Warming up to new life

 

"O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you … for your loving-kindness is better than life itself ...” Excerpted from Psalm 63

I’ve had a pretty lethargic winter. It has been a struggle to get excited about much of anything. I have a bunch of half-started projects, works in progress and the like that I just can’t seem to focus on doing or finishing. I did manage to finish the puzzle I wrote about a few months ago, glued it up, and mounted it. It turned out surprisingly nice considering I had no idea what I was doing.

Completed Owl Puzzle

I do enjoy finishing projects. Nothing feels as good as being done and looking back with satisfaction on projects or tasks one might have dreaded or put off, and then when it’s done, wondering what the struggle was all about. Why didn’t I just jump on it and do it?

It is quite possible I enjoy all the belly-aching that attends procrastination. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the “are we there yet” fully purged from my soul, but I’m getting there. Now the delays tend to be more a consequence of old age. Suddenly I find my knees wobbling more than is comfortable when I have to get up.

Kneeling used to come quite naturally to this “man of prayer,” but lately I find genuflecting more of a challenge. Not the kneeling, of course, but getting up. If there isn’t a boulder, tree, railing, or piece of furniture nearby, I routinely find myself asking if whatever I’m trying to do is worth it. The answer is becoming increasingly, no. Weeds have a right to life, and God can hear my prayers better if I deliver them standing. I’m not sure God can hear me over my wheezing, otherwise.

This is quite a sneezy time of year for me. Whenever the tulips and daffodils start to bloom, my lungs want to rest while my nose prefers to run. 

The deer here don’t run; they saunter. They like to eat the tulips out front as they’re bursting forth. I presume they do it for my health (deer being very polite and thoughtful) but my other half prefers to see blooms and blossoms, which seems appropriate as she does live with a blooming idiot.

We tried repelling the deer with sonic devices, but the dogs use them for their potty, cats rub their chins on them, and the deer stand around enjoying what I presume must be tunes from their top-40 sonic playlist. 

This year we changed tactics and have gone with a repellent in a spray bottle that is supposed to be eco-friendly toward the environment, but unfriendly to the hoofed ruminant ungulates of the family Cervidae. The best part of the spray is that it comes with a nozzle that adjusts so one doesn’t have to kneel to apply it. That put the whee! into my wheezer.

With longer days and warmer weather, I’ve found energy returning to body, soul, and spirit. One doesn’t realize just how house-bound and barren one becomes with the loss of sunlight and vitamin-D that accompanies winter. I do enjoy keeping still in winter’s darkness, but find it lasts longer than is healthy. I’ve thought about installing some grow lights around the house for winter time but worry what they may do to my skin or bank account.

Meanwhile, spring has sprung; the clocks have moved forward, and the days are noticeably longer and warmer. The snow geese have passed us by on their way north, while our local feathered friends are busy making nests and babies. The lawn got its first mowing of the season, which I find disturbingly exciting. I haven’t yet broken out into song: “I fought the lawn, and the lawn won,” but it’s early days, as they say.

Sometimes God feels distant, cold, and dark; I find myself yearning for God, like the psalmist. But then Spring comes – for the world and for my soul – and God returns, bringing warmth, new life, and hope. I thank God for the death of lethargy that accompanies the birth of Spring, and hope that you’ll find new life springing forth in your lives as well here in this, our valley. Please don’t eat the tulips, though. Thanks!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Learning to slow down in the fast track

 "God, you hate nothing you have made …” (Book of Common Prayer, a prayer for Ash Wednesday)

I have walked around the neighborhood a few times over the years and have yet to see any signs that we are living in medieval Europe. Most of the houses are standard frame ranches or split-levels; most are clad with wood siding and/or trimmed in brick; most are connected with wires for utility services (above ground), while pipes for water, waste, and gas are buried out of sight and mind.

It really is quite marvelous how everything works together. Stuff comes in and stuff goes out. Much of it is invisible. 

It boggles the mind, so I really try not to think about it too much. I’m ditzy enough at the best of times!

I mentioned medieval Europe at the top of this column because in the midst of modern (or is it postmodern?) America, many of us find ourselves entering into what seems to be a relic of ages past: Lent. Lent is a season of forty days where people in traditions that recognize Lent are called to engage in a variety of disciplines – to toughen up their faith, if you will.

Christians of all stripes are invited to engage more seriously in “self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial …” (Book of Common Prayer, 1979). While these are specifically aimed at Episcopalians in my own faith tradition, I would suggest they are also worthy of consideration by folks in all walks of life. 

