Problem Solved

Though the Lord be high, God cares for the lowly; God keeps his distance from the haughty.  – Psalm 138

I was going through some old papers the other day and ran across this gem: Identify a problem you have and work through (the following) steps to solve them. Make sure the problem is YOURS to solve. Don’t solve someone else’s problem.

I like solving problems. That’s good, because I’m also an expert at creating them (problems, not solutions). Try as I might to communicate clearly, succinctly, and accurately, someone invariably goofs up down the line. Sometimes that someone is me. Sometimes it is the other person. Either way, when the problem arises, I do try to find out what happened and fix it. What doesn’t work (I’ve learned) is to get angry or fix blame.

On my Dad’s kitchen window is a placard that’s sat there for years. The bit of wisdom it contains is: It is better to love than to be right.

Now, my ego would prefer to be right, and the fact is I’ve never had an argument where I didn’t think I was right or in the right from the start. It would be silly to start an argument knowing or believing one is mistaken, in error, or outright wrong.

Now, I know people who would argue the sky is green for the sake of argument. They love the adrenaline rush that comes from being in a fight. But that person’s not me.

I’ve also learned over the years that if one puts themselves in the shoes of the other person (which, admittedly, makes for a crowded pair of shoes) and looks at the matter from their perspective, they too may have a point. So why fight? Why not listen carefully, weigh the facts as best one can, and look for a solution that works for everyone?

I remember learning about a thing called “The Common Good” when I was growing up. The idea they talked about was remembering we are not alone in this world. It required acknowledging there are other people – whether in this family, community, or world – and that they have as much right to be here as we do.

As a child growing up in a tiny home housing six people with one bathroom, each of whom had to rise and shine and get off to work or school, cooperating was critical. We had sufficient food for our meals, and we served ourselves, but we each took care to moderate our portions so that everyone would have what they needed for their own plates.

We also had one television, but reception was so poor (and with the constant rolling of a picture we could not stabilize) there wasn’t much fighting over programming. With three channels, we always had a 33% chance of watching the show we wanted to anyway.

No, when one looks at life from the shoes or sandals of their neighbor, it is amazing how many issues can be avoided. That doesn’t mean we need to become doormats, of course.

It seems people are more aggressive and obnoxious of late. I think a good portion of that is due to our continued and continuing isolation. Everyone has their own television; each of us has nose buried in our computer, tablet, or cellphone. People utilize social media as a megaphone for their pet projects or from which to projectile vomit their displeasure at others. Wasn’t it nice when the worse we saw on social media was the oatmeal someone had at Denney’s with a loved one?

We often talk about all our connections, and yet it seems that our connections have divided us. Not only that, but we can block one another with ease. Say something I don’t like? Block! Problem solved … or is it?

No, the problem isn’t solved. It’s only been made worse, because blocking another person denies them their place in your life. A lawyer asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” His question was a coin with another side: “Who is NOT my neighbor?”

Jesus’ answer, in sum was: Your neighbor is the one you’d rather be dead than to have them touch you.” Ouch!

So, I am going to continue to find solutions rather than fix blame. I’ll try to love rather than to be right: Problem solved for another week in this, our valley.

Weeds, Bees, and the Local Buzz

It doesn’t matter who hurt you, or broke you down. What matters is who made you smile again - Anonymous

The other day I went out to hack away some of the overgrown weeds around my father’s house. He’s not able to tend to them anymore, so I do what I can to control the tangle of greenery. They look like they’re victims of some botanical form of highway robbery, reaching for the sky as if they’re going to be shot.

I know I can be a vegicidal maniac, but I don’t shoot the shoots. Rather, I chase after them a bit like Freddy Kruger or Michael Myers of horror movie fame, slashing at them with garden shears, rusty hoes, or chattering hedge trimmers. If that doesn’t make your sap run cold, you ain’t got no sap! Speaking of saps …

Summers in the Pacific Northwest are absolutely amazing. Things grow so fast out here. A yard can be wonderfully landscaped, each plant shaped and sized to fit its tract ever so perfectly, but within a year, it becomes a jungle. Invading Triffids would stand no chance against the local flora. Even as careful as I am, as well-equipped and well dressed as I am for my assault on the overgrown brambles of life, they do not go quietly into the bin for garden clippings. They have their own plan of attack, snagging anything and everything they can find.

It’s no wonder I’m not overly fond of yard work. I am sure I leave a pint of blood for every ounce of sap they leave behind. I like to think of myself as a man of peace, but the shrubs have made a bushwacker of me, instead. I should “leaf” them alone.

That’s easier said than done, of course. I was out spraying dandelions the other day (a real pain in the grass, if you ask me) and a neighbor noted in passing, “You know, if dandelions were hard to grow, we’d treasure them the same as we do our roses or orchids. They’re actually kind of pretty.”

When you think about it, it’s true. When I peek at a dandelion, I see a weed, but it’s not all that unpleasant to look at. A weed, as we are told, is just a flower that grows where you don’t want it. Every spring I head out and admire the fields of daffodils and tulips in the Skagit Valley, and yet whenever I see a lawn that’s more dandelion than grass, I’m offended. Why is that?

Who made me a judge over the world’s botanical delights – to decide what is worthy and what isn’t? At the end of the plant planting day, did God say, “It is good” or “Ew, ick, dandelions!”?

God found everything in creation to be delightful. Do honeybees avoid dandelions? Of course not!

I have only been stung three times in my life by honeybees and, ironically, all three occurred on the same day, and each bee was on a dandelion I had carelessly trampled while barefooted. I was about twelve years of age at the time, and I learned two things. One, watch where I step, and two, wear shoes … period.

Bees don’t seem to care whether the flower they milk for nectar is a weed or something else. What they care about is that it has what they need for the health and well-being of the hive. A flower is their gold; they need not dig for it, nor do they need to melt it down or refine it. They do not destroy the flower, kill it, or crush it. They simply flit from plant to plant, benefiting the entire field by transferring pollen from one plant to the next.

I’ve gotten to that stage in life where I’m less interested in pulling weeds, and more interested in sitting in the back yard, sipping a spot of tea (with a touch of honey) and appreciating how plants are contributing more to the health of our planet than I am with my hacking and wheezing.

The fact is there is little reason to do as much “yard work” as is often done for in the end, nature wins. Nature always wins. I want to learn to relax and enjoy creation more; that’s the buzz here in this, our valley.