Focus

Magritte, Le Faux Miroir. Photo taken at MoMA

I recently read an article on the effects of screentime on our eyes. (Ironically, I read the article online!) As someone who has experienced myopia (nearsightedness), and who reads (and writes) daily, I appreciate the gift of focus.

I was reminded of the 20-20-20 rule. My optometrist once advised, every 20 minutes of reading, focus on something at least 20 feet away for at least 20 seconds. It gives the eyes the opportunity to rest and adjust – not unlike taking a pause between reps in weight lifting, our eyes do better when they have that change and rest.

I enjoy those moments of different focus – they allow my horizons to broaden for the short time – to appreciate the crow in the tree or the cloud formations, to see the people walking past, to let my mind wander over the information I’ve been considering. And, upon returning to the task at hand, I find I often have a renewed focus and often additional perspectives as I incorporate whatever I’ve just seen a distance away.

If we extrapolate from the physical benefits of a temporary re-focus, we can consider how we perceive and view our daily lives. Are we focusing too long on one challenge, and missing out on other opportunities? Is our scope too limited and could benefit from widening the lens? Might we appreciate the centre of our attention if we consider it from a different angle?

This invitation to a renewed or extended focus can apply to our relationships, our work, our ministries – even our faith. God is constantly gifting us with new ways to perceive the world around us, and our privilege in participating within the creation. God is always showing us new things and new ways to experience joy; and giving us new opportunities to extend love. May we open our eyes to the potential of each new day as another chance to focus on God’s ever-expanding love. 

The Rules of the Game

Screenshot from Winnipeg Jets Facebook page

It’s playoff season for NHL hockey fans – when we spend crazy amounts of time and energy watching our teams battle it out in ‘best of seven’ rounds to see who will take home the cup. It’s a season of loud cheering, heightened disappointments, and lots of gear. (Winnipeg Jets fans are treated to the possibility of new ‘Whiteout' gear every time we make the playoffs!)

In the playoffs, however, there are some changes – the rules of the game shift slightly – but importantly – from the rules during regular season. Overtime is played differently: rather than the (regular season) five-minute period of 3-on-3 prior to a shootout, in the playoffs teams that are tied after 60 minutes will continue in 20-minute periods of sudden-death play.

The rules change; yet everyone knows the rules have changed – and so the players, the coaches, the fans – everyone knows what to expect. It’s a change – but it’s a fair change.

In life, sometimes our interactions and relationships function based on established norms – our social contract with each other. Sometimes these norms are formalised, sometimes they’re understood. Our interactions have a better chance to be positive and constructive when we are sure that we’re all clear on these norms, and communicate if we encounter different understandings or applications.

Yet, these norms can also change; for example, as children mature they take on more responsibility and accountability, or should the nature of relationships shift from friendship to romance, or an external change that impacts family members in different ways, etc.

While changes in our interactions are inevitable, it is incredibly important to ensure that everyone is aware of the change of norms – to avoid creating an imbalance in the relationship that could lead to friction. In life, we want for things to be as smooth and fair as possible; and while this requires individual and corporate accountability and responsibility, it also depends on everyone ‘playing fair’.

So, like the playoffs, we can keep our connections healthy and balanced with a little bit of understanding. It’s good to know what the parameters of our connections are, and to know – and fully understand – when they change. Whether it’s the playoffs, or our workplaces, or our friend groups, we should always feel confident in knowing that we’re all following the same rules.

An oblation

I have a friend with a to-do list that is overwhelming her, to the extent that she can’t seem to get started on any of it. I don’t know if it’s from not knowing where to start, or feeling that just one little bit is too little, so why bother.

It can happen to any of us; it can happen at any time – and that’s okay.

To help my friend out, last weekend I offered to do a couple of the things on her list. I had the time, and it helped her out. She gratefully accepted my offer.

Yet, a week later, the final step of those tasks remains undone… it’s the part that I can’t do for my friend. So the outcome of my efforts is (literally) just sitting there.

And: for me, that’s okay. It’s not what I would have done, or what I would have wanted her to do, but that’s not my decision. I made good on my offering.

