Watching Cars Go By

I haven't blogged in a while. Okay, a long while. Basically, life has been very busy, stressful, eventful, mind-blowingly full, etc. All the superficial excuses that have a hint of truth without letting you all in on too many details.

I just saw a post on Facebook from a friend who just unloaded about the stresses in her life. I can relate to almost everything she said. We all get to a point where the pressures and speed-bumps in life take their toll on our emotional well-being. It's overwhelming sometimes.

That started me thinking. I've always been a people-watcher. I'm the guy driving down the freeway next to you who watches you bee-bopping to your loud radio or arguing with your significant other or straining your back to swing at the kids in the backseat. I'm the guy who counts how many drivers are on the phone or texting during my commute to and from work.  I'm the guy who sits on a park bench, watching people walk by, wondering about their lives, trying to guess what they do for a living, etc.

We each live in our own sort of sphere. It's like our own little world where no one really knows what's happening but us. We control access to our little world. We allow others to see only what we want them to see. Sort of like Facebook. I have a two-year-old daughter. She's the most angelic, beautiful, loving child in the world... er... most of the time. But you will only see the good things about her on Facebook. I choose what to show you, and I know you aren't interested in the periodic tantrums, accidents, discipline, and such. You only want to see the cute stuff. The funny quotes, or the picture of her in her new dress.

We all do that to an extent. We put our best foot forward and show others an idealized version of ourselves. It's good to a point. Everybody doesn't need to know all of our woes and worries. But most of us go overboard in portraying a Norman Rockwell version of our lives, when in reality we might be facing extreme difficulties or anxieties.

It just struck me when I read that Facebook post I mentioned, that every one of us has a story. Every person you see is a complete story.  Think about this for a moment: You are driving to work and you see a perfectly fit young lady jogging down the sidewalk, wearing the latest athletic gear, white iPhone earbuds stuck in her ears, with a perfect stride. Or you see that person in the sixty thousand dollar Mercedes and the perfect hairstyle sitting next to you at a stoplight. You go to lunch at a fast-food restaurant and the frazzled girl behind the counter doesn't do something the way you'd like it done. You go to dinner and the server entertains you and makes your dining experience a very pleasant one. All of those people have their own struggles. Maybe that perfectly fit jogger in the fancy athletic gear just lost a parent to cancer. Maybe she's jogging to clear her mind because she's not sure how to cope with the deep sense of sadness and loss. Or the guy in the Mercedes with the cutting-edge hairstyle has come to a place where his life seems hollow and meaningless. He's realized that he's spent so much time focused on building his business that he's lost touch with anyone who might bring love and fulfillment into his life. Or the girl at the fast-food restaurant whose old beater of a car wouldn't start this morning, and she's not sure how she's going to get home after work because she can't afford to get it fixed. Or the server at the restaurant with the infectious laugh and pleasant demeanor who might have four children, two of whom are sick with a fever, but she can't take time off to be with them because she can't afford to lose any income.

We all get so wrapped up in our own issues and struggles that we cease to be aware that everyone's problems are every bit as real and every bit as important and every bit as all-consuming as ours.

Perhaps if we took a step back and just quietly watched the world around us... just watched the eyes of the people who silently pass through our view... just listened to the deep, almost silent sighs of the people with whom we interact... Maybe, just maybe, we'd be more understanding, forgiving, and gracious.

It's a lofty goal, but it can be done. Take a fresh look in the windows of the cars that pass. Look your server in the eye. Listen to the silence as much as you listen to the words... and be patient with one another. Be kind to one another.

Freezing the Tidal Wave...

If you're at all like me you're really plugged in.  You have a smartphone, a computer, maybe a tablet.  You listen to the news, you read.  There is a virtual tidal wave of information crashing against your cerebellum at any particular moment.  

A few minutes ago I was scrolling down my Facebook news feed, mindlessly scooping up tidbits of intellectual flotsam as I went.  Sheriff Joe's deputies responded to a call of an intruder shot by a homeowner. A high school friend wants to become a cat lady.  A former coworker has a bad rash.  You know, the typical Saturday morning Facebook feed (By the way, you might want to get a cream for that at the pharmacy.).  Then I picked up my phone and glanced at my Twitter account.  The Tweeps are active this morning.  The judge in the Zimmerman trial ruled out voice analysis of a 911 call. Django Unchained used the N word over 100 times and got an award while Paula Deen used it once over twenty years ago and got fired.  I checked my work email to find an update on the inventory process and a rousing encouragement to meet our store goals for the month.  I return a text message from my wife about the bank being closed on Saturday, and that Tuesday we should look into switching banks.

