in camera thing?” she asked innocently. “Yeh, I guess?” “And didn’t you get a case and some extra memory with it?” she continued. “Umm, yeh.” (I was starting to feel very sheepish all of a sudden). She pointed at the ad. I don’t think you get any of that stuff with this one.” (pause) “Besides, this one only comes in pink.” She handed me the ad and left the room. Suddenly my computer didn’t seem so new any more. In a matter of minutes I had destroyed my joy.
Any true spirituality calls us to a life of joy and fulfillment…to live a happier life. Stewardship is a spirituality…a way of living…a way to a better life. It does not, as some might believe, call us to a life of oppressive requirements or obligations…a giving through guilt program so to speak. Rather stewardship calls us to a life of joy, abundance and freedom.
Unfortunately most of us suffer from a neurosis which tends to destroy or mitigate our happiness. Rather than living a life of gratitude and thankfulness we sabotage our joy through guilt and envy. Guilt is insidious in that we are often so happy we somehow find a way to feel guilty for our happiness. It is the joy itself which becomes the source of our unhappiness.
Envy, which was the case with me and my new lap top, is that nagging perception that someone got more than I did…someone else got a better deal, a better break, a bigger portion or just plain more than I did. This doesn’t just apply to money and possessions, however. We become envious when others get more attention, a friendlier hello, more praise, a better title or even a nicer desk with a better location.
Happiness, however does not, can not, operate on a comparative basis. It can not be based on what I have and how it compares to how much someone else has. Why? Because there will always be someone else who has more! Someone else will always have gotten a better deal. If we base our happiness on a comparison of what we have to what everyone else has then ultimately the only happy person in the world will be the richest one (unless of course that person feels guilty about being happy.) Following a comparative approach to happiness makes us materialistically manic-depressive. Right now I’m joyful because I have a new car. A moment later I’m depressed because someone else got a nicer model or a better deal.
Stewardship calls us to an “attitude of gratitude”. If we are truly grateful for what we have joy follows naturally and can’t be shaken by comparisons. In my situation it wouldn’t have mattered if someone did pay a little less for the same lap top I purchased (and not a pink one either). I would still be experiencing the same joy I am right now as I type this reflection. If we are truly grateful for what we have our joy can not be sabotaged or taken from us. Otherwise we will “spend” our lives trying to keep up with the Jones and “SPEND” is the operative word.
Dear God: Teach me to be grateful for all that I have.
“Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings instead of your own.” ~Harold Coffin, humorist for the Associated Press (1905-1981)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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