on perspective

When we were building our church in Calgary, Alberta there was great debate about what roofing material should be used. Truth told, it was more about money than vision, but the question was whether we buy the cheaper 50-year tile roofing or invest in a metal roof that has a longer roof-life. (Made that up. Roof - life. Like shelf - life, only on a roof. Pretty dynamic for first thing in the morning, huh?!)

Okay - my friend who is an ancient Franciscan Friar poked fun at our group when I told him of the dilemma. He pointed out that the Roman Catholics put tile roofing on their churches because they expect their church to be there in hundreds of years. Us protestants feel much more temporary, and build for this generation, expecting our church to become a pizza parlor in 50 years. Or the pastor has little vision of the church beyond his own life, while a priest knows the church is not dependent on him nor owned by him. So says my dear friar.

Today I heard an Indian man from New Delhi commenting on Iran and the issues of political relationships. The issue in question is the pressure India is getting to participate in sanctions against Iran in response to Iran's nuclear policies. The man said, "We are neighbors. We have to live with Iran now and a thousand years from now."His words took my breath away. I so often take a short cut view of the world. Short cut solutions. Expedient actions. What we can do today. Tomorrow be damned. That sort of thing. The sort of thinking that causes the Gulf oil disaster. The kind of thinking that makes me willing to fight with my neighbor, or the man in my church. They won't be here forever. It doesn't matter. What if I saw the world and life in a perspective that went far out from my life. Into my great grandchildren's life. Into a church generations past my own.

I have something to learn about this. Today I am going to look at everything I see and choose from this lens and challenge myself to a long view.

What I learned yesterday

This morning over my coffee I had a realization. I realized that I often form an opinion of a person from one experience of them. And I realized that this is far too small a framework from which to assess any life.

I even know what this is called: Implicit Personality. This theory suggests that within 30 seconds or a minute of interaction with a person we react to them based on a central trait. From that one trait which we notice (probably based on our own issues) we create a composite of traits - we add traits. Then we begin to respond to them based on the traits we have assigned to them even if these are not real. We believe the traits we have imposed on them are who they are, even though we are the ones who have plopped these traits on top of them.

Let me try to put it into a picture. I meet a woman who is laughing and communicating well in a social setting. Ah I say to myself, I know that kind of person. She is confident, smart, and knows how to manage her life. Then, if I feel insecure about that kind of women I might say, "I can't be her friend." Or if I feel confident and want a friend like that I might say, "I must get to know her. She is so fabulous."

Well, who is she really? I only know one thing about her. She is being present to this group in a relaxed way. Everything else I have added to the one trait I see.

The trait we notice is usually something that triggers us. If I have body issues, and I encounter a person who is overweight or not well groomed I might begin to add traits of thoughtlessness, insincerity, wastefulness. If I meet a man with a pony tail and a bit of a strut (this is actually one of my trigger traits) I think - this man likes power. He wants to dominate. And so on. I add and add.

Now, I have sometimes justified this by saying to myself that I am intuitive (which I am) and I can read people (which I sometimes can.) But you know what? I have gotten things wrong, terribly wrong, more than once. I have laden a life with traits - and dare I say it - even repeated those traits to others, without any real knowledge of a person.

We are all complex. Every personality has layers and snarls and large pastures of beauty. I am going to slow down in my evaluation of what a person is. I am going to give second chances and third chances. I am going to suspend my judgment and be one who thinks, "maybe this is the best she can be today, I do not know what is happening in her life."

That's what I know for sure today.

on knitting needles

Sometimes I feel concerned that I am not 'changing the world.' My best life happens in a quiet gentle way, it seems, and yet there are plenty of thumbs in my back pushing me to be a change agent, a leader, a world influencer.

But I feel a smaller, quieter voice calling me to the gentle life. Calling me to go quietly, to plow my field with oxen instead of a high powered tractor with air conditioning. Calling me to knit with fine knitting needles.Some people knit their life with big fat knitting needles. Progress is fast. Resources are used up quickly, maximized, renewed. What is created is big.

There is a set of these knitting needles in my closet. I have used them. I knit at a furious pace, clicking away and drawing interest from others as my large patterns came into view.

Now I knit with very fine needles. The pace is slow. I often have to pause and really look at my work to see what is being made. Not many people stand around watching me. And more than likely my needles end up stuck into the ball of wool while I answer the door and listen to children who look at me with sticky faces and tell me about their adventures.

I think I am okay with this.

Doin it wrong

For those of you who are on the invitation blog - I have to apologize - I just deleted it. ARGH. So I had to restart - and lost a bit but not everything. And had to change the address - I have re-invited you. If you don't get an invite re-nudge me okay? This is why I need someone to help me administrate it! ARGH!

And I had to change the address... sorry. Again. sorry.

on being uninvited

Since the air was so fresh this morning I opened our front and back doors wide and let the breeze blow through. Sitting in my favorite place on the couch I saw from the corner of my eye a swish and thought it was Walter (the cat) coming in the front door.

Then another swish and I saw it was a huge black cat who had breached the boundaries and was heading into the center of Elliott world. I jumped up. Smacked my hands. Yelled "You! Interloper! Out!" The cat looked terrified and scooted back out the door.
I closed the front door behind it.

It made me think about what it feels like to be uninvited or unwelcome. We all have those experiences where we walk into a situation with tip toes and a sense that we might be yelled at to leave. Not literally of course.

We are uninvited when obvious friends keep talking and we just stand there, obviously unincluded, looking stupid. We are uninvited when no one makes eye contact. Or when we try to participate and no one notices or says a 'yes.' When someone is protecting their space we are uninvited.

What if we took on a disposition of inviting people into life as one of our regular practices. Even if we are not the official owner of the space.
Take a grocery store. We don't own the store, but we can still invite people in. Talk to them. Treat them humanly. Smile. Make space for them.

What if we tried that today. Just for fun. See what happens.

on what matters

So last night I scrolled down through a lot of my old blogs - it was a fascinating look in the mirror and I was interested to see what has mattered to me. Ever wonder what matters to you? Do you know?

Steve often says that other men have wives who wake up in the morning and want a new dress or want to go out for dinner. I wake up and say, "Are you sure God really exists?"

Stuff like that. Hard to answer at 6:15 in the morning, even WITH coffee.

I don't ask those questions because I am of little faith. Although that may well be true. I think actually I am of HUGE faith because I can't leave God, although sometimes I have to sit on the other side of the room than He. A friend told me a couple days ago that she and God are not talking. At all. I was able to assure her that He was all right with that.

I am reading a novel that has a moment when the boy who has only known terror and abuse has a sudden redemption that will affect all his life. The author wrote, "He was trying to discover some obscure figure in the carpet from the randomness of his own fate. It did not look like the work of God, but it might have represented the hand of a God with a joyous sense of humor, a dancing God who loved mischief as much as prayer and playfulness as much as mischief."

Now I don't know everything, or even some of everything. But I do know that God is full of some kind of ridiculous joy, is the one who tickles children in church and who lets us be any kind of mess we truly are. My questions are there because I really do believe.

invitation

I am toying with the idea of writing a blog for women, for women who are trying to figure out their faith and bodies and responsibilities and dreams. If you are interested in being invited to such a conversation, because I hope it would be a conversation, would you email me at marilyniva@gmail.com.

Put 'invitation' on the subject line. That's all you have to do. We'll see.