We sometimes make fun of folks who choose to give up meat or chocolate for Lent, or make a point of giving extra canned goods to the local food pantries during the season; cleaning out their closets to make donations to local thrift shops and the like. There’s nothing wrong with Spring Cleaning and dieting; nothing to make fun of! 

Seriously. God didn’t put us here to decide what others need to do for a better life. That’s why the focus is on self-examination. You know yourself better than anyone else does. You may or may not even want to change. Who’s to know? There are people who, like Fonzy, can look in the mirror and decide, hey hey hey, what’s to change? Perfect!

But for the rest of us mere mortals, a brief glance in the mirror tells a different story. We avoid the mirror, not to avoid a physical reflection, but because we are convinced we don’t measure up in any way, shape, or form; every effort to change has often been dashed by inattention or the reality of living in a world that thwarts us at every turn.

So what do we do? What can we do?

First, fret not. The angels in the Bible always seem to land with a thwump and cry out, “Fear not!” The point is, God isn’t out to get you, me or anyone else. 

So be still. Open the door to your mind and send the restless spirits out to play; let the peace of your Higher Power come in to sit with you. Don’t even think about talking to God; just let your heartbeats do the speaking, meeting, and becoming one.

Secondly, you may identify something you would like to change. Hand it over to your higher power. Maybe giving up Girl Scout Cookies is what you’re called to do. That’s how the cookie crumbles. But maybe you’ll discover a need to make peace with some person or some event in your life. “Repent” means to change – ideally toward health and healing.

Lent gives us all a chance to pack up the stuff we don’t want or need and hand it off to God. It is a deliberate act of spring cleaning for body, soul, spirit (and home).

It may be food and stuff for the poor. It can also be memories or attitudes that do nothing but weigh us down. Lent gives us a chance to clean the attic of our minds and the basements of our souls – to free us from the clutter of careless lives and all the stuff that gives us grief.

Enjoy your spring cleaning, folks. I feel much better, lighter, and chipper when it’s done. I’m sure you do, too. Blessings to you here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: Tickets are yet another bull by-product

"The comfort of the rich depends on an abundant supply of the poor.” Voltaire

Good grief. I like to think I am sort of tech savvy. I’ve put computers together. I’ve had cell phones since the late 1990s. I switched from writing checks to using debit cards at stores decades ago. I organize travel plans and book rooms at hotels, seats on planes and trains, and tons of stuff one can do online or over the ether. But now?

I find the steps required to do anything are beginning to match the number of functioning gray cells I’ve got left. 

There was a bull riding event scheduled in nearby Everett that my wife and I were interested in attending. I went online to order tickets far enough out that the tickets could be sent by snail mail with plenty of time to spare. Sadly, that’s not how things are done anymore. We had to purchase e-tickets, which meant we had to pay for the event tickets online, as well as a surcharge for each ticket. Well, what’s six bits among friends?

Wait, it costs more than six bits to buy tickets? How much? The cost of several dozen eggs PER TICKET? Well, if the tickets are embossed with gold leaf, I guess that’s OK. I’m not happy about it, but it is what it is. But wait; there’s more!

They don’t ship the tickets. There is no ticket pick-up or ticket-waiting at the box office. The tickets will be available electronically on your cell phone. Oh, OK. But wait; there’s MORE!

Your tickets are not sent in a way that allows you to print them. You have to “accept” your tickets on your cell phone, which sends you to a site in which to create an account (new user name, new password, new app) in which to access your tickets. But wait; there’s MORE!!!

Once you get to your tickets (congratulations for making it this far), you now have to add them to your cell phone’s “wallet” (Good grief, now I have to set that bleeding thing up) where they will be available for the local docent to scan you into the event when you arrive (assuming you have access to both cellular service and your e-wallet and the theoretically attached e-tickets for easy peasy scanning).

I think I just qualified for an electronic decathlon event at the next Olympic games. Good grief. Again, I say, GOOD GRIEF!

Fortunately, it all worked out just fine. We made it to the event, gained entrance, found our seats, and cheered on the plucky riders and their bucking bovine companions. Yee Haw!

When it was over, I had to ask myself if it had been worth it (because I’m not only cheeky, but cheap, too). I must admit the idea of putting out a week’s wages for a minimum wage worker to watch twenty eight-second events over the course of two hours seems a bit much. 

