So, I got to go home for Thanksgiving this past week.  And it was lovely.  I ate pie for every meal.  Spent time with family and friends.  Saw both of my grampas.  Played a little harp, piano, football, basketball, and chess.  I am so overwhelmed and thankful.

(Hopefully, by now, you will realize that I do not intend this blog post to be sarcastic or humerous. Yes, it shall be boring… but not if you participate.:)  You’ll see what I mean–no, i won’t do the “list the things you’re thankful for”… wait, did you want me to?).

I got to visit my grampa who has cancer this past Saturday.  In a weird way, this illness has brought me closer to him.  I’m disappointed in myself for not taking as much initiative before he was diagnosed, but again, as always in my life, I have received grace.   In this case, more time.

So, about my grampa, we always have amazing conversations about life, politics, people, gardening, wood-working, music, you name it.  Saturday’s topic was our changing culture.   There are so many theories and so many predictions and hopes and fears in regards to our country’s future, but it was nice getting the perspective of someone who has lived through and observed so many changes.  In that respect, as in many, he has more wisdom than I.

We don’t always agree (initially, though I find he typically has a much more thought-out/lived-out position than I :), but we agreed on one thing immediately.  Our way of life is changing.  Changing is vague.  More specifically, we are moving/have moved from a culture of community and interdependence to a (false) sense of community and independence–dare I say, isolation? loneliness?  Now, this is tricky because in many ways, we feel more connected to people than ever.  We have our iphones that allow us to access our email/twitter/facebook accounts at anytime in addition to receiving phone calls and text messages.   We have these communication devices with us all of the time.  I remember back 10 years ago (even less) when you had to call someone on the home phone and wait for them to respond to you.  For some reason, I was never anxious if they didn’t.  Now, it seems if I call someone on his/her cell phone and I don’t get a response by a certain time, I get nervous.  What if so-and-so’s angry with me?  What if something happened?  I have to say, for having communication at the touch of a button, our anxiety (I should just say MY… sorry to generalize it to you all!) doesn’t seem  to be decreasing any.

In addition to that, the communications that are being had are not directly with people.  They are with/through electronic devices.   Clearly (unless you are skyping/video calling), there is no eye contact, no tone of voice, no facial expression.  Our communication is down to merely words.  Words which can be, and many times are, taken completely the wrong way.   Additionally, my grampa spoke of a time (which I kind of remember living this way as a child), where neighbors met each other.  Talked to each other.  Times when the men in the neighborhood gathered to play horseshoes or poker or basketball.  People knew their neighbors.  They relied on them.  They helped them.  Now, we don’t need them cause our entire fam/friend system is carried around in our pocket, simply a text or phone call–button push–away.  Question: Are these devices truly improving communication?  Is more communication necessarily better?  (Notice:  I didn’t even mention the cheapness of the communications–how easy it is to push a button and send a nasty email vs. having a nasty conversation or mailing a nasty letter or the plethora of miscommunications that happen b/c of the lack of tone… you all know this.)

Speaking of more communication, my gramma mentioned how mothers/parents nowadays call or text their children all of the time to make sure that they are okay.  I don’t think that’s a result of bad parents.  I bet if I were a mom (yes, we’ve covered this, it’s a very good thing that I am not… ha ha), I’d probably text all the time too.  How is the whole natural parent-child separation and independence thing supposed to happen in the age of technology?  And when you think of it, how much is that replacing actual parenting?  How much parenting happens by text, that could and possibly should, happen face to face in the living room on the couch/rocking chair?  Maybe even with a hug?  Or a good cry?

Here’s what’s funny about this entire thing.  We all know this.  And we all kinda think it’s maybe not good, but we either don’t want to admit it, or don’t really think it’s that bad afterall.  I’m starting to think that it possibly is “that bad.”

I was reading a book by CS Lewis the other day called Mere Christianity.  And I love the book.  And whether or not you would consider yourself a Christian, I think it’s an excellent read.  At one point in the book, he starts talking about the decisions you make affect your heart, your soul, your mind.  The idea that these parts of you are not static entities, but constantly moving in a certain direction.  In his opinion (and I seem to agree), moving either closer to or further away from the creature you (were) intended to be.  One of a heavenly sort–not necessarily in appearance/action–please don’t misunderstand me.  But a creature full of joy, peace, love, kindness.  A creature that would naturally react to life in those ways, no matter what is going down.  (At a different part of the book, Lewis makes the argument that you actually can see a person’s character more clearly when they are taken off-guard by difficult or unpleasant events.  Interesting thought… really!)  The other creature is of a hellish sort.  I’m not talking of one consumed by external things like pornography, alcoholism, or gossip, but one who is internally full of rage, hatred, fear, and LONELINESS, no matter what shows on the outside.  And those characteristics to their extremist points (increasing over infinity) is what Lewis would consider hell.  Again, I think I agree.  And that’s a terrifying thought.

