In 2007 while on sabbatical I flew enough to gain special status. This was especially appreciated the following spring. Nora flew to NYC for her semester there with 2 checked bags. Then the airlines changed their baggage policy. Roger and I met her there to see her art show and help her move home. As a preferred flyer I was able to check her luggage for free.
Since then I have not flown enough to maintain that status. However this year I gained gold status at Starbucks. They sent me a gold card with my name on it because I bought so many cups of hot chocolate.
I am thrilled by such special attention. Great marketing.
Recently I detoxed my system and discovered that hot chocolate gives me headaches. You can't imagine how much I depend on this comforting drink during the long dreary days of winter.
I am so grateful for how energetic I have felt lately, that has to outweigh the savoring of a drink that leaves me aching the next morning. But o what a loss! My Starbucks gold status has already been assured for another year, but alas, after that, I think it will fall by the way of airline privileges. At least I hope so.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Competition
Last week I had the privilege of attending events at the World Equestrian Games. During the jumping competition, contestants are penalized for knocking down any part of a fence, refusing to jump, or going over the time limit.
The first several horses received faults, mostly for knocking down rails on fences. Finally a horse ran the course clear, and the crowd responded with thunderous applause. After some individual jumpers, we entered the team competition.
Each of 10 teams had 4 riders, and the US came in to the evening in third place. As each horse and rider traversed the course, the crowd held its breath, willing the horses to clear the jumps. With no music or commentary, the venue remained silent for the 84 seconds allotted each round. If a horse did hit a jump, a collective sigh rose from the crowd. If the horse seemed to falter and risk falling, the crowd gasped involuntarily.
After each round, the applause rose immediately following the final jump, regardless of the country of the rider. Our US team had some disastrous rounds, and dropped to 10th in the competition. Yet despite the audience being mostly American, they clapped for each competitor, as if they were rooting for the horses to succeed, despite nationality. And of course, the horses have no idea of national loyalty anyway.
I love my Kentucky Wildcats and my Cincinnati Reds, and enjoy rooting for them. Part of the typical ballgame experience is rooting against the competition. Yet the absence of that kind of malice at this event refreshed me. I enjoyed just encouraging all the competitors instead of disdaining the "enemy."
Would that life had more such moments.
The first several horses received faults, mostly for knocking down rails on fences. Finally a horse ran the course clear, and the crowd responded with thunderous applause. After some individual jumpers, we entered the team competition.
Each of 10 teams had 4 riders, and the US came in to the evening in third place. As each horse and rider traversed the course, the crowd held its breath, willing the horses to clear the jumps. With no music or commentary, the venue remained silent for the 84 seconds allotted each round. If a horse did hit a jump, a collective sigh rose from the crowd. If the horse seemed to falter and risk falling, the crowd gasped involuntarily.
After each round, the applause rose immediately following the final jump, regardless of the country of the rider. Our US team had some disastrous rounds, and dropped to 10th in the competition. Yet despite the audience being mostly American, they clapped for each competitor, as if they were rooting for the horses to succeed, despite nationality. And of course, the horses have no idea of national loyalty anyway.
I love my Kentucky Wildcats and my Cincinnati Reds, and enjoy rooting for them. Part of the typical ballgame experience is rooting against the competition. Yet the absence of that kind of malice at this event refreshed me. I enjoyed just encouraging all the competitors instead of disdaining the "enemy."
Would that life had more such moments.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Loyalties
My friend Dennis and his third and last child Becca had to discuss her options for college related to Dennis' wardrobe. Would Becca's dad wear Tennessee orange? No, he had to admit he couldn't do that.
You see Dennis and I both grew up in the Bluegrass state, and most of the commonwealth bleeds blue, with the exception of that small corner that should just push itself over the Ohio River into Indiana.
Growing up blue makes it hard to even think about wearing Tennessee orange, Duke's version of blue, and never Cardinal red.
My daughters both attended Wheaton, a division 3 school, not a competitor in the big dance, so I wear their alma mater shirts with pride. My first son Luke decided to make wearing Kentucky blue a full-time occupation, so that was easy. The best part of visiting UK on a college visit was both of us stocking up on new shirts while in Lexington. Neither of Dennis' older daughter's attended a division 1 school, so he has worn their college spirit wear willingly as well.