It's a tidal wave.  We live in an age in which we are flooded with a constant stream of facts and soundbites, gossip and memes, images and sounds that are supposed to make us feel more connected to one another than ever before.  However, Americans report being lonelier and more isolated than ever.  Why is that?

It's simple.  It's desensitization.  Just as I mindlessly rolled the wheel of my mouse and perused the treasure of Facebook entries on my news feed, we constantly absorb random bits of information about our surroundings and the people in our lives.  But the stuff that we absorb is just the cast-off, whimsical, non-threatening miscellany that does nothing but continue to deteriorate our attention spans. Squirrel!

Every technology that comes about to purportedly connect us to our world ends up creating more distance between us and the people and events that actually carry some importance in our lives.  We don't take the time to hand-write letters anymore.  Ain't nobody got time for that!  We can't carry on a face to face conversation because we keep getting interrupted by the incessant text messages that continually stir our ever present handsets to life.  We can't read a book, because it's usually done on a screen and there are so many tabs and distractions on the screen as well that we find it impossible to focus.  We think we know what's happening in the lives of those around us because of the pithy comments and status updates we see on our screens, but we fail to realize that behind those memes and pictures are people who are really struggling.

We've become a nation of momma's basement dwelling gamers who have no concept of reality, and it's simply because we're flooding our minds with miscellany and jumbled bits of randomness that our minds simply begin to go numb.  We shut down.  We lose focus.  We glaze over.  Focusing on something important  in our cluttered minds is often like searching a page from a Where's Waldo book.  The trivial crowds out the substantive facts.

We're more stressed than ever.  We're more tired than ever.  We're more distracted than ever.  We're more disconnected than ever.  And we do it to ourselves.  Our "down time" is spent surfing the web, watching television while checking our phones, tweeting and texting, and other forms of distraction.  A person can't even go to a movie theater without being distracted by the many cellphones that randomly light up when sending and receiving text messages.

So, what do we do about it?  We need to freeze the tidal wave.  We need to find solitude.  We need to study silence.  We sometimes simply need to unplug.  Jesus demonstrated this when, though the crowds were demanding His time and his disciples were always around, He "would withdraw to desolate places and pray [Luke 5:15-16]." (See also Mt. 14:23)

Sometimes we just need quiet.  We need to sit in the woods by ourselves.  We need to go for a long walk or a long drive.  We need to shut out the voices and simply listen.  Listen to the silence.  Experience the sounds of the birds in the trees as if it's the first time.  Hear the insects hopping among the blades of grass, the rustling of the leaves, the sound of your own heartbeat. Freeze the tidal wave of life's noise and ponder.  Get away from it all.  It'll completely change your outlook and mood.  It'll help you to refocus and rejuvenate.  

Try it.  You'll be better for it.  Your relationships will benefit.  Your emotions will benefit.  Your connection to God will benefit.

Freeze the tidal wave.

Just a Few Hours To Go...

Thirty year-old Lauren Rousseau was a permanent substitute teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary.  On December 14, 2012 she went to work like any other day.  Anyone who has ever worked with young children knows that the process of corralling youngsters is very similar to the job of herding cats.  This was Lauren's job, and she was hard at it that day.

Thirty-eight year-old Anthony Tempesta was a husband and father who worked as a bond broker for Cantor Fitzgerald in New York.  On September 11, 2001, he was working on the 105th floor of One World Trade Center.  It was his daughter's seventh birthday.  His wife had called him because their front door had been open when she awoke that morning.  He'd stayed on the phone with her while she'd checked the house for intruders.

Army Pfc. Michael Pearson was just twenty-two years old.  He had left a local furniture business job to join the military and have the opportunity to serve his country.  He was known for having a great sense of humor and loved "horsing around with his nieces and nephews."  He was at Fort Hood Army Base in Texas on November 5, 2009.

Lori Ann Lewis-Rivera was a wife and mother who was simply going about her daily activities, vacuuming out her minivan at a Shell station in Kensington, MD on October 3, 2002.  Life doesn't get more normal than that, right?  The mundane tasks of an ordinary day.  However, like those listed above her and like so many more, her time on earth was about to come to an end.

