If life were a novel...I'd skip ahead to the good parts.

I'm a chronic last-page reader. An admission I'm pretty sure would exclude me from most respectable readers' circles. Usually my main concern is if the guy gets the girl. And usually I just need to go to bed instead of reading... So, I cheat.

I wish life were like a novel, so I could skim ahead to find out what happens next.

I cringe at the process of life.

This winter I read a great novel by Paulo Coelho, "The Witch of Portebello." There's one scene in the story that stood out to me. In it the main character, Athena, travels to India to learn the art of calligraphy. Once Athena masters the curves and strokes, her teacher leaves her with this conversation:

If all the words were joined together, they wouldn't make sense, or, at the very least, they'd be extremely hard to decipher. The spaces are crucial."

She nodded.

"And although you have mastered the words, you haven't yet mastered the blank spaces. When you're concentrating, your hand is perfect, but when it jumps from one word to the next, it gets lost."

"How do you know that?"

"Am I right?"

"Absolutely. Before I focus on the next word, for a fraction of a second I lose myself. Things I don't want to think about take over."

"And you know exactly what those things are."

Athena knew, but she said nothing until we went back to the tent and she could cradle her sleeping son in her arms. Her eyes were full of tears, although she was trying hard to control herself...

I've heard it said Americans struggle with mental illness more than people of any other culture, because of our fast pace.

I wonder if we're hiding from the spaces..

..if we're avoiding life's process.

...if we're skipping ahead to the parts of life with action.

Coehlo makes a sharp observation of humanity that when we do slow down, our minds go to things that we most likely need to resolve. We become most healthy when we muster the courage to rest amidst the pain and look for healing.

The author of Hebrews also talks about this when they invite us to practice Sabbath:

"Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience. For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account (4:11-13)."

Little Moments:2

My sister, Jen, is eight months pregnant. And, the little guy is a mover. Other moms have let me feel their babies 'kick.' But the following awkward scenario usually plays out:

Mom: (Gasps and smiles really big.) Did you feel it?!
Me: (Feeling nothing...but not having the heart to disappoint.) I think so?
Mom: Here. (Readjusts my hand. Gasps/smiles again after a long pause.) There.
Me: (Still nothing. Maybe a hand cramp?) Ohhhh... That's so cool!

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised by how much love I already have for this bulge in my sister's stomach. I know I have felt this little guy move. I haven't seen his smile or heard him laugh. But I know he exists. And that's enough.

I work with a lot of kids who, I'm pretty sure, think their existence is meaningless. Sometimes little things, like forgotten promises, communicate their meaninglessness. Other times their meaningless is more overtly communicated through the words of their friends...teachers...parents.

And it breaks my heart.

Psychologist, Erik Erikson identified eight stages every person goes through in their social development. During a child's elementary age they face a crisis of existence. Am I worth something or a complete mistake?

I hate that people feel like mistakes. Anymore, I feel like a walking billboard for my work at Big Brothers Big Sisters. But without apologies, I really believe in mentoring. I've had front row seats to other attempts at helping people. But what seems most powerful for humanity is connection.

Because presence and connection validate existence.

They validate existence, in a way that is almost spiritual. I mean, God validated our existence through the same means.

It's unfortunate, but I think the word incarnation seems too familiar in the church, like a dusty altar. "Jesus is God incarnate...bla bla bla...next thought."

Incarnation literally means embodied in flesh. And this is what the Creator of all things chose as his secret weapon for redeeming humanity.

...presence.

It's not necessarily about having the right answers. It's not even about being perfect and never hurting others. We know the secret weapon! Humanity craves presence and connection--because with these the importance of our existence is confirmed. And when we know our existence matters, we heal.

Know someone who is hurting? Maybe your presence IS enough.

Embracing Weakness

“Before this, I had come to believe that what makes us human is our mind. But Adam keeps showing me that what makes us human is our heart, the center of our being where God has hidden trust, hope, and love. Whoever sees in Adam merely a burden to society misses the sacred mystery that Adam is fully capable of receiving and giving love. He is fully human—not half human, not nearly human, but fully, completely human because he is all heart. The longer I stay with Adam, the more clearly I see him as a gentle teacher, teaching me what no book or professor ever could.” -Henri Nouwen (Harvard Professor who left a career in academia to live in a L'Arche community.)

Dad says I changed while living in Minnesota. I credit four women who taught me to love reality, even if it seems ugly. All four women had varying disabilities. All four taught me how to live in ability.

One had the ability to make me feel loved. She would laugh with excitement and crane her neck up, "asking" for a hug every time I walked into the front door of her house.

Another had the ability to make me laugh at my mistakes. Her deep chuckle made dropping important medication or a backward sweater seem like pleasant surprises.

One had the ability to make me forget inhibition. My friend and I spent many mornings dancing around in her room, playing the air-guitar, looking like idiots with the slight hope of getting a smile.

And yet another had the ability to make me slow down. She reminded me that time never takes precedence over people.

It has been two years since I've moved back to Nebraska. In this time, two of these women have passed away. But I am forever changed because of my very able teachers.

“We don't know what to do with our own weakness except hide it or pretend it doesn't exist. So how can we welcome fully the weakness of another if we haven't welcomed our own weakness? .... So that, then we go down, what is it that is despicable in ourselves? And there are some elements despicable in ourselves, which we don't want to look at, but
which are part of our natures, that we are mortal.” -Jean Vanier (Founder of L'Arche Communities)

I'm ever embracing weakness, and its beauty is profound. With weakness I am able to forgive and be forgiven. I am able to laugh and rejoice without regret. I am able to dance, free from judgment.

With weakness...

I am able.

Little Moments:1

I love my job. Which is something I think about a lot.

(Insert Shameless Promotional Plug)

Big Brothers Big Sisters from Karen Flanagan on Vimeo.

No Place Like Home

As we tell the story of our lives, setting grounds us in what will be important to the plot.

Harry Potter's destiny unfolds at Hogwarts.

Anne Shirley finds identity at Green Gables.

But place does not define characters only in novels. The concept of home feels important in real life...

...because it is.

Place defines each of us as the pages of our own story turn. Author Phyllis Tickle writes that place communicates deep principles guiding life. Tickle encourages us to particularly pay attention to the place we first remember as home.

I remember standing on a dusty farm lane at the age of 11 thinking, "When I fall in love, I will bring him to this place. (Because this place and I are one)."

Looking in either direction I could see no one. But I could hear the old tractor engine over the hill laboring water out of the Ogallala Aquifer into a long, sweating-cold pipe. The pipe fed the icy river flowing down every-other row of corn, a refreshing contrast to hot, humid, July mornings in Nebraska.

I spent around four hours every day during the summer in this place. Looking across the strings of perfect, smooth corn rows. The grasshoppers jumped from leaf to leaf, a quick gentle counter-'phtt-phtt', against the greater smooth rhythm of the wind. Dad drove a four-wheeler between the well, my mother, my three sisters, and I, motioning when to start and stop opening gates to release the water. Another movement in the great symphony. And we were all one--small parts of a greater experience.

I think about the place of my childhood, and I think about how it formed me. How I learned to recognize my smallness, yet my significance in the greater picture. How I learned to cherish watching something grow into full life.

What are the places of your childhood?