TC Larson

Stories and Mischief

An Apology: I was Petty but You Didn’t Know It

7
Dec

Today’s prompt is REFLECT.

*****

I thought you’d be around more often once you moved to the same area, but you arranged things so you’d be gone for months at a time.

You continued on with your own life, your own dreams, and I was left behind.

When you returned I was conflicted: excited to see you but resentful that you’d receive such a reception after choosing to leave in the first place.

I constructed a moat in my mind, a separation between us so I could hold you loosely, not care if you were nearby, not rely on you since I felt you’d become unreliable, despite your ideals or desires. I didn’t understand your need to do it, your need to pursue an independent life of adventure away from the rest of us. You tried to explain it was something you had to do for your own health. I didn’t understand that, probably can’t understand until I’m in the same position and life station.

January

January (Photo credit: Deadly Tedly)

Then when you wanted a voice, wanted a say in the plans we’d make, I resented it, felt you had abdicated that right by being far away.

I’m sorry.

I was petty.

I was small.

I was cowardly, holding my thoughts and feelings inside. I lacked the bravery required to have the hard conversations. Leaving things unsaid was my attempt to allow the sediment to settle back into place, let the murky water clear so I could see the relationship for its beauty instead of the small irritants or unintentional, momentary offenses. In the midst of trying to let things roll off my back, I collected some of them along my spine and they became a residue
that tainted my internal attitude.

I’m sorry.

Those things were petty and unimportant. I was wrong, even if you didn’t know I was being wrong.

Costa Rica

(Photo credit: dotpitch)

*****

Today I’m linking up with Lisa-jo Baker and the crew who join her to do Five Minute Friday. She gives a word prompt and people write for five minutes. No second guessing, no censoring, just writing for the fun of writing. Silence your inner critic and write. It is open to anyone who is interested, but there won’t be any more link-ups until January.

When something is bothering you, do you keep it to yourself or talk it out? How do you handle it when you’ve been wrong? In what relationships do you find it most difficult to admit fault…and why?

November Book Club, Chapter Two

3
Dec

The title of this post is not a typo.

The Book Club I joined with began in November, so I’m sticking with that as a name, even if it doesn’t quite fit anymore. Go with me on this, okay?

****

Have you ever had someone else complete your thought? Or maybe someone said the exact thing you had felt but never could articulate? Maybe someone was able to succinctly sum up a series of ideas you had? It is a bizarre feeling, to have the sense that someone tapped into your brainwaves and put them out into the world. When it happens, all at once I can feel elated, overwhelmed, dejected and as if I’ve found a like-minded friend.

  • Elated because finally someone else said what needed to be said. How wonderful to feel like you’ve been heard.
  • Overwhelmed because sometimes that person is able to take your thought to its logical conclusion or application and the implications require a paradigm shift I might not be ready to implement.
  • Dejected because why couldn’t I communicate that complex thought so eloquently?

This has been a year of reading books by brave, creative people who have put into words the stirrings I’ve felt for many years, a discontent with simple answers and an unwillingness to engage with questions.

Peter Enns‘ Telling God’s Story is becoming one of those books.

Yes, I know that I’m only supposed to be writing about the second chapter (which is long overdue by any standard — I was supposed to be doing this through November and here we are in December!) but that doesn’t mean I haven’t read ahead a bit. Even though my reading took a hit in November, this is the one I’m ready to come back to. Like any good book, I’m finding it hard to put this down.

Chapter Two: What the Bible Actually Is (and Isn’t)

The chapter starts with an seemingly simplistic question: what is the Bible? This is followed by a series of other questions: what do we expect to happen when we read it? What is the Bible there for?

The author goes on to ask us to step back from that question which is most often applied to Bible reading: how does this apply to me?

Instead we are asked to look at the Bible with a different question in our minds:

“What do we have the right to expect from God’s word as a book written in an ancient world?”

Enns asks us to consider how Jesus’ existence as a human does not detract from his being the Son of God. He then goes on to assert that the Bible does exactly what God wanted it to do, even using expressions and ideas of the ancient world. The anchoring of the Bible in ancient times does not take away from the inerrancy of it, nor does it keep it from “doing exactly what God wants it to do.”

The Bible is Not an Owner’s Manual

Bummer, huh?