Now my last child Wesley is considering Illinois, Purdue, Georgia Tech, IIT and Johns Hopkins. JHU and IIT are division 3 schools, so no conflict there. To make it worse, the color of Illinois is orange, and Ga Tech is yellow, two colors that do not exist in my wardrobe, and for good reason, not in my family of colors at all.
So, how do we choose a college? Should Dennis and I get to pick for our offspring based on the implications for spirit wear for the next four years and beyond?
Some of you are thinking this is the silliest thing you've ever heard, that's the reaction I got from one friend. And at one level, you are absolutely right. I truly want Wesley to go to the best possible college he can, and the one he most prefers, regardless of any preferences I have about the clothing commitment controversy.
The problem is, I'm Irish. Sounds silly. But it did help me to learn about my heritage that fierce loyalty is a common trait. I would feel a sense of divided loyalties and almost betrayal not wearing Kentucky blue, but at least Wesley isn't considering Tennessee or Louisville.
In this case, I must bend my loyalties for colleges to a wider and deeper arc of loyalty to my son, and support what he cares about.
Yet I am glad for the part of my personality that makes me so fiercely loyal. Though sometimes misguided, that same faithful doggedness keeps me engaged with my family, and hopefully with my God.
In a sense every day I am supposed to don the spirit of Christ. That should be my clothing, and what everyone sees when they look at me. I should be many times more adamant in my loyalty to that attire than any other garment. When I am challenged to adopt the popular fashion of the world, and by that I mean more than physical clothing, I should protest and remain clothed only in Christ. Would that as I dress myself each morning, I would remember this underlying truth.
You see Dennis and I both grew up in the Bluegrass state, and most of the commonwealth bleeds blue, with the exception of that small corner that should just push itself over the Ohio River into Indiana.
Growing up blue makes it hard to even think about wearing Tennessee orange, Duke's version of blue, and never Cardinal red.
My daughters both attended Wheaton, a division 3 school, not a competitor in the big dance, so I wear their alma mater shirts with pride. My first son Luke decided to make wearing Kentucky blue a full-time occupation, so that was easy. The best part of visiting UK on a college visit was both of us stocking up on new shirts while in Lexington. Neither of Dennis' older daughter's attended a division 1 school, so he has worn their college spirit wear willingly as well.
Now my last child Wesley is considering Illinois, Purdue, Georgia Tech, IIT and Johns Hopkins. JHU and IIT are division 3 schools, so no conflict there. To make it worse, the color of Illinois is orange, and Ga Tech is yellow, two colors that do not exist in my wardrobe, and for good reason, not in my family of colors at all.
So, how do we choose a college? Should Dennis and I get to pick for our offspring based on the implications for spirit wear for the next four years and beyond?
Some of you are thinking this is the silliest thing you've ever heard, that's the reaction I got from one friend. And at one level, you are absolutely right. I truly want Wesley to go to the best possible college he can, and the one he most prefers, regardless of any preferences I have about the clothing commitment controversy.
The problem is, I'm Irish. Sounds silly. But it did help me to learn about my heritage that fierce loyalty is a common trait. I would feel a sense of divided loyalties and almost betrayal not wearing Kentucky blue, but at least Wesley isn't considering Tennessee or Louisville.
In this case, I must bend my loyalties for colleges to a wider and deeper arc of loyalty to my son, and support what he cares about.
Yet I am glad for the part of my personality that makes me so fiercely loyal. Though sometimes misguided, that same faithful doggedness keeps me engaged with my family, and hopefully with my God.
In a sense every day I am supposed to don the spirit of Christ. That should be my clothing, and what everyone sees when they look at me. I should be many times more adamant in my loyalty to that attire than any other garment. When I am challenged to adopt the popular fashion of the world, and by that I mean more than physical clothing, I should protest and remain clothed only in Christ. Would that as I dress myself each morning, I would remember this underlying truth.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Shedding
In the winter horses accumulate a thick coat to protect them from the weather. Come spring, it falls off in huge pieces. I could stand and groom Mr. Asia who looked like he had wallpaper falling off his sides and after some work with the shedding blade, a beautiful shiny coat would emerge.