I could have gotten upset by it; I could have felt my efforts were wasted; I could have interpreted my friends’ inactions as an insult.

But they’re not. It’s still just part of the overwhelmingness of that to-do list. And, when my friend is ready, those things will still be waiting for her.

For an offering is not intended to be transactional, and it’s not meant to be dependent on someone else’s response. It’s simply doing what we can, as we are able. And we do well to remember that the outcome of our offering may not be what we desire or in our timeline – for we only have control over what we offer, not how it is received.

Sometimes, our offering can become something far greater than we anticipate – and sometimes we may never see the results. It’s the nature of oblation.

And so, we offer: to our dear ones, to our communities, to strangers, and (most importantly) to God. For in offering we use what has already been given to us, in ways that can continue to extend care and connection with one another.

Easter Joy

I was recently gifted a bouquet of flowers from dear friends; a vibrant bouquet of many colours – very obviously dyed flowers. They lasted quite some time; but as the days progressed, the water began to turn an interesting shade of icky – as the dye was emerging from the stems back into the water. Some of the colours lasted longer than others; the pink were the least resilient, the orange and yellow endured longer.

The flowers were real; the colours were not authentic. Regardless; they were intended to bring joy, and they did!

The joy of Easter could be considered like these flowers… Easter is a time of joy and celebration. And whatever our traditions and experiences, we can find joy in our lives and we can share joy in our world.

But the nature of the joy may differ greatly; as for some the days will be full of short-lived and engineered happiness: the egg hunts will end, the sugar highs will wear off, the perfect (?) meal will eventually be done (and even the leftovers eaten), the matching-outfit photo shoot will provide a great memory of one day.
These things are like the dye in the flowers – meant to enhance a holiday, but recognised for the earthly delights that they are.

The true joy of the season, however, will remain with us. As our spiritual lives bloom like flowers, for all the world to see. The authentic joy of the Resurrection does not need enhancements or augmentations, for it endures forever.

So as we return to the Alleluias and embrace this glorious season of Easter, let’s also remember that we are Easter people – living the authentic and awe-inspiring reality of the Risen Christ that brings joy (more than we can ask or imagine!) to every one, every day.

dis/connected

I was at a busy retail store this week when the checkout line halted; apparently the internet had gone down. This meant that no debit or credit orders could be processed. 

The staff were doing the best they could, as each machine needed to be restarted individually. Overall it was a minor inconvenience, as the situation was able to be remedied in a few minutes. 

It was interesting to see the reactions of people, though, to the temporary disconnect. This temporary setback was only a few short minutes, and some folks were frustrated, a few were exasperated or angry, some looked for other solutions (putting items on hold or finding cash).

The majority of people recognised that this was just an unfortunate pause in their day, and accepted the staffs apologies for the inconvenience of this momentary blip. 

The experience highlighted our societal dependence on that electronic connection. It's something we often take for granted... But we powerfully notice when it's not there. 

Our spiritual connection with God can be like this, too. We expect it to be there, we rely on it to be constant and strong, yet we don't always give as much thought to it as we should... Until it falters or temporarily goes down. 

And our reactions, when we feel that disconnect, can vary as much as the shoppers at that store, with fluctuating levels of indignance and frustration and patience. 

Unlike the internet, however, our connection with God is within our control. It is our privilege and responsibility to maintain that connection; we decide the level of connection we wish. 

Though our spiritual connection benefits  from our attention at all times, this season of Lent invites us to be intentional about strengthening that bond. Through prayer and meditation, acts of self-sacrifice and acts of service, worship and study, Lent is a time when we can re-start our own systems to ensure they are able to withstand the busyness of life.

So as we transition today into Holy Week, perhaps we can consider our own spiritual connections (and disconnections). How do we react when we feel disconnected from God? How about when we feel most connected? How often do we consider these experiences? 

And most importantly; if our reflections on our connection doesn't match up with what our aspirations are, what actions can we take to bring those places closer together?

We are always in some ways connected and disconnected from God; and God always invites us to strengthen the connection. I pray this Holy Week (and beyond!) we can all appreciate and protect the connections that matter.