In some ways it would be so easy if the Bible did spell out every little thing for us. Some people believe it does — seriously, there are a lot of people out there who have been taught that the Bible IS an owner’s manual and that on every single thing that we should do or not do, every attitude, every current issue, examples of applicable/transferable rules, attitudes, and lessons can be found.

I tend to lean this way, even though I know there are limits.

Enns suggests that “we need to learn the kinds of issues the Bible addresses so we can learn to ask the questions of the Bible that the Bible is meant to answer.” He then gives us the disappointing news that “what is not being addressed are specifically modern situations.” He says that when we read the New Testament in particular, we see “a portrait being painted for us of what a life in Christ looks like.”

We’re getting near the end of the chapter at this point and Enns uses a personal example to illustrate his statement that “…I want to introduce you to what I think is the single most important biblical concept for living a Christian life, not only today, but during any era: wisdom.” Because the Bible doesn’t say specifically DON’T EVER GO TO ANY R-RATED MOVIES Enns must use wisdom when parenting his son and when deciding what to say when his son asks if he can watch the movie Saving Private Ryan. His answer must be based on wisdom; wisdom from knowing his son, knowing about the movie, knowing Biblical admonishments and exhortations, and wisdom from learning to trust the Holy Spirit’s voice.

This is the paragraph that stood out to me most from the chapter:

…if we learn to hear what the Spirit is saying through these ancient yet transcendent writings, we will see that the Bible is much more than we bargained for. The Bible is not a book primarily devoted to what we should do. Instead it is devoted to telling us who we are and how our behaviors should reflect that reality.

Rather than just having a religion or a faith-by-rote, isn’t it true that we all wish to have a faith that is an identity? I’d want my family to live out our faith in actions, attitudes and self-worth even if we can’t name all the books of the Bible in order.

Some people get so hampered by wanting to do exactly the letter of the law of what they think the Bible spells out that they forget the spirit of the law, the reason guidelines exist and what they were originally put there to accomplish. The result from this is often a rigid, fear based faith that is spindly and brittle. I believe God has something more for us, something much more robust, verdant and lush, filled with joy and courage. I think that’s where Enns is headed in this book, and I’m excited to see where he takes us.

Do you expect to find every answer to every question you have in the Bible? Do you think it is dangerous to consider the idea that every answer might not be there? What expectations do you have of the Bible?

Learning An Unwanted Life Skill

29
Nov

In the past few days, I have nearly stapled by thumb, sliced off the tip of my finger and vegetable peeled a stipe of skin into the potatoes I was preparing.

I find myself staring at nothing, blink and force myself back to reality.

Do you know how it feels to be lonesome? (Explore)

(Explore) (Photo credit: geezaweezer)

Sometimes it feels like I’m wearing noise-blocking headphones.

Sometimes it feels like I’m half asleep.

Either I’m not hungry at all, food doesn’t taste like anything, or I just want ice cream since it is easy and actually has a flavor I can taste.

Sometimes my stomach feels nauseous or like I’m carrying a rock in there.

These are all unpleasant new experiences, things I’d rather avoid.

_____________________________________________

There are sweet people around me who want to help me feel better, who are sincerely sorry that my dad was just diagnosed with cancer and who wish they could do something, anything to make the situation more tolerable.

I haven’t told many people. I don’t know how to tell them, don’t know how to deal with their sympathy.

Before I can tell others, I feel like I have to be ready to allow them to be sad. The problem with that is that I don’t have any help or support to offer them.

Last week a friend of mine left at home her husband, her seven kids, her job working at least 20 hours a week and drove an hour and a half to meet me. She gave up six hours of her Sunday afternoon to help shoulder the diagnosis my family is trying to absorb. This is a gift I don’t know how to repay.

Maybe that’s part of my learning curve, learning how to accept help rather than being the one to offer it.

I have to learn how to respond when people say, “I’m sorry” about my dad’s cancer.

I have to learn that it’s not up to me to live up to anyone else’s expectation of my reaction. If I’m numb, I’m numb. If I’m teary, I’m teary. If the roles were reversed I suppose I would be prepared for any number of reactions. But in my mind I wonder if people wish I would break down and cry so they could feel like they’d helped get something off my chest, like I trusted them enough to bare that part of myself.