However Sunny my shepherd mutt sheds all year. I can see chunks of hair protruding from her coat. I pull them off, but if I decide to brush her, no matter how long I brush, when I stop hair always floats loose on her coat, so I'm never really done and little progress can be seen, despite the pile of hair that could stuff a pillow.
Lately God's theme for me has been dying to self. I would like to brush away my "self" like I used to a horse's coat, in large satisfying pieces that left a sheen underneath. Or better yet like a snake sheds skin in one miraculously removed piece. But instead my self clings to me like Sunny's hair, always needing daily removal, constant vigilance. Lord give me perseverance to keep shedding.
However Sunny my shepherd mutt sheds all year. I can see chunks of hair protruding from her coat. I pull them off, but if I decide to brush her, no matter how long I brush, when I stop hair always floats loose on her coat, so I'm never really done and little progress can be seen, despite the pile of hair that could stuff a pillow.
Lately God's theme for me has been dying to self. I would like to brush away my "self" like I used to a horse's coat, in large satisfying pieces that left a sheen underneath. Or better yet like a snake sheds skin in one miraculously removed piece. But instead my self clings to me like Sunny's hair, always needing daily removal, constant vigilance. Lord give me perseverance to keep shedding.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The Future
Easily obsessed with change and the end of the world, Americans think little about the future past their own lifetime. We plan to be sure we have enough in the retirement account, but we rarely build anything that will last beyond our days on earth.
My friend Bud planted walnut trees when he was 60. Instead of looking for a harvest of nuts, he pruned the trees while young to provide long straight lumber someday. That day would come long after his graduation to heaven, but Bud increased the value of his property for his descendants. He was thinking past his own life span and concerns.
Too often we are short-sighted and self-focused. We don't think about our own family descendants and the legacy we are leaving them, much less how we are impacting the earth for coming generations.
Rumors swirl that the world will end in 2012, but that's not the first time that has happened. Such rumors circulated multiple times since Jesus left the earth, and the world may well last another 2000 years before its renewal in God's Kingdom. So we need to be responsible with creation, and with each other.
Bud didn't just plant trees for his family's future. He is a kind and gentle man, who has also passed on a firm foundation of spiritual nurture and health to his family. That will guide their future even more than trees.
What are you planting that will influence others?
My friend Bud planted walnut trees when he was 60. Instead of looking for a harvest of nuts, he pruned the trees while young to provide long straight lumber someday. That day would come long after his graduation to heaven, but Bud increased the value of his property for his descendants. He was thinking past his own life span and concerns.
Too often we are short-sighted and self-focused. We don't think about our own family descendants and the legacy we are leaving them, much less how we are impacting the earth for coming generations.
Rumors swirl that the world will end in 2012, but that's not the first time that has happened. Such rumors circulated multiple times since Jesus left the earth, and the world may well last another 2000 years before its renewal in God's Kingdom. So we need to be responsible with creation, and with each other.
Bud didn't just plant trees for his family's future. He is a kind and gentle man, who has also passed on a firm foundation of spiritual nurture and health to his family. That will guide their future even more than trees.
What are you planting that will influence others?
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Summer
Summer is kids out of school. Early morning sunshine. Hot afternoons. Late evening sunsets. Time with family.
Summer is less on the schedule. More interests pulling every direction. Sweating. Swimming.
Summer is family time. Vacation. Reunions. Love.
Summer is my favorite time of year.
Summer is less on the schedule. More interests pulling every direction. Sweating. Swimming.
Summer is family time. Vacation. Reunions. Love.
Summer is my favorite time of year.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Looking Ahead
Planning vacations is my favorite pastime. I might just prefer it to going on them. After all, when the actual time arrives, so many events can fall short of expectation, but while they are still ideas, it sounds like the most fantastic week ever!
This year we begin by driving to see Nora's graduate exhibit in Baltimore. Check it out at: http://www.mica.edu/News/MACA_Thesis_Exhibition_Explores_Issues_of_Social_Justice_July_15-31.html
Her dad hasn't been to her school yet, and he'll get to see Nora in full force, with a crowd of people admiring her unique work.
