Birthday Cake Alone

My birthday cake this year was a Mrs. Field’s Chocolate Chip Cookie that I ate alone in my hotel room.

Cry me a river. Boo hoo!

ABSOLUTELY NOT!! That chocolate chip cookie, alone in my hotel room, capped the best birthday I have ever had.

(Disclaimer - I was attending a conference that day and the leadership and attendees recognized my birthday and had a small party for me and one of the organization’s leaders celebrating a birthday on the same day that included cake and cupcakes. I never ate any because I was too busy visiting. The recognition is much appreciated - sugar rush or not.)

I am not someone who enjoys getting much attention on his birthday. Well-wishes and greetings are welcome, but anything that draws much attention is not. For many years, I would invite some friends to dinner and treat them without ever letting them know it was my birthday. Their company was the gift I sought.

This year, I attended a pastor/seminarian workshop and enjoyed a worship service in The First Baptist Church of the United States (and when they say first - they mean it!). I do not qualify in either category, but the idea of spending a day in spiritual discussion attracted me. It also happened to be sponsored by an organization I have supported since discovering - AWAB: The Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists. The topics and ideas that stuck with me have provided ample food for thought for the next few months. I went into the day, knowing that I valued and respected the opinions of the people present.

I exited the day valuing and respecting the opinions of the people present even more than I expected.

As enjoyable as the educated thought and discourse was, the disconnect from technology and the interaction with individuals in a small enough setting to connect with them, enhanced the spiritual renewal of the day. Many of the deep and sincere discussions connected to questions I had been pondering while seeking to reconcile my personal feelings with my social-justice theology. None of the conversations resolved any of the theological questions, but they provided fodder for my meditation and writing for some time.

The location for the event set the mood for contemplation nicely. Spending a day in a building 199 years old and worshipping in a building 238 years old (for a congregation celebrating 375 years years together) forces you to consider a broader span than we normally contemplate. Holy places draw us in, safely, opening us to more than we could get elsewhere. Even the grounds around the sanctuary for the buildings presented a holy feel.

Following the worship service, I arrived back at my hotel, bounding with energy. As I sat at the desk reading the email, Twitter, and Facebook birthday well-wishes, I indulged in the cookie and rejoiced at the day I had.

Blood, Bug Bites, and Dirt Under My Nails

         I know spring has arrived when I get the irresistible urge to trim the shrubs in my yard and till the soil in my garden. It has nothing to do with the swelling buds and greening grass and lengthening days: it is about whacking bushes and hacking at dirt.

         I know spring has arrived when my arms are bloody and covered with scratches, my ankles itch from fire-ant bites, and my muscles are so sore I can barely get out of my recliner to eat or do any of the myriad chores required around a house on a given day. It has nothing to do with flowers blooming and birds singing, and warming afternoons (we had those all winter – it is Texas after all): it is about blood, bug bites, and dirt under my nails.

         The arrival of spring comes a bit differently for those of us who are connected to the land. The pleasantness of the season comes from a much deeper place than just the arrival of better weather and the return to life. For me, spring allows me to become more involved with the earth, producing fruitful bounty from the garden. I watch physical change take place through the course of my labors. For a person whose career focuses far more on mental labor than physical labor, such physical exertion and reward provides a dramatically different sense of satisfaction.

         At my job it may take years before I see any tangible result of the work I have done.

         In my garden it only takes weeks before I get to enjoy the tangible results of the work I have done.

         When I experience the results of my job, I know I have done a good thing.

         When I experience the results of my physical labor, I taste a good thing.

         This year the irresistible urge to pull out the garden shears corresponds with the beginning of Lent. The coinciding of the time for spiritual rebirth and growth with the time of rebirth and growth in the natural world (in the northern hemisphere) today helped me have the alone time I need to focus on both physical and spiritual growth of the season.

         As I trimmed the shrubs I noticed how the trimming from previous years led to more lush plants. Just below the previous cut two or more sprouts had come forth. Cutting those, led to even more sprouts. Lent reminds me that I too need to be trimmed. Removing some of the clutter that clogs my mind and consumes my energy frees my mind to take up a new spiritual discipline.

         The cutting away does not just remove; it allows for adding on.

         One shrub, one I treat most harshly when it comes to the trimming, was this year the tallest in my garden. I cut it to the ground each year hoping it will die because it does not make a very attractive plant. It has beautiful blooms in that brief period of summer when it does bloom; the rest of the time it is a gangly overreaching bush. Perhaps it is fittingly called “esperanza.”

         Translated to English, esperanza (Spanish), means hope, expectation, promise, anticipation, and confidence.

         Isn’t that just like hope – to be so resilient? Despite being easily thrown away hope keeps coming back. During the season of Lent as I seek to renew my spirit and come even closer to God, I want to grow my hope. It may not be the prettiest gift around, but it helps me through when so many other qualities are found wanting.

         A little more time digging in the dirt and shaping the plants in my yard are just what my garden needs. Those are the same things my spirit needs.

Holiday Minimalism

         As Thanksgiving approaches, whether to decorate for Christmas or not has reentered my internal discussion. I have a miniature tree I decorated a few years ago that I stick in the closet each year on Epiphany and pull out sometime after Thanksgiving. I used to decorate each room (including each bathroom) with a theme/color for that room. Lately, I have considered such effort a waste of time and resources.

         One miniature fake tree.

         One stocking.

         That has been all. I went from excess to extreme minimalism.

         I do not throw a huge holiday party (since someone squeezed my toothpaste – totally another story). Not many people come through my house during the holiday season, so little reason exists for me to go to the effort of decorating to any extreme. I do not enjoy the decorations personally; they are just too energetic for my personality.

         I am that bland.

         This year, though, I have a roommate and maybe I should do something more festive to make him feel better about his first year away from his family at the holidays. After all, I have boxes of goodies for decoration in storage in my garage.

         Unfortunately, I would have to take it down later.

         Even though the work involved takes time I do not have, something about this holiday season has me looking forward to it. In years past I truly enjoyed getting into all the decorations and that spark in the back of my mind flickers now and then.

         I just hope that the giant snake that sometimes crawls around my garage has not bedded up in any of the decoration boxes for the winter.