It comes down to the fact that I don’t know how to be the recipient of sympathy.

Who wants to learn how to do that? It’s a skill I don’t desire, like learning how to shoe a horse. I’m not interested in being in a situation that would require me to have that knowledge.

However, situations are not always chosen. More frequently they are thrust upon us.

That’s the other thing. I’m worried that it can come across as me making a big deal out of something small, or milking a situation for personal gain (although I’m not sure what I would gain by my dad being sick). I’d rather not have to admit I can’t help with that thing, or that I’m too unsure of my ability to compartmentalize that I can’t trust myself doing that event because I get choked up at the most inopportune times.

Maybe as time passes and we’re further away from the initial diagnosis this will get better. Maybe it will become the new reality rather than feeling like a bad dream that we’ll wake up from. Things will start being more manageable, they’ll feel like less effort.

Until then, I’m stuck in a class I hate learning something I don’t even want to know.

Do you have any websites or blogs that can offer some perspective or tips on how to learn this life skill? Have you ever dealt with illness and do you have any helpful suggestions for how to get through it?

Being a Junior Birdman…uh, Birdperson

22
Nov

Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center: south hangar pano...

Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center: south hangar panorama, including Air France Concorde, Boeing 307 Stratoliner “Clipper Flying Cloud”, De Havilland-Canada DHC-1A Chipmunk Pennzoil Special, Monocoupe 110 Special among others (Photo credit: Chris Devers)

There are so many little knobs. Textured with ridges, adorned with a simple white circle at the top and much of the white has rubbed off from the many hands that have adjusted it. You can tell which ones are the most used by their lack of white, even if you had no idea what it controlled.

There were special compartments, secret compartments, places you’d never think to look to stow your huge headphones.

And the codes.

Such great codes and terms only known to those who used them.

The cold air.

The check lists.

The tiny window within a window that you got to open and yell a quick, sharp, “Clear!”

That meant the game was afoot, and the prop whirled to life.

We joggled and bopped along the ground where we were never meant to stay, until we felt that ‘whoosh’ in the stomach that could only mean one thing…

Lift off.

And then we’d fly.

****

This is my flimsy little Five Minute Friday contribution. On the surface it’s not deep, not profound, not spiritual, but it is personal.

My Dad loves to fly. When in doubt, any gift for any occasion can always be money for Air Time and he’ll be thrilled. He’s taken me flying my whole life (in small aircraft, prop planes with three or four seats usually), and now he occasionally will fly over my house and the kids and I will rush outside and he tips a wing to show us he sees us. It’s fantastic.

What shared activities did you do with your parent(s) when you were growing up? Do you have a hobby you share with your family now? 

Trees and other Growing Things

15
Nov

Today’s post is my typical attempt to participate in Five Minute Friday, a link up through Lisa-jo Baker. It is open to anyone,.She is a beautiful writer, and she’s creating a group of friends through the connections made on her site. Check it out at http://lisa-jobaker.com or search the hashtag #FiveMinuteFridays on Twitter.  

There were two arborvitae, one on either side of the wide front steps that led to the front porch.

They barely touched the ceiling of the porch when we moved in.

Thuja Moment

Thuja Moment (Photo credit: monteregina)

When we moved away they were framed in the view from the upstairs windows.

The only thing that had grown more were my children.

Some days the minutes go by so slowly you check the clock, convinced it’s been at least a half hour only to discover it’s been two. Two long minutes playing blocks with someone who only wants to knock over your building,

Someone who only wants to undo the work you’ve done, eat one more snack, mess one more diaper.

And when you don’t notice it, when you’re not looking, the trees grow tall and strong. Your children develop friends, hobbies and interests, and calendars are needed to keep track of assignments and schedules.

Is it possible to note the growth of the trees without getting lost in the incremental close up?

It is good to take a wide shot every once in a while and note the way the child’s pants are too short or how far up their heads come when you hug them.

Then get back to cleaning up messes and driving kids here and there. While you’re at it, make more sandwiches, ’cause Lord knows they’re going to eat ’em.

Are you in a slow-growth period or is time zooming by for you? How do you make sure you’re paying attention in the every day so that years don’t go speeding by unrecognized?

