two ears, one mouth

I heard somewhere that God gave us two ears and one mouth so that we could listen more than we speak. That's not exactly in the Bible, but this is:

My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

James 1:19-20

Have you ever noticed someone not really listening to you, but rather waiting for their turn to speak? Or have you ever been "listening" to someone, but actually formulating what you were going to say next, or wishing they would finish so you could get your turn?

For me it's yes on both counts. I can't do much about the first one, but I can about the second. It's not easy, though!

There's that prayer attributed to Francis of Assisi, which includes this:

O, Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek ... to be understood as to understand...

Of course he prayed that because he needed help from the Lord; it's not an easy thing. If it were easy, why pray it -- and why would it resonate so much with us centuries later?

So then, to be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger, as James says -- this is a good thing, but we need help -- which calls for prayer. Besides praying, we can also try to be aware. (We can pray for help in that, too: "Lord, help me to be aware of it when I'm not really listening." He is delighted to help with that!) And suppose I do become aware of when I'm not really listening... what then? I've got to surrender my desire to be understood. I've got to crucify the demand that others listen to me. I've got to become less selfish, in other words.

Yow -- yet more prayer needed for that one! Fortunately, what's impossible for a man is no problem for our Lord.

Sweet hour of prayer

So after dinner, Carol asked me to play the piano while she worked on the dishes. After a couple dozen songs, mostly hymns (which I played one-handed 'cause I really cannot sight-read) I came upon this one. The 2^nd verse in our book (the 3^rd one here) is:

Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To Him whose truth and faithfulness
Engage the waiting soul to bless.
And since He bids me seek His face,
Believe His Word and trust His grace,
I’ll cast on Him my every care,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

Reading those words, I was, as they say, convicted. I don't pray as much as I "want to" or should. Because after spending some time in prayer, I often say, "Why didn't I do that earlier?"

I think it's because I'm just too silly most of the time.

joy day

I was looking for my long lost Apple® iPod Shuffle^™ this morning, and I found it in my briefcase. This was a great relief because I'm going to India in a few weeks, and there will be two 12-hour flights. So the day was off to a good start.

The younger teen and I drove to our church's north campus. I had an assignment to fill in for someone in the "connections center" who called in sick. We heard a great sermon, then I stood behind the table at the connections center....

"Is there anything here about the Guatemala missions trip?" someone asked. I knew I'd seen something like that...

"Ah-HA!" I cried, pouncing upon the stack of information sheets. "When somebody asks something and I actually know the answer, well, I tell ya, that's a good day," I said. We had a nice if brief chat.

A familiar face appeared. John, our senior pastor, was traveling almost-incognito. Well, he didn't have a mask or anything, but he wasn't wearing a tie -- not even long sleeves.

"Are you new here?" I asked.

He gave me a grin. "I'm new here," he said. Usually he hangs out at the main campus in Menlo Park.

"We've got a great sermon for you today," I told him. "I think you'll like it."

"I know there's a great one this week!" he replied. (John's wife, Nancy, gave the sermon this weekend.)

Carol was teaching something at the "main campus" (which is why she didn't come with us to the north campus). Anyway, we drove down to the main campus -- the younger teen drove (we are making good progress toward however many hours she needs in order to get licensed). She went to her strive group, and I went to hear Carol's training thing.

I sat with Carol on a couch while the first speaker did her part. It was about listening, and though she did talk a little about techniques, she first talked about how you have to have the DESIRE to listen, the COMMITMENT to do so whether you feel like it or not, and the PATIENCE not to jump in too soon with advice or whatever. We were supposed to do an exercise. The speaker wanted us to pair up, but she looked at us and said, "I see you snuggling over there; you can't be partners for this."

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

After a while, it was time to pick up the younger teen from her Strive group. We stopped by the store, where I picked up some meat. Last night we had 20-25 people over for an event. I put lots of rice (LOTS of rice) into the rice cooker, so I'm feeling the urge to use up the left-over rice.

We got home, and I cut up sausage, sliced some cabbage really thin, and made some fried rice for a snack. Here's the deal.