We live in a world that has become highly transactional, and whether  I approve or not is completely immaterial. I don’t really know how to compute the value of an evening’s entertainment, or a meal, or a drive across town or across the country. I took a course in economics back when the earth was still cooling, and recall talk of supply and demand and its effect on prices, but I think a gremlin has snuck in over the fence and added some bull shine to the processes.

Everyone wants a piece of the action, and there is no correlation between the service offered and the price exacted for that transaction. No human being earned bread for their table or shelter for their family from my electronic transaction. Yes, maybe there was an operator standing by somewhere, but I can guarantee they didn’t get much of the six figures collected by the ticket merchants (for their fees). 

The Bible says a laborer is worthy of his hire, but that seems to have been turned on its head, where it is the purchaser who has to do all the labor, and pay for the convenience. I don’t like riding the bucking back of a golden calf; it takes far longer than eight seconds here in this, our valley. That’s a lot of bull, if you ask me.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: A raggedy tale of a raggedy man

 

"Things don't have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What's the function of a galaxy? I don't know if our life has a purpose and I don't see that it matters. What does matter is that we're a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are.” Ursula K. LeGuin

It’s winter. The air is frosty, the ground frozen, and no matter how tight the house is, the air inside feels thin and cool. The thermometer says it is 70, but it doesn’t feel like it. I could turn the heat up, of course, and make the home’s interior toastier, but why on earth would I do that while I’ve got thermal unmentionables, sweaters, and blankets in which to bundle? 

Layering up is the key to conserving energy and staying warm. I suspect my chattering teeth are also burning calories, so that’s a good thing, right?

There used to be a fellow who lived on the streets just to the east of downtown Spokane. He was one of those “invisible people” who always seem to be around. I was a police officer back in the day (1970s!), and if I or my partner wanted to know what was happening around the city center when we had the paddy wagon detail, we would drive out near the railroad tracks just east of Riverside and Division. 

There was a mountain of rags piled up there (about ten feet in diameter and four to six feet high, or more). We’d call out, “Hey Rags!” After a moment or two, the mountain would start to shimmy and shake, and “Rags” would make his way out of his burrow where we could chat and catch up on what was happening. 

He wasn’t a TV-trope informant. He didn’t have details on who was doing what to whom, but he could give us a sense of what was going on or things he had noticed that could help us do our job better. When we finished our chats, we would hand him a token of our appreciation, he would burrow his way back to the center of his mountain, and we would return to our patrolling.

I don’t plan to live in the center of a mountain of rags, but Rags helped me appreciate the value of layering up when it’s cold. There wasn’t much we could do to change his circumstances, but then again, he never indicated that he was dissatisfied with his life or situation. He had no mortgage to fuss about. He was kind and gentle, and never a nuisance. 

I don’t know if God planned on Rags being a police informant or panhandler from the beginning of time. I think Rags simply fulfilled God’s purpose in being the best human being he could be, no matter what the circumstances of life steered him into making the choices he made. 

As silly as it may sound, I found him to be an inspirational character. He was a man of honesty and integrity, and I respected him for it. He lived by his wits and was among the most inoffensive persons I’ve ever known.

I have often counseled people who wondered what God’s plan for them is or was. I don’t think any of us are pieces on the great chessboard of life, with God and Satan moving us about here and there for sport. 

Life for some of us may be a tale of rags to riches; for others it may be a tale of going from riches to rags. Some will get what’s coming to them, while others will skate by never having to face justice for what they’ve done or failed to do.

What God requires of all of us, though, is to know we are part of the whole, part of the fabric of all that is, ever has been, or ever will be. We are rags in whom God finds warmth, light, and love. Rags don’t produce their own heat, but reflect the warmth of life within. 

We are rags, but rags in whom God dwells and warms here in this, our valley. We are God’s raggedy treasures. We reflect the warmth of God’s love. Wow!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: Faithfulness is the Preacher’s Workbook

 

"When nobody around you seems to measure up, it’s time to check your yardstick” Bill Lemley

I do not make it a practice to delve into the matter of politics in this column. I do talk about matters of faith and values; I offer a perspective on life that has a religious bent, but my goal is always to do so with a light touch. There is already too much anger and violence in our homes and communities. My intention is to bring a bit of peace and sanity and, if at all possible, a ray of sunshine to warm the cockles of the readers’ hearts. 

This past week there has been a lot of discussion and debate regarding the style or substance of a sermon delivered by Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde at the National Cathedral. Some of her remarks were directed toward the President, the substance of which was “People are scared … good people … have mercy … be merciful towards them …” Why? “They are God’s people.”