From there we crash that night at the Faulkners, friends willing to let us use their floor to save money on a motel even though we don't have time to really stay. Then it's on to Boston, where Nora will read in her college roommate Farrell's wedding.
The next evening we visit Ben's church plant, another college friend of Nora's. Then we drive to the far west corner of Massachusetts to see the MassMoCA, the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, where they have some galleries as big as a football field to display large pieces.
That afternoon we will drive to the top of the highest peak in Massachusetts, before meandering south to camp in Connecticut so we can mark off another state visited.
Wednesday, which happens to be my birthday, we have three hours to drive with NY city in the middle, worth a stop for an urban fix. Pommes Frites and a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Then on to a Doubletree in Wilmington, which I got for a great price on Priceline, warm chocolate chip cookies here we come. The next day we visit Du Pont gunpowder factory for Wesley, as well as driving to Dover to see their air command museum.
That night we sleep on Assateague Island, and the next morning visit the wild ponies I grew up loving from Marguerite Henry's book Misty. A childhood dream finally realized.
From there a stop at a NASA post, a drive by Annapolis, then back to Baltimore. Our last day will include a sport legends museum for Luke, an Orioles game, and somewhere in there some delicious gelato.
A month from now I'll be living this, and I hope it meets expectations. Typically part of it will, and part of it won't, and I only hope I can roll with it. Just being with the whole family will be the best part, especially since we don't know when that will stop being a vacation privilege.
When I consider my yearly ritual, planning a vacation, then living it, I am glad that one final "vacation" will exceed expectations. I really don't even have to plan, I already have my reservation. Just believing in Jesus means he's planning for me, he's got a deluxe room waiting. The weather will be blissful, the activities ample, and the fellowship literally divine. And my yearly stress reliever will become a never ending way of life.
May this year's vacation be a little taste of that coming reality.
This year we begin by driving to see Nora's graduate exhibit in Baltimore. Check it out at: http://www.mica.edu/News/MACA_Thesis_Exhibition_Explores_Issues_of_Social_Justice_July_15-31.html
Her dad hasn't been to her school yet, and he'll get to see Nora in full force, with a crowd of people admiring her unique work.
From there we crash that night at the Faulkners, friends willing to let us use their floor to save money on a motel even though we don't have time to really stay. Then it's on to Boston, where Nora will read in her college roommate Farrell's wedding.
The next evening we visit Ben's church plant, another college friend of Nora's. Then we drive to the far west corner of Massachusetts to see the MassMoCA, the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, where they have some galleries as big as a football field to display large pieces.
That afternoon we will drive to the top of the highest peak in Massachusetts, before meandering south to camp in Connecticut so we can mark off another state visited.
Wednesday, which happens to be my birthday, we have three hours to drive with NY city in the middle, worth a stop for an urban fix. Pommes Frites and a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.
Then on to a Doubletree in Wilmington, which I got for a great price on Priceline, warm chocolate chip cookies here we come. The next day we visit Du Pont gunpowder factory for Wesley, as well as driving to Dover to see their air command museum.
That night we sleep on Assateague Island, and the next morning visit the wild ponies I grew up loving from Marguerite Henry's book Misty. A childhood dream finally realized.
From there a stop at a NASA post, a drive by Annapolis, then back to Baltimore. Our last day will include a sport legends museum for Luke, an Orioles game, and somewhere in there some delicious gelato.
A month from now I'll be living this, and I hope it meets expectations. Typically part of it will, and part of it won't, and I only hope I can roll with it. Just being with the whole family will be the best part, especially since we don't know when that will stop being a vacation privilege.
When I consider my yearly ritual, planning a vacation, then living it, I am glad that one final "vacation" will exceed expectations. I really don't even have to plan, I already have my reservation. Just believing in Jesus means he's planning for me, he's got a deluxe room waiting. The weather will be blissful, the activities ample, and the fellowship literally divine. And my yearly stress reliever will become a never ending way of life.
May this year's vacation be a little taste of that coming reality.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