(If you have a second and would consider liking my Facebook page, that would be above and beyond lovely. http://www.facebook.com/TCLarsonWrites or just click the Facebook doohickey on the sidebar. )

Decorating the table for Thanksgiving

14
Nov

Thanksgiving is the start of the “holiday season” and is a fun opportunity to embrace fall. It also is the last chance to live it up before winter and all things winter-wonderland start invading every orifice of your existence. Even your morning cornflakes become winterized after Thanksgiving, which is just silly because who wants to eat breakfast cereal that’s either glittery, icy  or striped with green and red? Bleh!

What's that you say? It's almost time for Thanksgiving?

What’s that you say? It’s almost time for Thanksgiving?

As we prepare for Thanksgiving, since the primary activity is eating we naturally began to think about setting the table. My sister and I wanted to set a table that was:

  • welcoming and practical
  • beautiful
  • wouldn’t require us to purchase a whole new set of anything.

We’re big on using what you already have. Many times if you combine things with something different or in new ways, that’s all it takes. It can be helpful to have someone else look at what you have, since you’re used to it and might have a hard time envisioning it being used any other way.

Here’s a colorful first attempt that obviously DOES NOT work at all:

Thanksgiving Table Attempt 1

In this photo, some things to avoid are:

  • Overfilling the table
  • Centerpiece that’s too tall
  • Table cloth that’s too small for the table – commit to a table runner, a full table cloth, or even both but a too small table cloth looks like you threw it on the table at the last minute.
  • Turkey hunting decoy

Other things to avoid:

  • Flowers or candles with a strong (or any) scent
  • Too many colors all at once or just random extra stuff that doesn’t serve a purpose

In the next photo we’re making some progress…

Thanksgiving Table Attempt 2

Because we used a mix of glassware and ceramics, the result is disjointed and haphazard. Even though the flowers are pretty, they don’t really make sense just plopped on the table, and would be better used on a sideboard or hearth.

Things to go for:

  • Fresh flowers, even just a few
  • Low centerpiece so people can see one another across the table
  • Handmade items or items with significance
  • Candles are an inexpensive way to create a warm and welcoming glow
  • Varying heights as long as they’re not too tall.
  • Taller items should be narrow so they don’t obstruct people sight line.
  • Unified color scheme

Here’s our final attempt:

Thanksgiving Table Attempt 3

Again, we tried to use what we had already. We also wanted to leave room for plates of food to rest on the table (who wants to have to get up every time someone wants another roll?). Even though we really wanted to use the flowers, we had to find a home for them somewhere else. By removing those along with some of the extras, the pretty table cloth becomes the focal point. There’s room for people to be able to navigate their plates without knocking over decorations. When the candles are lit and the lights dimmed, the result is warm and festive. Imagine a platter on the table, and the seats filled with family and friends, and you’ve got yourself a beautiful Thanksgiving experience.

We hearby announce the table is ready.

We hearby announce the table is ready.

These are simple ideas we’ve figured out by trial and error. Do you have suggestions people should consider as they prepare to host a holiday event? Any real life lessons of what to avoid?

Teaching my kids the Truth about Heaven

8
Nov

Today’s post is a lazy (or pragmatic) woman’s attempt to kill two birds with one stone. Lisa-jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday has become part of the rhythm around here, and I’ve enjoyed the community involved there. This month I’m also participating in an online book club organized by Abi Bechtel. We’re reading Telling God’s Story by Peter Enns. Therefore, today’s post is based on the word prompt “Truth” and the first thing that came to mind was informed by book club, so I’m hybridizing the two.

Set the timer to five minutes.

Ready.

Set.

GO.

Two nights ago my son asked me about heaven.

He asked if it was really gold.

He said he used to feel scared of it, but now he feels better because he read in a kids booklet that there’s no crying or sickness there. This was a relief.

Then he did it. He asked what happens to the people who don’t have Jesus in their heart when they die. Do they go to heaven?

I want to be truthful, but I want to give him security. How can I do both when I feel like there is such a broad cannon of interpretation within Christendom? How can I tell him the questions in my own heart about the strict interpretation I was trained to accept? How do I tell him what is true?

The words of a former professor, Greg Boyd, popped into my head. I studied with him while at Bethel for more than one class, but his World Religions class was the scene of this truth bomb. I have come back to it again and again.