When my wife says, “I’m scared,” it is and always has been my job to ask, “What’s scaring you? Is there anything I can do to help? Is there anything we need to do or stop doing?”

Now, I don’t do that as often or as effectively as I should, but the question remains: is there anything we can do? How shall we respond?

That is a political act. That is a political conversation. It sounds like a family matter because, of course it is. But politics isn’t the down and dirty smoke-filled back room wheeling and dealing that takes place in our capitals or city halls. It is about identifying needs, finding and negotiating solutions.

In the example of my wife, I could be dismissive: There’s nothing to be scared of (which is not very caring or loving), or I could be empathetic: Yeah, that scares me too; I’m with you on that (which is loving, but not very helpful). I could be chauvinistic: I’ll take care of it (which reinforces the helpless female stereotype). I could be arrogant: It’s not my problem; you deal with it (which is hurtful). Or I could be a partner: Yeah, I’m scared too. How do you think we should deal with this?

Bishop Budde’s sermon was kind, thoughtful, respectful, and gracious. She talked about the hard work of building unity; identified three key values that go into that work (the dignity of every human being, the need for genuine honesty and truth, and a sense of humility that recognizes we need each other); and she was forthright in saying (I paraphrase): “Many people are scared, Mr. President. Please consider that in making your policies and decisions. Temper your decisions with mercy.” It was an invitation to partnership, as opposed to partisanship.

Being retired, I don’t preach as often as I once did, but I have always made it my practice not to preach partisan politics from the pulpit. I’ve never told my congregations who to vote for or how to vote on various matters put before the electorate. I study the scriptures and seek to proclaim the good news of God in Christ, because that’s my call as a Christian pastor. 

My work as a columnist is similar, but different. I cannot help but bring what I would consider a Christian perspective to what I have to say, but I know there are other forms of the faith that may well take issue with some of the things I say, do, believe, or practice. The Christian faith, as a whole, is richer for that diversity of approaches and beliefs. 

Should I be more sectarian or partisan in these columns? I don’t think so. Should I be more assertive and fiery like John the Baptist (“You brood of vipers!), or is it enough to strive to be more like Jesus (Come to me you who are weary and overly-burdened in life, and I will give you rest)?

Certainly there are times each of us needs a stern talking to, but I think scared people need to hear words of comfort and sense that they are not alone, but valued, respected, honored, loved, and called to work together for the common good. We need more mercy, more grace, not less.

We can be merciful and graceful. Why? Because God has had mercy on each of us here in this, our valley. That’s the heart of our faith.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY Simplifying the complicated life

 

"... because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you ...” Isaiah 43

Life is complicated. 

I bought my wife a 344 piece puzzle for Christmas. Unlike standard puzzles, it is mostly a circle, with bits and pieces that burst through the edges here and there. Beyond being circular when complete, the pieces themselves are cut into more intricate curves and curls, jagged teeth and curlicues. If that isn’t enough, the picture is a complex mix of shapes and colors with an owl at its heart. And if THAT wasn’t enough, the puzzle bits are quite small, most of which do not interlock with their counterparts and companions. If you try moving any of them across the table, they come apart and need to be put back together when they’ve reached their destination.

When people look at the “344 pieces,” they laugh. “Child’s Play,” they declare, and maybe it is. My ego isn’t so fragile that the thought that it may take us more time to put this together than Yogi Bear would offend me (for we know Yogi is smarter than your average bear). 

The puzzle begins

Still, it is taking time to figure it out, and time is one thing we have in abundance; I have no desire to finish it all in one sitting. My back and my rump can’t handle that sort of commitment anyway.

It is true that standard puzzles go together quickly, but what’s “standard” doesn’t interest me. The delight is in finding solutions, connections, and those occasional “ah ha” moments when the piece you’ve been looking for is found, and fits! The joy, as is often said, is to be experienced in the journey, not in the destination (although it WILL be nice to get it put together eventually).

Puzzles are complicated. So is life. Puzzles used to come in boxes without a picture. One might never know what they were assembling beyond a vague description (scenery, farmhouse, waterfowl, etc.); they wouldn’t know what it would be until it was completed; their enlightenment was deliberately incorporated into the process of the assembly!

It's coming together

Some people want to know what’s happening in advance of what’s happening, but life’s not like that. It unfolds slowly (most of the time) and nothing is revealed until it is revealed. We can make plans, but there is no guarantee our plans will survive their engagement with reality. 

