Traditons

There is a certain sort of power that comes with doing something the same way over and over again. Whether it be the way you get ready in the morning, the way your family celebrates Christmas every year, or something as generic as saying the traditional "pledge of allegiance", traditions hold a certain sway over our lives. There's magic in going through motions and saying words that have been said by the people before us and will be said by the people after us. Traditions center us. Traditions remind us of who we are and where we've come from. Sometimes, traditions even point to where we are going.

I know that as a mid twenties girl, I'm still becoming who I will be. And sometimes in that process I get a little lost or misplaced. But when I go home and engage in some of the family traditions that we've had over the years, it reminds me deep down who I am at my core. When I come in the house and in following tradition the first thing I do is find someone to hug and love on, it reminds me that who I am is someone who loves first and foremost. And somehow all that confusion about who I am and who I want to be slips away.

When life gets a little too overwhelming or I'm really confused or down or whatever, there is something about the traditional Methodist service at our church that has a calming effect on me. Specifically, singing the doxology brings such a quiet peace to my mind and heart. Maybe I'm just sentimental, but when I imagine the people who throughout history who have sung those exacts world- somehow it reminds me that they survived and so will I. That in the moment life seem too much, too big, too hard, but in the grand scheme of things it reminds me of who I come from. That people have gone before me and in what tradition I follow. That we are survivors and that all things pass.

I worry about life. I worry about the future. I wonder where I will be in six months, six years. I wonder if things will turn out the way I imagine or if there is a fork in the road just ahead of me. I worry that I've missed out on some great opportunities or if the choices I'm considering are the wrong paths for me to take. But then when I wake up in the morning, I get out of bed and stretch towards the ceiling. Flip on the music. Make the coffee. Do the same things I've always done. And I'm reminded that no matter where I am in or what happens, some traditions will hold true. That it doesn't so much matter where I am going, but that I am going and going as me.

Traditions are good things. They are powerful things. They are wonderful things.

But traditions can also be dangerous. We should always watch to make sure that we are the keepers of the tradition, instead of the traditions acting as keepers of us.

I am being refined. Redefined. Set apart.
I am learning to love. To embrace. To believe.
I am growing up. Growing in faith. Growing in love.
I am becoming whole. Fulfilled. Completed.
I am being blessed. Healed. Forgiven.
I am being shown grace. Mercy. Majesty.
I am longing for Eden. God's presence. Heaven.
I am receiveing Strength. Comfort. Discernment.
I am being shown that life is momentary. Mortal. Fleeting.
I am being taugh to Worship. To yearn. To praise.
I am accepting my Calling. My mission. My passion.
I am learning to Jump. To trust. To risk.
I am discovering the I Am. Who I am. Who I am in Him.
I am falling in Love. With Love. With the One who is Love

life lessons from turtles #1

Last week we had some gorgeous weather. Sunny, breezy, warm enough to enjoy, but not so hot that you couldn't be outside and enjoy it. So I took my lunch break one day and decided to go walk on one of my favorite trails.

Now I tend to pride myself on being a constructive user of time so when I walk, I ususally take that time to listen to podcasts or books on tape (ok, occasionally I listen to ordinary music). So I was walking down my trail and listening to a sermon and really was just focused on getting the walk done and feeling good about it, and halfway down the trail I walked passed a group of eight people- looked like two mothers and several children. And the moms were trying to walk but every few feet one of the children would stop to show them a flower or a bug or something like that. I remember feeling kind of bad for the mothers that they couldn't just walk consistently.

Well needless to say I passed them on up and continued down the trail. When I got to the end of the trail, what did I do? I turned around and headed back to the beginning. On my way back, I passed the same families. and this time the little girl waved at me like crazy. So I took my head phones off and said "Hi." She then preceeded to grab my hand and drag me about ten feet back where there was a little turtle trying to cross the path but he was stuck. Apparently I had walked right past him a few moments before and didn't notice him, but this little girl had seen him and thought he was th neatest thing. I thanked her for pointing out such a great turtle and her mom called her to continue the walk.

I sat there and watched the turtle for a little bit. Watched him move his head in and out of the shell. Watched him try to get over the path. I picked him up and looked at the colors on his shell and helped him across the path. And it struck me that I was so busy being productive on the first walk by- exercising and listening to my ipod- that I had totally missed the turtle. Just didn't notice him. And it made me wonder- what else am I missing out on? Am I getting so caught up in being productive, getting the job done, being successful, that I really am missing out on the little wonders of the world- like flowers, and turtles, and bugs? And if I don't notice little things like that- what else am I missing? Who am I ignoring?

I started out my walk feeling sorry for the mom whose kids kept stopping them to point out the flowers and the bugs and everything else that seems so miraculous as a child, but in the end I realized I was the one who was missing out.

When did I lose my sense of wonder? When I stop looking around me? When did I start missing all the little things that make this life beautiful? How long has it been since I've stopped and just marveled in the sunlight? When did I lose my child like spirit? When did I stop getting excited over the little things?

And how do I get back to that child-like way of life?

"What keeps us alive? What allows us to endure?
I think it is the hope of loving, or being loved."

-Meister Eckhart

For those of you who haven't figured it out already: I'm a nerd. A geek. Somebody who should have been beat up in the school yard a long time ago. And I'm ok with it.

I love Star Wars. I read sci-fi.
And so, on Thursday night I went with friends to the opening of the new Star Trek movie.
Now, this was the first Star Trek I'd ever seen.
And it was good.

Capt. James T. Kirks in his end of the movie soliloquy talks about space. And how its the final frontier. Its all that we have left in this universe to explore. Its the only mystery remaining.
And while I like Captain Kirk (and think he's slightly adorable), I disagree with that.

(now I realize that all of you are slightly judging me for 1. Going to see Star Trek and 2. For arguing and disagreeing with a fictional character. But stick with me and see where I go with this).

For all our knowledge, for all our discoveries, for all our genetic mapping, stem cell research, GPS navigation systems, deciding Pluto's not really a planet- for all of our progress and advancement- space is not the final frontier or the only mystery we have looming before.

For all our wisdom, we still just don't understand the human spirit.

What is it in people that keeps them fighting for life, when all doctors have declared imminent death?
What is it in people that makes them determined to love and be loved, when they've experienced the breaking of their heart?
What is it that makes people continue to marry and make life long covenants with each other, despite the overwhelming divorce rates?
Why do people keep fighting for freedom when they've fought for thousands of years and gained nothing?
What keeps that young girl going to auditions, when everyone tells her she doesn't have what it takes?
What keeps us praying when we aren't hearing answers?

For all our robots, advanced weaponry, and blue ray dvds, we still can't explain what it is about the human spirit that keeps on hoping. Never surrendering. Never stopping. Always believing.

Space isn't the final frontier. We are.
We are a mystery that can never be explained.
For space is a singular thing- that someday will be explored in compeltion.
But we humans, we are many and diverse and constantly changing and evolving.
There will always be mystery and new frontiers in the world.
They are within us.

We don't know. We don't have a clue what that tiny voice inside of us is. That place in us that urges us to keep on, to push on, to remain faithful, and to always hope.