Would You Rather be Thor, or Happy?

In order that people may be happy in their work, these three things are needed: They must be fit for it. They must not do too much of it. And they must have a sense of success in it. John Ruskin, Philosopher

My first visit to Montana took place sometime in the 1960s. I was a young teen and our family made the trip from Seattle up to someplace near Whitefish to visit with friends. We had a delightful time wandering through the woods and go-carting around their property. 

The weather was hot and dusty, so we washed down a lot of that dust with cold, refreshing lemonade (and totally ignored the grime with which our bodies had become caked). We knew we’d get a bath or shower sometime down the road, but that wasn’t anything for teenage boys and/or girls to worry over whilst out and about on vacation.

When night fell, we kids decided to sleep outside under the Big Sky. We had no desire to spend those delightful hours of darkness indoors listening to the adults yammer on and on about things that certainly don’t interest teens.

We explored the stars, finding and identifying the Big Dipper, Orion’s belt, the North Star, and other astronomical phenomena. I’m sure we saw a few shooting stars, too, before the forces of gravity and fatigue pulled our eyelids into the closed and locked condition more commonly known as sleep. I do recall seeing some lightning off in the distance, over the mountains. Michael, leader of we night-time porch-tenders, told us it was heat lightning, so we gave it no further thought.

At least we gave it no further notice until the stars disappeared, having been (apparently) replaced by storm clouds. We were awakened by a symphonic explosion of thunder and lightning direct from Thor himself, and a downpour against which Noah’s little adventure surely paled in comparison! In the nano-second or two it took us to jump up (still cocooned in our sleeping bags) and scramble into the house (if hopping madly in the aforementioned sleep-sacks counts as “scrambling”), we were so drenched the Loch Ness Monster would have seemed as dry as a Gila Monster in comparison!

Memories.

As we approach the holiday season, it occurs to me that we adults tend to focus on everything we need to “do.” There are gifts to purchase and/or ship; there are meals to plan and buy for. Our helpful news media remind us how much more these things will “cost” compared to a year, decade, or century ago. Mental health advocates will provide us with checklists of things to do or avoid to keep the holidays as stress free as possible (as if having one more checklist to go over will reduce that stress). And, of course, there is all the travel that needs doing, and all the complications the travel industry, staffing, and weather will impose upon those who really want to get from point A to B, and back again in a timely manner.

It’s funny, and I’d never really thought of it this way before, but as kids, we had “staff” to take care of all those details. They were our parents and guardians. Maybe we were relegated to the back seats of the car, but so is the President. So is the Pope! Our parents managed our calendars, our meals, our transportation, packing, etc. We simply got to enjoy the ride. And our jobs, when you got right down to it, was to keep busy and stay out of trouble. Our parents patched our wounds, kissed our boo-boos, and always sent us back out to chase butterflies, get dirty, and keep on keeping on.

I think the key to a happier holiday season is to simply take a step back and accept what it is we’re “fit for,” not do too much of it, and have a sense of accomplishment when it’s done. Forget trying to have (or make) a “perfect” holiday season. “Perfect is the enemy of good” (so be good for goodness sake). 

Let God be God. Do what you can, don’t do too much, and appreciate what you’ve done here in this, our valley. Do that, and you’ll not become a Thor loser, even if it storms on your holiday.

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)

Don’t Let the Jingle Jangle Your Nerves

Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together. Thomas Carlyle

OK, the Great Pumpkin is behind us, turkeys are flying from the grocer’s freezers, and the number of Black Friday events has multiplied to a point that seems, well, pointless. The other day we recovered the hour we had lost last Spring (as if time has ever stopped, backed up, or sprung forward). The sun has pulled a blanket of clouds over its face (having gone South for the winter along with the migratory birds), and peeks out from beneath the covers every now and then just to see if we’re still here.

We humans don’t take the hint, of course. Where nature tells us it is time to settle down, rest, and recuperate from the frenetic pace we set in Spring, Summer, and Autumn, we don’t. Like a child hyped up on too much sugar and candy, many yell back at Mother Nature, “You’re not the boss of me!” and set about to make as big a mess and as much noise as they want to.

Yes, I know everyone complains about Christmas displays up and running before the Back to School specials at the end of summer. I know we complain about the confluence of various holidays between Labor Day and New Year. We complain, but what can we actually do about any of it? 

Nothing – and that’s OK. 

We can complain about it, if we wish. We can move someplace where such matters don’t exist (like Guam, Wake Island, or Mars), if we wish. We can let it bother us, if we wish. We can bury our heads in the sand and ignore the chaos, if we wish. 

Or we can put on our big girl or big boy pants and accept that we live in a weird world, and just because chaos is for sale, we don’t need to buy it; just because chaos is visible, we don’t need to stare at it; just because chaos is bursting out all around us, there is no attending shock-wave with which we need to actually deal.

I will confess that I hum or whistle holiday music year-round. I do it spontaneously when the mood strikes. I do it quietly and to myself. It may not always be the “right time of year” in which to do it, but so what? If it brings me joy, it brings me joy. Shall I let some fuddy-duddy bring me down with a sneer or scowl? Heck no! On the contrary, that would be more likely to increase the mirth of my soul (I never said I was a nice person).

No, I really try not to let the wackiness of the world we live in get me down. I have enough of those periods without any outside help. What I do find helpful is noting what my environment is doing to me and asking what I need to do (if anything) in response – for my own health and peace of mind. 

If hype, noise, and chaos is causing my blood pressure to rise and my nerves to fray, I seek out a quiet place at home, or car, or the sanctuary of my church. Churches are marvelously quiet places between Sundays. It’s too bad so many of them need to be locked up for security or protection from thieves and vandals. But they can be wonderful places to go when one needs relief from the assaults of a jingly, jangly world. We can also set up small sacred spaces in our homes if church space isn’t available.

As for the season of Happy Hallo-Thanks-mas, it is what it is. It is only a bother if I decide I need to do something about it. Fortunately, I don’t. Controlling the world is above my pay-grade (and a task for which I am marvelously unsuited). 

No, my job isn’t so much to change the world, but to ask God to change me and pray that the end result of that undertaking may make the world a better place in the process. Until then, I’ll just make space for the sound of silence 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)