He said something similar to this, but this is not an exact quote…

Imagine you are a beggar with a loaf of bread. Another beggar comes to you holding a loaf of bread. It is moldy and dry. The beggar is breaking off bits and eating them. You say to him, “That bread may make you sick. It may not. But I can tell you for sure that the bread I have is good. It is life giving and you will not get sick from it.” And you share your bread with the man.

It goes along with the concept of there being a wideness in God’s mercy, which I love.

So what did I tell my son?

I told him that many many people who love the Lord have studied the Bible for years and years. These people have come up with different ideas about what it says. I gave him a couple short examples of what I meant.

I told him it is up to God to decide about who hangs out in heaven with Him, and He wants everyone, but that the simplest, most straightforward, reading exactly what the Bible says, is by asking Jesus into your heart…which he’s already done.

It’s not a fantastic answer.

Bread

Bread (Photo credit: CeresB)

Is it true?

Yes, sort of.

See what I mean?

STOP

*****

Sorry if this was hard to follow today. It was hard to corral my thoughts into a linear, succinct form.

May I ask how you interpret some of the hard, fast rules of entrance into the pearly gates? If you are a person of faith, how has your understanding changed from when you were a child? How do you handle the Big Questions of faith with your kids?  

Brace for Impact — November’s Almost Here

30
Oct

Books

Books (Photo credit: henry…)

November is National Novel Writing Month (abbreviated NaNoWriMo and then whittled down further to NaNo), and I’m going to be writing like a fiend.

You should plan to be my mental support group as I try to hit my word count every day. Don’t worry, it won’t require too much – just blankets, snacks, beverages, and encouragement not to go back and delete everything I’ve written so far. If you want to come over and do my dishes and feed my family that would be helpful.

I’m planning to be bold and share the Work In Progress (WIP) as I slog through November. I hope to make it pretty regular, but if you see a decrease in the number of posts from me, you’ll know why. You can picture me at my kitchen table, hair pulled up into a messy (read: not cute) ponytail/bun, dirty coffee cup within easy reach, a slightly frenzied look in my eye.

Because I’m not all that creative and not trying to write sci-fi or something that requires me to create whole new worlds , I use bits and pieces from life around me. Usually that means something real is the seed that becomes a new plant in the story. It could be a scene captured in my mind long ago, a conversation that was meaningful, a situation that never got resolved, even the smell of a lake during autumn, but these things rarely stay in their purest form while I’m writing. The grain of truth is there underneath but (at least this is how it’s worked so far) it gets trained on the trellis and becomes a new version of itself.

I’m telling you all this so that if you have deja vu while you read parts of the WIP you won’t feel threatened. I’m not here to air anybody’s secrets or write some kind of tell-all. I wouldn’t have much to tell, and I mean that in all the best ways. My experiences have been pleasantly devoid of scandal so you’ll know I’m making stuff up if things get juicy.

My new story for this year’s NaNoWriMo

The idea I want to focus on for NaNo focuses on camp. Did you ever go to camp as a kid, work there as a college student? I did both, and camp was a central player in my life for many years. Even now, I remain loosely tied to camp and value the camp experience for most everybody.

There are many people who outline and plot their WIP far in advance, and others who just wing it. I’ve only done NaNo one time (last year) and that time I had a rough plan for a story, most of which I kept in my head. Because you’re trying to write 50,000 words in one month and based on my experience last year, I think it is helpful to have a rough sketch of major plot points, kind of as a road map of where you want the story to go. Of course, you must be prepared to ditch the plan and go with what is happening (sometimes those characters are wily critters!).

That’s about all I can tell you right now, since I’m still percolating on many details. Some of them I won’t figure out until I’m already knee-deep in the story.

Wish me luck, and I hope to check in (in a more limited form) throughout November!

I’d welcome any vivid memories from those times at camp, positive or negative. I’m looking for inspiration, so even little details can be helpful. Do you have any stories you’d care to share?   

Sunday School and November Book Club

29
Oct

High Bank, Denby. Derelict Methodist Sunday Sc...

High Bank, Denby. Derelict Methodist Sunday School Building. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most of my life has been punctuated by Sunday School.

There were the many years when I participated in it.

There were the years when I was the teacher.

Now there are these years when my children go each week.

And it never really occurred to me to ask “why” about Sunday School until recently.