Loneliness, specifically, seems to be the biggest problem with this new(ish) wave of communication.  We are not spending time with people, but with things–computers, phones, etc.  The scariest thing is that we think that we are spending time with people.  Are we?  Are we increasing in peace, love, joy, etc. as a community?  Do we even really have human communities?

So, here’s the participation part.  Let’s work together to change our culture.

“Yes, Elizabeth, that’s nice.  But you have a facebook, blog, twitter, myspace, cell phone, etc. too!”

“Dear friend, I know.   I recognize change needs to happen on my end for sure.  But what does that look like?  Does that mean getting rid of those parts of life?  What other changes could/should I/we make?  How can I/we use this new technology without losing human interaction?

Or… am I off my rocker?  The answer to that question is quite possibly a resounding yes!

If not, if true change needs to take place, let’s visualize together what our communities COULD/SHOULD look like and work towards that.  Together.  As a community.  As people moving away from loneliness towards togetherness.  No matter how initially uncomfortable.

“I’m trading comfort for human life.  And that’s not just murder, that’s suicide.”  –Derek Webb

Let’s not do that.

Much love and a desire for true community to you all!


The Embodiment of Grace

November 14, 2009

Any of you who have seen me ski, ice skate, or even at times walk, know that either this blog title is not at all referring to me, or is itself actually sarcastic.  In any case, you may want to read on…

So, as mentioned, I have never been one thought of as coordinated.  Simple things, like running, shooting a basketball, or throwing a frisbee, did not come naturally to me.  And quite frankly, still do not.

Let me provide some more concrete examples for you.

During the winters in high school (cold, icy and wonderful Wisconsin winters), my friends would strategically walk behind me on the sidewalk.  To block the wind, you might assume.  Well, maybe, but in addition to providing that important service, I also had a knack for finding the ice spots–quite dramatically.  Complete with arm flails, full spins, and at times, complete wipe-outs.  I went to a Christian high school, which, as any good Christian school should do, mentioned, on multiple occasions, the story of the good samaritan.  This apparently was lost on my friends.  Rather than attempt to help me prevent numerous injuries (even during basketball season), they used my clutsiness to their advantage.  Yes, I was their sacrifical lamb.  Too dramatic?  Maybe… maybe not.

Another example can be found on the ski slope–specifically, the bunny hill.  My first day skiing, the concept of edging or weaving didn’t stick.  I think the technical term is “bombing?”  Yes, I was quite the bunny hill bomber, each time punctuating my high speed dive with a full body crash at the end.  My sister, Andrea, on the other hand (markedly more coordinated than myself), skied gracefully down immediately and did not fall.  Finally, on attempt number 10 (or was it 15) for me, my goal was no longer to maintain control of my speed by weaving down the hill.  I had accepted my bombing tendency, and focused my efforts to staying upright at the bottom of the hill.  I followed my sister up the lift and watched as she carefully began to ski down the hill.  Without even attempting to pass her, I began (as usual) gaining an uncomfortably high amount of speed.  As I felt myself approaching her, unsure whether or not I could stop myself from hitting her, I thought it best to casually and calmly inform her of my presence.  “Andrea!…. look out! I… can’t… stop!!!!”  She did what any other person who had just watched me attempt to ski for 60 minutes would do.  She immediately collapsed in a heap.  I, on the other hand, skied down full blast and miraculously, possibly accidentally, spun around, maintaining my balance, and remained upright.  Out of shear joy, and possibly intense shock, I began to pump my ski poles in the air.  (You might agree with everyone else watching that my enthusiasm did not quite match my accomplishment.  However, you try crashing the bunny hill 10-15 times unsuccessfully while 70 year olds and 4 year olds alike ski down gracefully.)  As my fists hit the air for the 3rd time, I noticed my sister in a clump on the hill glaring at me.  Yes, at this time, we both wish I was more coordinated.

So, why, you might ask, and I too, did I just spend all this time talking about skiing.  Not sure.  I think I want it to snow.  The main point of this story was to provide the context (for those of you unfamiliar with my natural athletic skill) for the story tonight.

My friend and I had just spent the night out on the town, mainly wandering around, but also telling stories and laughing.  She told me this amazing story (she’s a writer, I’ll have her tell you) about the two times she fell over on her bike.  Recently.  As I listened to her stories, I felt secure in my biking abilities, as if nothing like that would happen to me.

One hour later…

We are biking back along the trail.  Thankfully, my friend led the way, as I would have preferred biking on the street.  As I was biking, I noticed my right foot start to feel tense, as if a shoelace was wrapping around it and sticking to the pedal.  Well, it was.  The next part of the story gets hazy–it happened oh so fast–so, I’ll give you Lauren’s version.  Apparently, I yelled, “Lauren, hold on!”, threw both of my arms into the air, and completely tipped over to the ground.  I do not remember being quite so dramatic, but I guess it doesn’t surprise me.  Not only am I a clutz.  I’m a total drama queen.