by Liz | Jul 23, 2009 | main
Last night I decided to try to recast a webpage that someone had created in Flash into html/css. Now, if those terms mean nothing to you, don’t worry. Just know that it was a decontruction/reconstruction exercise. A brain stretch to look beyond the final appearance and discover different ways to divide the pieces and put them back using a different set of rules… only the goal is to have the end result to appear the same. Smoke and mirrors. A phone that looks like a rotary dial, but is in reality a touch tone.
The point being that I stretched my brain to look beyond the images on the page and re-evaluate how I saw them. I had to take a function that is most easily represented by plain, squared-off rectangles and make it pretty. Or, was it that I took something really pretty and complex and broke it into little functional boxes? In the end, I see it quite differently than I did before. I hope that when someone else sees it, that they will not see it differently. The viewer just needs to know that it works well.
In the end, I’m not totally sure that the way I went about the project is going to be an effective solution. But, the process was worthwhile. To borrow from the original author of the thing I was working on:
Brain stretching is never wasted– sometimes you end up applying what you learned to something totally different from what you thought you were working on!
Now, back to the journey (which, it seems is more important than reaching the final destination.)
by Liz | Jul 21, 2009 | main
You just never know what mouthpiece or tool God will use to get your attention. You’re just minding your own business and BANG! There you are looking at something you didn’t even realize you needed to hear.
I am a frequent listener to The Radio Reader on NPR. Currently, Dick Estelle is reading “A Son of the Game” (James Dodson)which is a personal memoir all tied up with middle age and golf. It’s interesting, but not a title I would expect to go to for spiritual direction. At least not until James begins to fill us in on his friend Tom. Tom is quite and interesting person – I’d like to meet him. It appears that one of the pivotal events in Tom’s life was working with Mother Teresa in Calcutta for a couple of months. The man was playing golf in Asia and decided it would be interesting to see if he could be of assistance to Mother Teresa for a couple of days. Two months later he returns to the US a changed man.
But, the Mother Teresa connection, interesting though it is, is not the thing that grabbed me. Later in the book, Tom reflects on remaking himself. He describes his perfect life as a golf pro, wonderful wife, young son, plenty of money. Perfect. Except that he realized that “As the Budhists would say, his Joy Bell was broken.” What a description of that place in life where things seem so perfect but there is something missing. Something must change. The Joy Bell is broken.
I think my joy bell is in sad shape right now. I’m a point of making some decisions that will affect the next few years of my life directly. There is the logical way to go. This is the way that makes the most sense financially. This way I can afford to do what I think I want to do. But, at what cost?
Sometimes, I don’t realize that something is missing until I find myself in a place where I feel whole – I feel “right” – as in, this is where I am supposed to be. It may not be where I think I want to be, but it is where I am supposed to be. Or it is a situation where I realize that I do have that sense of being whole, or in proper alignment.
That joy bell needs to have its crack repaired. I just hope to be able to listen and discover the best way to fix it.
by Liz | Jul 16, 2009 | main
OK – so it is the middle of the night — my eyes are dry and my spouse is going through a period of problematic breathing (snoring?); so I decided to read my email and come upon today’s first reading for mass. It’s Exodus 3 and it contains the following:
“But,” said Moses to God, “when I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what am I to tell them?” God replied, “I am who am.” Then he added, “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.”
I used to pass a sign at a church that misquoted this by saying “I AM WHO I AM” – That gave me pause, because it seems to miss the point. “I AM WHO I AM” seems to imply a being that is smug and uninterested. I read that and get the picture of a God who says – “Just deal with it” and sits there doing his own thing. I AM is the “not a name” reference to God as the foundation of the universe. I AM refuses to fit into that box that we so often want to shove God into. I AM is not God captured in a consecrated host for communion but God beyond all names, present in everything and every moment. I AM is the source of our being.
When this reading comes around in the cycle, I am called back to one of my favorite literary genre’s: fantasy/science fiction. In fantasy, one often discovers wizards who will never reveal their true names because to know a wizard’s true/real name gives power over him/her. And so it is with me – with all of us, I dare say: we try our best to give God a proper name so that we have some control. This way we hope to have God do our bidding instead of the other way around.
And so, at 3 am, I sit with joy at the realization that I AM is more than I can ever grasp. I can rest in the understanding that this is “a good thing.” I think I’ll find my eyedrops and head back to bed secure in the knowledge that I AM is always present to me, if I listen. (And, that is easier as the snoring has ceased);
by Liz | Jul 8, 2009 | main
My husband lost another aunt last winter. She was, I believe, the last surviving civilian WWII POW (Philippines) in the state of Maine. There were lots of stories there that took decades to become tellable. We are here in her old stomping grounds, visiting and sharing meals with family that was close to her and I notice something about the conversation. There are times when Jackie is still referred to in the present temse. “Jackie really likes this” or “She wants you to have this.” We even having dinner to celebrate her birthday this week. All the while, this is co-mingled with talk of the continuing disposition of her things… things that are precious to keep and things that can finally be passed on or gotten rid of.
It brings to mind the Easter Season and Pentecost. Jesus is gone, but He is still around. What do we remember? What is he still telling us? He’s gone, but no! he’s still here. It’s been several months, but only now is it becoming clear — We are the ones to carry on.
I can only hope that we will be remember with as much love as she is.
by Liz | Jun 26, 2009 | main
by Liz | Jun 18, 2009 | main
I’m a mother of 3 and a grandmother of 2. There’s a wedding (3rd of 3) before year’s end. My children are adults – but they are still children on some days, and my babies on all days. As such, it becomes difficult at times to stand my ground and not be guilt-ridden when they try to play the “Mom always loved you better” game.
To be honest, they don’t do this very often. It’s often triggered by frustrations in their own lives. I know because I have a Mother and I know the temptation to play the game with my own siblings. And, it happens when we are unsettled in our own lives. “You did this for him – but not me.” or “You spend more time with her children than mine.” or “He/She gets away with murder and I’m always held responsible.”
This game seems to have reared its head recently. This time, I’m not playing. If push comes to shove, I’ll step aside and let them work it out between themselves. I love them all — and I’ve done my best to love each of them the best I can in each situation.
I’m not God, but I’m certainly called to try to understand just a little bit of how God’s love works. God loves me enough to meet my needs. I don’t need to compare what I get to what the next guy gets. Mind you, I said I don’t need to – but, all too often I still do it and that causes me unnecessary pain and suffering. Same lesson my children need to learn with me… I love you each. And that requires something different for each of you.
I’m standing my ground. I know I love each of them. And I won’t be bullied into the comparison game. Each one is special.