My dad, a retired ordained minister in the Covenant church, made the comment recently that Sunday School is a modern creation born of a desire to provide a place for children to learn to read since they were working every other day of the week. (Here’s a link to get the short version of Sunday School’s development: http://bit.ly/17uv3sB)

As someone who has grown up in the church, worked in various youth programs, and been responsible to create curriculum for those programs, I know that the regular idea is to make lessons that show God’s acitivity in the world, and use the scriptures to teach character lessons.

I wonder if I was coming at it all wrong.

In my conversation with my dad, it came up that you really don’t want to use a lot of “Bible Heroes” as such because they were a mess. Lessons ought to focus on how many mistakes these people made and yet God was able to accomplish great things through them, because He is great.

Instead, we usually focus (for example) on how David was “a man after God’s own heart” and gloss over his adultery and scheming, including arranging to have his competition sent to the front lines in order to get him killed.

Dude was sketchy at best.

Here’s another example. At our church a few months ago they wanted to teach about friendship so for some reason they chose the story of Job. If you’re familiar with the story, Job goes through some really hard trials. His friends hang with him for a while, but then they basically tell him to throw in the towel.

The lesson taught only focused on the first part of the story, and happily the teacher chose not to include the detail that God allowed Satan access to Job. My first and third graders were not ready to deal with that information. It was a poorly planned lesson that pick and chose details for their illustration of the point the creators were going for, regardless of whether that was the point of the actual Bible story.

All of this is to say that there might be a better way to go about teaching our kids about the Bible.

In the month of November I’m going to participate in an online book club. The book we’re going to read is Peter Enn’s Telling God’s Story (http://bit.ly/1coKmHn). I haven’t read any his books before, but it sounds like this book has a different take on teaching the Bible to kids.

The premise of Telling God’s Story is that for 1-4th graders the focus should be on learning all about Jesus, then 5-8th graders focus on the overall narrative of Israel, and high schoolers focus on the Bible’s historical context. I’m really interested in exploring a new approach to valuing the Bible and teaching it in a way that honors it.

I’ll be blogging about book club, and the fabulous woman hosting it is Abi. She’s a riot and is on a really interesting journey that I resonate with in many ways. If you’re interested in reading along with us via her blog, you can find it here: http://bit.ly/1aQVwOB It would be fun to do this together!

What are your memories of Sunday School? Was there a point when you started having friends there, rather than just merely sitting next to other kids? What’s your view of Sunday School now?

Sunday School, Chicago, IL, USA

Sunday School, Chicago, IL, USA (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ode to a Stupid Chicken

24
Oct

Ferdinand with a treat she found.

Ferdinand with a treat she found.

Our white chicken disappeared.

We closed the coop later in the evening when it was already dark and we assumed they were all inside. (They naturally go into the coop as night approaches.) I opened the coop the next morning and went about my day.

The chickens stick together most of the time but when one needs to lay an egg, she goes back to the coop by herself for a bit then rejoins the “flock” when she’s done.

All of that to say, I didn’t notice that she was gone until many hours had passed.

Our chickens are not our pets. They do not have names. We like them but we do not love them. They are not part of the family.

But…

The white chicken was a cheeky hen who had too much personality to NOT earn a name,

So my husband and I called her Ferdinand (yes I know it’s a male name) after the mischievous duck from the movie Babe. It fit her.

In honor of Ferdinand, I offer this short poem.

Where’d You Go?

Your tail feathers cut a line through the air, stiff and sharp.

Ferdinand, where’d you go?

Rather than peck at your food or mill around with the ladies,

you snuck out through the nesting box,

anxious to begin your day.

Bright eyes, inquisitive with unspoken questions,

you cock your head,

bemused to find we won’t let you in the front door

even though you wait patiently.

You run toward me, skirts swept up, feathery petticoats charging up the hill,

your gaggle close behind

for the promise of

bread scraps, leftover oatmeal, limp lettuce.

Stark contrast of white against jaunty red comb,

You stand out amongst your more camouflaged friends

like a white-blond in a room of brunettes.

I like to think you took yourself on a road trip,

got cabin fever and went to visit some ducks across the pond.

Maybe you’ll show up at our door like no time passed,

tiny suitcase next to you and a grin on your beak.