On Monday, two explosions rocked the finish-line area of the Boston Marathon.  Three died and scores were injured. Later, MITPD officer Sean Collier was murdered.  In West, TX, a fertilizer plant exploded killing fourteen and injuring nearly two hundred others.  An 8-month-old girl was killed and her mother badly injured when a driver hit a bus stop in a St. Louis suburb.

The people I've listed here were just like you and me.  They had families, lives, jobs and daily duties.  They had bills, stresses, successes and failures. They were imperfect yet beautiful creatures who were trying to do the best they could in the world.

If you're like me at all, your heart's desire is to give your children a better life than your own.  You work hard, whether in an office, a factory, or in your home.  You end your days tired from your daily activities and you get up in the morning to repeat the cycle.  You have bills that you sometimes have to struggle to pay.  You have stresses from employers, neighbors or family members that cause you to sometimes lose sleep.

Sound familiar?  It's a story as old as time.  We all have such circumstances and stresses.  We have people we love and who love us.  We have certain obligations that we spend a large amount of time trying to meet.  We have joys and we have struggles.  It's just part of being human.

The thing that struck me today, in the wake of this week's violence and mayhem was the suddenness of the events that took their lives.  These people--and the countless just like them--were simply going about their business.  Do you think they awoke on their fateful morning thinking that they had just a few hours to go?

Probably not.  And neither did I this morning when I left for work.  Neither did you when you started your day today.  And yet, today could be that day.  It can come by human hand, by illness, or by happenstance.  Life can be extinguished in an instant. James 4:14 says:  "Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes."

It sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?  Yet, in another verse, scripture says: "So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

So, what's my point?  The Bible tells us how fleeting life is, yet we're not supposed to worry about it.  Interesting, and so counter-intuitive, right?  It's a piece of cake, actually.  

Yes, life is fleeting.  Yes, life can be snuffed out or radically changed in an unexpected instant.  And no, we are not to worry about it.  And... yes, it is possible!  You see, when you've given your life to Christ, committed your very existence and all your plans and ambitions to Him, the "peace of God, which passes all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7)  When the Spirit of God thrives within you, there is no room for fear.  God is love and "perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." (1 John 4:18)

When you've given yourself to Christ, you recognize His sovereignty and His power.  He is then in charge of your well-being.  If He is sovereign in our lives, then we must choose to believe that He has the right to decide what comes our way.  That way we can live in that peace that passes understanding--that peace that, no matter what's going on around us, places its trust in our sovereign God.  That's true peace.  That's peace that doesn't rely on my strengths or weaknesses, but places trust in God, Who has no weaknesses!  

You can have this peace.  All you have to do is stop relying on yourself or others for your assurance.  Turn to God, Who is the Author and Finisher of our faith.

If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to contact me.  My email address is 2010.michaelland@gmail.com.  

Daily Whim 11-04-2012

This is an unusual time in my life.  I'm sitting in my living room with The Pursuit of Happyness playing on the DVD player.  To my left, my mother is sitting in the brown faux-leather chair.  To my right, my wife sits on the love-seat eating a leftover piece of cake from yesterday's baby shower.  Against the wall is a table that holds a pile of gifts brought to the shower by friends and family.  Above our fireplace is a banner that says "Baby Shower" in bright colors and cute shapes.

Krystal's good friend, Mallory, is on her way over to hang out with Krystal for a bit. Tiegen is sitting on the couch next to me, eating a cookie and dropping crumbs on my shoulder.

In the midst of it all, I feel the need to write.

It's an interesting time.  Krystal's doctor has said that Krystal is dilating and her body is prepared to go into labor.  She could, literally, go into labor at any time.

A month ago, the Davis Cellular store I managed was acquired by a larger company called Z Wireless.  It came as a bit of a shock at first, but as time has gone by, I've come to realize that there are many more opportunities for me with Z Wireless.  It's growing rapidly, and opportunities for advancement come far more often.  As much as I loved working for Davis Cellular, I believe God has His hand in this.

So, here I sit:  pregnant wife on one side expecting to go into labor any moment, adjusting to a new work culture, wondering who is going to cover my store when I have to head to the hospital, preparing to vote in one of the most crucial elections in recent history, and desperately... desperately needing a day of solitude.