For example, we were having our HVAC system inspected for winter and in the process of seeing that all was well, the inspector noted the hot water tank was rusting out and had developed a small leak. I called around and discovered the cost of a replacement was about quadruple what I’d estimated it should cost to replace. 

The cold water of reality put me into truly hot water financially, but what can you do? When life hands you lemons, you say “Tanks,” and hire a plumber. It takes what it takes, not what I want it to take. 

In the Bible, God says, “Do not fear, for I am with you.” What God says to the community, God says to you and me and everyone else: “Don’t be afraid; if you find yourself in hot water, fear not. My son’s a carpenter, a plumber, and an all-around decent fixer-upper. He knows a thing or two about jigs, jigsaws, and jigsaw puzzles.” I’ll bet he knows a thing or two about hot water tanks, too!

Life is complicated, but God sees the whole picture. God IS the whole picture, and God has a special place for each of us and, in fact, even God feels incomplete until we’ve been pressed right down to where we belong. 

Miraculously, it is right there; don’t you see it? Those curlicues of life we find so confusing help secure us into the living, beating heart of God. There’s no slipping up or sliding out of place in God’s heart, ever! 

And if we slip? Easy peasy – God puts us right back where we belong. So we can enjoy (hot) showers of blessings, for God has figured us out from way back when. So let’s not fret here; let’s enjoy the process of assembly right here in this, our valley. God knows which outie fits each innie of this, our puzzling life.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: A tip o’ the cap to you and yours!

 

"You saved me once, and what is given is always returned. We are in this life to help one another.” Carlo Collodi (The Adventures of Pinocchio)

I own a fair number of hats. I’m not a hat collector, exactly, but over the years I have simply acquired a collection of hats and caps that have made the coat closet a hazard-zone. 

My father always told me to use my head for something other than a hat-rack, and yet I find that has always been one of its most useful features. God gave many people loads of hair, but since he gave me a head so perfect it needs to be exposed to the world, I’ve found it necessary to cover it when I go outside.

Wearing a hat is such a habit that I don’t even go to the mailbox without donning my chapeaux, come rain, shine, blowing snow, or the gloomy gray of cloudy day. 

I’m no fashion maven, but I do tend to ponder which hat to wear on occasions that find me venturing out of doors. During cooler months, I tend to wear my woolen Stetson as it keeps my head toasty warm. In the warmer months I switch off to my other Stetson, which has a mesh lining with some sort of mosquito repellant (it says). Talk about a buzz-kill!

I have found hats with full brims are a nuisance when driving as the back of the hat brushes the head-rests, tipping the caps down over my eyes while I drive. Now, that does keep the sun out of my peepers better than the car’s visors, but it also limits my ability to see the road, traffic, pedestrians, or other stuff of which an attentive driver like me needs to see, so for driving I almost always switch Stetsons out for a baseball cap.

I don’t know why they are called baseball caps, though, as I have a multitude of sports emblems affixed to my hats. My caps cover baseball, football, and hockey major league teams (multiples of each, for what else can friends and family buy for birthdays and Christmas each year for the dude that has everything?), as well as a few college teams. I tend to wear the cap according to the season and who’s playing that day or week.

I also have work-hats. I’ve got one real ratty floppy cap I like to wear when gardening. It has a cord that hangs under the chin that you can cinch up when it gets windy. My beloved partner absolutely hates the hat and is embarrassed for me to be seen in public with it, but not enough to ask me not to work in the yard. 

We compromise, of course, because that’s what lovers do for one another. I just wear it in the back yard where the privacy fence keeps me out of sight of all the neighbors except those directly behind us. Their house is on a higher elevation, but they solved that problem by putting blinds up around their deck so neither of us can see the other when we’re in our backyards.

“Love your neighbor,” says Jesus. I guess privacy fences and blinds has that rule covered, eh?

Finally, because we live in a region that is prone to bouts of cold weather, I also have a variety of knit caps to keep head and ears all toasty warm when the weather gets cold enough to set Frosty the Snowman to shivering. Some of my knitwear has pompoms while others don’t. Some include team logos, while others are a plain and solid sort; the rest have designs knitted into them. 

As I’ve been doing this mental inventory of head-wear, it occurs to me that I do have more caps than heads, so I am truly in need of thinning out my collection. That will be a major goal in 2025. 

As we put 2024 to bed and ring in 2025, I hope that you, too, will all find things to do that will keep you happy and warm in 2025 and beyond. With that, I’ll bid every one of you, with a tip o’ my hat: Have a good day and a Happy New Year wherever you are here in this, our valley!  

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)