• Shred
  • ¼ head of cabbage
  and set aside.
• Take about
  • ½ a hot dog's worth of sausage
  and slice/dice/whatever. Make little pieces out of it.
• Pour
  • oil
  into a wok on high heat, then stir-fry
  • the shredded cabbage
  reserved above.
• Add the
  • chopped sausage
  and continue stir-frying.
• Break
  • an egg
  into the wok and continue stir frying.
• Add
  • cooked rice to taste
  (maybe a cup or two) and continue stir-frying.
• Sprinkle
  • soy sauce
  sparingly and continue stir frying until the fried rice is warmed throughout.

That makes 1-2 servings. Of course you can add whatever else you want. (You could use ½ head of cabbage if it's a small one.)

I ate some, and offered some to the younger teen. We finished it off quite nicely, thank you. I put some chili on, following two different recipes (I'm not going to reproduce them here; too lazy). Chili+rice is a favorite Hawaiian treat.

I can smell the chili from the kitchen. I have a beer in the fridge, my younger teen is here in the den with me, the lovely Carol is home (taking a nap), the older teen is coming home Wednesday evening, and my parents are coming tomorrow evening.

Happy day!

a hard-headed woman... and special topics in calamity physics

Part of what I'm doing this weekend when the lovely Carol is gone... is something she's been after me to do: transfer the content of old vinyl records into digital form so we can burn CDs. The sound quality of a 128kb/s MP3 file is adequate, given the quality of most of these originals, which we left behind in 1993 when we went to Japan and for the most part haven't played since.

One of the records, "Tea for the Tillerman," has "Hard-Headed Woman," and I especially like this part:

I'm looking for a hard-headed woman
One who will make me do my best
And if I find a hard-headed woman
I know my life will be blessed

Proverbs 18:22 (sort of)
as paraphrased by Cat Stevens

That is something about being married to the lovely Carol: she spurs me to growth. Hearing this song, and thinking about his rendition of "Morning Has Broken," I wonder if Cat Stevens was a Christian -- oh, I see from this article in Wikipedia that he converted to Islam in 1977; wonder if he was before.

This afternoon I decided to prepare some food for the next few days. I bought and quartered a chicken, browned it, then added saké, shoyu, ginger, garlic, green onions, sesame oil and simmered for a while. In a separate vessel (a wok) I stir-fried (sorta) a heap of baby bok choy, added some oyster sauce and some shiitake , then some cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Very nice if I do say so myself.

I picked up Special Topics in Calamity Physics at the library -- I'm not sure why. The title was intriguing for sure. I quickly ran out of interest and skipped toward the back. Whoa -- there is a BIG surprise there, and something really surprising about the relationship between the protagonist and her father. Now I see I will have to return to the beginning (basically the whole book is a flashback) but I've got to see how it turns out.

Bodily fluids. Retail therapy.

"Wow! People with high hemoglobin like you should consider donating double red cells."

Though I only had snacks for dinner last night and just a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, my numbers apparently impressed the nurse at the blood center. (Now that I'm over 50, married with teen-agers... only now do I discover these little secrets of How To Impress Women.) She explained that if someone needs two units' worth of red cells, it's better to get it from one person than from two, as it reduces the risk of (literal) bad blood. Better, in other words, to get those cells from me than from me and from someone else.

OK, that sounds pretty good. I can only do this every 16 weeks (rather than every 8 as with "regular" donations), but let's face it, I'm not going in every 8 weeks. I had a little anxiety about plasma going back into my bloodstream after some red cells were filtered out. I read their literature and it seemed reasonable. I was getting ready to sign up.

But then came the big disappointment: I'm underweight. That's right, even at 120 pounds, I wouldn't qualify; I'm (literally) a lightweight. I have to get up to 130 pounds, which is not something I'm ever planning to do. Too bad, because they supply you with a movie while they filter your blood (or I could bring my own). Multitasking opportunity!

Hurmpf. Underweight introverts get no respect.

---

I stopped by the parts store afterwards. It was on Old County, not on Industrial as I had thought. I got there about 5 minutes before closing time (noon), and talked to the guy. He was very excited about the idea of being done for the day. "Hey, lock the doors up, dude!" he called.

