Blowing It

     Lest you think this is going to be an admission of personal failure, let me clarify that it'snot. I recently had a cold. I was blowing and rinsing so much of the aforementioned substance out of my sinuses, I was beginning to think my nose was importing toxic waste from Eastern Bloc nations. This was not a big problem around the house where no one could hear my sinus solos. However, Monday, when I went to BSF leader's meeting, my nose plugged up and I was reluctant blow it in front of all those tasteful, Christian ladies because I knew I sounded like I was trying to snort a small aquatic mammal out of my nose.  Instead I just mouth breathed for the second hour, then went out to the car and filled three napkins. The same thing happened at BSF Tuesday except I only had to mouth breath for 45 minutes. Good thing Dairy Queen gives so many extra napkins. Happily, the great phlegm flood has fled. I know that I often look like I have it all together, now I know what substance is holding it all together. Of course, a classy woman wouldn't mentions mucus matters, guess I'm blowing it.

The Transporter

     I admit to being a Star Trek fan, not enough to wear a costume and/or go to a convention, but enough to recognize most of the references. The original "Star Trek" premiered when I was an impressionable youth and "The Next Generation", when my kids were impressionable youths. As a matter of fact, the only time the television was allowed on during dinner at our house, was Saturday night for "The Next Generation". Segue to last weekend's refrigerator shopping. In the new refrigerators, instead of a dorky light bulb, there is a circular panel of lights resembling the transporter pads of the Enterprise. I almost succumbed to a too small refrigerator just for the transporter effect. For the non-Trekkies, a transporter separated the molecules of whatever was placed on it and beamed them vast distances through space where they would reassemble into their original form (most of the time--depending on the episode). Wouldn't it be wonderful to transport food from the refrigerator to the table and back--not to mention socks, the hamster and anything else that would fit on the mini transporter pad? Unfortunately, there is no magical means for moving things from one place to another--yet!
     Segue again to my previous blog on "Christians, the Next Generation". Expecting young Christians to reach the same spiritual conclusions we have, without our experiences is like trying to put them on a spiritual transporter pad. For example, on the days when my husband went out for lunch, he would come home from work and tell me there was no need for me to fix dinner. This was poor consolation to the kids and I since we did not get full when he went out to lunch, no matter how well he described it to us. There is no magical way to move Christians to spiritual maturity. God has used the same transporter for many years, it is called life. Although we generously, (and fruitlessly) offer our descendants the benefit of our experiences, there is no substitute for the step-by-step, day by day plodding of life. For now the transporter beam is limited to a dream in my Trekkie head, and a gleam in my someday refrigerator.

Christians, the Next Generation

     In one sense, there is no such thing as a second generation Christian because God's kingdom is entered through a turnstile, one at a time. No one can buy a ticket on our behalf. Yet there are families in which Christianity seems to dominate like a genetic trait. Not mine, however. Although there are many believers salted through my extended family, I consider myself a first generation Christian because knowing Christ was not taught in my home. I learned about Jesus at a teen Bible study. At the age where many second generation Christians turn away from Christ, I was on my spiritual honeymoon.
     I think we do a disservice to second plus generation Christian young people when we expect them to understand and react to spiritual things the same as we first generations do. A plane crash survivor will react differently to flying than one who has simply been told stories about a plane crash. Second hand knowledge does not have the same impact as first hand experience. At some point in my parenting I realized that I expected a level of spiritual perception in my children that I had reached only because of my life experiences. My children would have different experiences and their own spiritual journeys.
     There are many advantages to having a Christian heritage, Christian homes have less divorce, abuse, addiction, poverty and sexual sin. I wandered before Christ found me and so will my descendants. But at the end of their wandering they will discover Jesus is as forgiving and faithful to them as He has been to the generations before. Second hand spiritual robes, no matter how beautiful, are still hand-me-downs. The next generation needs Designer clothes.