It isn't that I don't want to be around my family.  Not in the slightest.  It's that I simply need everything to pause for just one day while my brain tries to catch up.  There's a lot of jumbled thoughts bouncing around inside my skull -- thoughts about finances, about patriotism, about family dynamics -- thoughts about health, about the age of our car, about how five-year-old Tiegen is going to handle having a baby invading his life -- about ministry, about dreams, about what the next step is in the journey God has called me into -- about relatives, about lawn mowing, about coffee and how it's helped me survive this last freakishly fast month.  My mind is spinning.

A few months ago, I went to my oldest son's high school graduation.  He's eighteen and ready to launch his Air Force career.  My second son is fourteen and an amazing guy whose options in life are limitless.  I long so deeply to be close to them.  Tiegen, Krystal's five-year-old son, is an outstanding young man whose bright, cheerful personality and impressive intelligence make him a joy to be around.

But it's weird.  I have an eighteen-year-old son and am about to have a newborn daughter.  Wrap your mind around that for a moment.

Yesterday our house was loaded with people who came for the baby shower.  It was energetic and... well... crowded.  Everyone was very nice and gracious.  Everyone was happy and supportive, and there were no problems.  But it was a social environment for which I was not prepared.

This is one of those posts in which I become exceptionally transparent.  You see, I've been in front of people all my life.  I've preached, taught, sung, and acted.  I have no trepidation, whatsoever, about being in front of hundreds or even thousands of people.  I've sung on television.  The largest live audience in front of whom I've sung was around fourteen thousand.  No problem.

But, put me in a room with a bunch of people with whom I have to personally interact, and I break out in a cold sweat.  It's not fear.  It's dread.  There's a difference.  I don't like it.  I do almost anything I can to avoid it.

It really has very little to do with the people in the group.  It's something inside me.

I'm a man of solitude.  I have to have it.  I always have.

When I lived in Alaska and I felt this way, I had a wonderful outlet.  I would take a day off and drive to Eklutna Lake (pictured below).  I would rent a kayak and spend the day paddling around the serene waters and feeling the breeze.  On one side I'd see a moose meandering among the trees and on the other a fox, or sometimes a bear.  An eagle would screech overhead and fish would periodically splash in the water.  I'd paddle for a few hours and pull in to rest along the shore (in the event that there weren't any random wild creatures nearby).

When I was there, I was at peace.  I could go all day and never see another person.  There were no power boats.  There were no electronic devices.  There was no need for interaction.  I could think, sing, pray, hope, and dream.

Since I moved to Missouri at the end of 2005, I have not experienced that.  Not once.  I've tried.  When I was working as the minister of music at Morrisville Assembly, I took a week and went to Table Rock Lake, outside of Branson.  I borrowed a canoe because they don't know what a real kayak is around here.  (A real kayak, not one of those stubby little plastic ones that bob around the rivers and creeks and creates so much drag in the water that you have to work exceptionally hard just to get it to move.  I'm talking about the long, sleek, smooth kayaks that glide nearly effortlessly and gracefully, leaving a long, narrow V-shaped ripple on the quiet water's surface.)  I found a campsite right at the edge of the water.  I got in late in the evening and set up the tent.  Then I cooked some food over the fire and bedded down for the night.

In the morning, I awoke to what sounded like the pit area at a NASCAR race.  When I walked to the water's edge, I saw why.  I was camped across a small lagoon from a major boat dock.  People were working on their boats, revving their engines, using power tools, yelling over the noise of the engines, and otherwise reveling in the freedom to desecrate the silence and create oil slicks.

I shrugged my shoulders and dragged the canoe into the water.  I boarded and began to paddle.  I was on the water about ten minutes and I'd only been sworn at by two power boat drivers as they blew past me.  Both had felt the necessity of circling around, creating a huge swell that nearly capsized me, and stopping to mock my motorless transportation.  Then the clouds rolled in and a Southwest Missouri thunderstorm began.

I paddled back to the shore, turned the canoe upside down and crawled into the tent where I spent the next four days stubbornly refusing to go home despite the weather and the incessant dripping of the water into the inside of the tent.

I've been camping a couple of times since then, but never in solitude.

In solitude is self-analysis.  In solitude is growth.  In solitude is learning.  In solitude is peace.  In solitude is healing.

It's not about being away from the people I love.  It's about being alone with God.  In solitude I can speak out loud to Him.  In solitude I can be transparent.  In solitude I can let my guard down.  In solitude I can be free.