The phone rang. The clock showed 11:58, and he put the caller on hold. "Are you gonna put him on hold for 2 minutes and then tell him you're closed?" I asked. He gave me a grin -- I could tell the idea intrigued him, but he was a nice guy; he wouldn't do that.

I was buying a timer for my clothes dryer. "About a hundred bucks?" I asked him.

"A hundred, and ninety-one," he said.

I was alarmed. "191 bucks??" I was not quite in the soprano range.

"A hundred dollars and ninety-one cents," he said. Okay, that's cool.

He offered me a lifetime warranty for another $15. Well, maybe not. "It'll be here Tuesday."

---

Though I'm an introvert (afterwards I went to the library to pick up a movie or book -- ended up getting one of each), it's more important to me than I'd thought it was to talk to someone once in a while. Yeah, there's email and facebook -- but electronically mediated interactions are just not the same as face-to-face.

So I am developing a little sympathy or at least understanding around the concept of "retail therapy." Giving blood you get to talk to someone. Talking to the guy at the parts counter, ditto. Going to Costco -- ah, methinks that wouldn't fall into the same category.

And I guess that's what's behind the coffee/tea-house outreach concept. I think that's something worth giving my time to at some point. Maybe once the nest is empty.

Growth hurts

For most of my life, I have avoided confrontation. Rather than confront burglars in the house, isn't it better to lock the door? Of course, not all confrontations are quite so clear-cut. The burglar knows he's doing something wrong, or if he doesn't, he at least knows he could be caught by the police or by an unexpected homeowner.

I don't like telling people they're doing something wrong; I'd rather they pay attention and not mess things up in the first place. On the other hand, when I mess things up, and if I'm liable to keep doing so, I want my friends and family to tell me.

So why am I afraid to tell people stuff -- the kind of stuff I wish they'd tell me when I need it? Probably it's for the same reason people are afraid to tell me; they're afraid I won't take it well, that I'll give them a bunch of guff. And of course sometimes they're right, although I hope I do that less often, now that I'm less young and less foolish than I used to be.

I have two things to think about now:

1. I need to
   • be willing to accept corrective feedback, and
   • invite people to give me that corrective feedback
2. I need to offer such feedback appropriately

Which reminds me of Ezra 7:10, which says:

For Ezra had devoted himself to the study and observance of the Law of the Lord, and to teaching its decrees and laws in Israel.

My tendency has been to do a little of the first, and less of the second.

Well, what's the problem with that, anyway? It's not that I won't get to heaven; rather, it's that I won't grow as much as I can and should. Will it hurt? Golly, it hurts my stomach already just thinking about a conversation I have to have soon.

I'll let you know how it goes.

What does the gospel promise?

We had dinner last night with some friends, including a couple who don't share our faith. At one point, I mentioned something I read in Yancey's Reaching for the Invisible God: the good news that I'm already forgiven and that I will one day be made perfect.

This caught the ear of the non-Christian husband, who asked me to explain about being made perfect, and for a brief second I wished I'd been reviewing my Scriptures more frequently. I came up immediately with Philippians 1:6, the one about how the one who began working in "you" (which I take to include me) will complete it. As I was talking, verses from Romans 8 came to mind -- those ones that talk about how those he foreknew he predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, i.e., predestined to become like Jesus (how's that for good news?) and how God will use everything to accomplish that goal. I explained about how I want to be a better person, kinder, more patient, courageous, tolerant, gentle, etc., and how there is this huge gap, but God has promised....

The Christian husband reinforced this, mentioning that whatever God starts, he's obviously going to complete (an intuitively appealing concept), and pretty soon offered to lend a copy of Wright's Simply Christian... which was accepted.

I was recounting this to the younger teen, and I remembered a passage from 1 Thessalonians 5 -- may your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of the Lord Jesus; he who calls you is faithful and he will do it. Yes!

Oddly enough, contrary to what I sometimes hear about, there is no guarantee that God will give us tons of money, a big house, or a fancy car. But all that stuff, versus becoming the kind of person that God wants me to be? No contest!