Let Me Count the Ways

     For someone who recently blogged about not being easily offended, it is hard to explain why the recent library name change from Flathead County Library to "Imagine If" is so offensive to me. It is hardly a personal slight. I did not expect to input on the name change, but then I didn't know there was going to be a name change. From the response in the paper, few did. The first reason the change bothers me is that it seems like buzz words. Remember a few years ago when every business wanted to be proactive? Buzz words are the parachute pants of business. In the years I have worked in home health care, I have taken care of patients, then clients, and now consumers. I refuse to refer to those I care for as consumers. What does that make me, food? I hope the next term for "caregivees" is less ridiculous. The second reason I hate it, is the feeling some "enlightened" person decided the term library was too negative or rigid to be politically correct. I am not a fan of politically correct.
    A third reason I hate the name change is because "Imagine If" does not identify what, or even where, the business is. If I sent you out to buy some "Imagine If", where would you go? A "medical marijuana" shop? The condom department of a pharmacy? Adult fantasy store? I picked the least obnoxious of the new library cards, at least the word libraries is added (in small print). However, "Imagine If libraries" still sounds like a porn shop. The added phrases--No judgments. No funny looks. No questions asked., just make matters worse.
    The fourth reason I hate the name change is the change in philosophy. Imagine If  has no fines, therefore no incentive to return books in a timely manner--or at all. There is no need to be quiet because that would inhibit the video games, crafts and dancing. Imagine If  wants to be a combo community center, Home Depot and Barnes & Noble. They could have created a  more relaxed ambiance without the Montessori mayhem by just adding a coffee bar. Instead of the taxpayers covering the expense for a four library name change, the coffee coffers could cough up a little money. If they wanted to show that the library is more than books, they could have put that slogan on posters.
      I've heard Californians talk about "reinventing yourself". That idea makes me nervous. Actually, California makes me nervous. Our library has reinvented itself--into a Flower Child. A free spirit we can count on to live by its own rules, imagination--and our tax money.

Going Postal

     I took a client to the post office last week so she could mail a package. For some reason she had neither taped nor addressed the box, but had the address written on a sheet of paper.  As we stood in line, we noticed two signs declaring that all packages had to be taped and addressed by the customer. We found out that not only were employees not allowed to help tape packages, they had no means to do so.  All tape guns had been confiscated by the district supervisor from North Dakota, who had recently inspected our post offices and reprimanded the employees for being "too nice" to customers. Though the postal employees have no tape, there are dozens of rolls available for purchase at twice what they cost in other stores. The woman who waited on us had actually been written up for using the S word, claiming being too nice was customer Service.  Neither rain, nor snow nor gloom of night. . .too bad it doesn't mention tape.
     It would never occur to me to take a partially wrapped, unaddressed package to the post office, but I work in home health care and there are many clients who need extra help wrapping their packages (in every sense). This help will no longer be coming from postal employees. We live in an age when "going postal" is synonymous with job frustration and shooting up your workplace, yet some supervisor is afraid of the postal employees getting the reputation of being too nice.
     In the last few decades e-mail has replaced snail mail, businesses encourage paperless billing, and the coupons that once came in junk mail can be accessed by smart phone. The snail is becoming extinct. More importantly, with the advent of UPS, FedEx, etc. the post office is no longer the only game in town for shipping packages. Additions like priority mail and flat rate boxes have helped the post office be more competitive, but this is offset by shipping stations that both custom wrap packages and find the least expensive shipping option. The post office is going bankrupt and, unlike the rest of the government, is required to be self sustaining. In the real world, a business going under might try to lower prices and improve customer service. But the post office is not part of the real world, it is part of the government, so its solution to financial peril is to increase prices and decrease customer service. Not coincidentally, I don't go to the post office much. Good thing. I might just go postal.

Divine Dialogue

    My one regret about the house we now have is that there is no good place in either the house or yard from which to view, much less photograph, the sunset. However, we have an excellent rear view mirror reflection of it colors off the snowy Swan Peaks and I often take pictures of those. What is it about sunsets that move us? I think that at sunset the curtain between Earth and eternity lifts just a crack and we glimpse the unbearable beauty of God. I feel as if I am standing with my Creator looking up as He looks down, like Father and child sharing a moment together. In my heart I hear this divine dialogue.
     "I made this for you," He says.
     "I'm glad you like it."
     "I will love you forever."
     "Goodnight."

     And He hears the longing of my heart, not to die, but to go home and see beyond the curtain with eyes that can bear the brightness. But my thoughts are vaster than my words, all I can say is,
     "Goodnight Father. Thank you."

Because It Is

     A verse that stood out to me during this week's Bible study of the feeding of the 5000 was Mt. 14:20, "They all ate and were satisfied".  Hardly profound hermeneutics. The people had had enough to eat--but it made me think. The reason many people, including me, resist trusting Christ is the expectation that such a life could not possibly be satisfying. Our inborn appetites would not be sated with such meager fare.
     We often blame our lack of satisfaction on not having enough ______________(fill in the blank); some suggestions--fame, fortune, leisure or love. Few of us have the opportunity Solomon did to seek satisfaction while possessing world wide acclaim, a prestigious position, an abundance of wealth, women, and even wisdom, but Ecclesiastes records that even he failed miserably. The death-styles of the rich and famous are often accidental or intentional suicide.
     Christians are not satisfied because God's provision is all they get, they are satisfied because it is all they want. At least this is true for Christians not caught up in the continual, commercial coveting campaigns so prevalent in our culture. This contentment is not confined to affluent American Christians, it is also found in impoverished villages throughout the world. The simple, profound truth I realized--God's provision feels satisfying because it is.