Smitten for Mittens

Screenshot of the Bernie picture from CNBC.com

Social media has been rather enthusiastic this week about a pair of mittens - they belong to Bernie Sanders, and he wore them at the US Presidential inauguration. If you've not seen them, you've likely not been on the internet this week!

The story behind them is lovely - he was gifted them by Jen Ellis, a constituent who recycles and upcycles materials into mittens. She's a working mom who does this on the side, and was apparently surprised by the sudden popularity.

But obviously, these mittens have meaning for the wearer. He chose them for a reason (not just warmth and practicality!). He attached value to them that goes beyond the proverbial price tag.

We all do this: we all have things that mean much to us because of their backstory. That overworn-and-too-small child's hat that Grandma knitted, or the dog-eared book that was part of a grand adventure with friends. We attribute a higher meaning to things that have conveyed love.

Our faith is similar; we attach different meanings to various objects (the family bible, the confirmation gift) and to certain spaces (the pew a widow sat in with her husband for 40+ years, or the sound of the pealing bells that drew us to worship). Certain prayers will transport us back to a time when we felt closest to God's grace, a passage of scripture can reinvigorate a key moment in our faith development. They have more value for us because they have brought us to the source of all love. They don't become a god for us, but they remind us of our ongoing relationship with God.

We add value to those things that have brought us closer to God, those times that have enriched our faith, those spaces that have been a pathway for our spiritual journey.

So... what has meaning for you? How do those objects remind you of your faith and inspire you in your ministry?

And... what have you shared with others that may become a reminder of your involvement in their faith journey?

 

Living Your Best Life

     I took a class in the fall that included a bunch of reading, and discussion. While there was much involved (tests, analyses, etc.), I jokingly nick-named it “Book Club for Credit” – and that stuck.
     As we gathered (on Zoom) to dissect the deeper meaning of that week’s reading, one of our foci was on the characters: who would we write a letter to, and what would it say? One of my classmates tended to pick the most emotionally-balanced character, and said “I feel that [name] is just living their best life!” Our analysis would then go into how and why that person was, and how and why the other characters were not.
     It got to be a bit of a joke – by about we would ask “So who is living their best life in this book?” It was lovely. (I quite miss those classes, to be honest!)
     The idea can be transferred, however, to our own lives. I would recommend we refrain from making such analyses of our friends and neighbours, as we do not have the same exposure to their lives as authors grant us into the lives of fictional characters in books. 
     But we can ask ourselves at the end of each day: How am I living my best life? Not in comparing ourselves to others, but in celebrating the reality of our beautiful and unique experiences each day?
     I can be quite reflective, and quite revealing… and maybe we can take it one step further. Imagine waking up each morning and thinking: “today I can live my best life – by doing X and Y and Z!” And maybe that will happen, and maybe it won’t, but at least we’ve tried.
     I imagine that if we start our days by deciding that it can be a good day, then we can make it a good day. It doesn’t mean that the rest of the world will be all rainbows and butterflies – but it allows us to focus our perspectives on making our day a good day - one day at a time. 
     So… how are you going to live your best life today?
 
Rom 15.13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Feedback

"Writing"
CC BY-SA by ThroughKiksLens 
Source: Flickr

      I was involved in a series of discussions this week for a project I’m working on. In this group, each of us shared something we have written, with the purpose of receiving feedback. 
      Asking for feedback can be daunting. We are putting out into the world something that we have made, created, put time and effort into – and we hope that it will be good enough. But the feedback process itself can be intimidating, because we know that sometimes instead of critique, we receive criticism.
      I think there’s a distinct difference: feedback that is meant to be helpful and constructive is intended to improve, to strengthen the offering of our colleagues to the world, is a critique. Feedback for the sake of putting someone else down, of insulting their work, is a criticism. 
Our tone and words matter a lot in this process, for example: “I think if you clarify this sentence it would enhance your point” is kinder than “this sentence doesn’t make sense”; it offers a suggestion with a purpose rather than just rejecting what’s there.
      Feedback is an important part of writing, but it’s also an important part of life. We exist in a constant feedback loop, with our words and actions and even facial expressions and body language. How we respond to those around us reflects not only what we think of the other, but also a bit about how we see the world. For if we only seek out the negative, and complain without aiming to help or empower, we are caught in a criticism loop; which can be isolating and inhospitable. 
      But if we take a moment to try and help, and enhance one another, we are building up a safe space to try, an open space to share, a helpful space to grow. A space of critique (when asked for!) can be a space of healthy Christianity. 
      Ephesians 4.29: Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.
      May we all strive to be ambassadors for grace!

The TBR

    I am a bookworm, an avid reader. Sometimes I read literature, sometimes I read fluff. But I read – pretty much daily! And the basis of many conversations I have with friends has to do with books. 
    As such, one of the realities in my life is the TBR – the “To Be Read” bookpile. Or bookshelf. Or… if I’m honest, book case! I could go for a year without buying a book, or borrowing from the library (ah, the blissful library!) and still meet my average of 10 books a month. 
    While I enjoy collecting books, I also enjoy passing them along; I’m more into tsundoku (a Japanese word for the TBR) than bibliomania (an obsession with books, to the extent of damaging social relationships).  
    For me, my bookshelves speak about my relationships: some have been gifts, some recommendations, some follow-ups to conversations. Some remind me of adventures with friends, or of educational experiences, or of book club ideas yet to put into practice. I have fiction and poetry, non-fiction and biography, thrillers and lots of theology! And there’s always – always – a Bible on my TBR. Because that is a part of my daily reading, and re-reading – and there’s always something new to be found in its pages. 
    As I set my “reading challenge” goals again this year (I belong to several book groups), I realised that I’ve never included the Bible in my reading trackers… not because I don’t enjoy it, or want to share it – quite the opposite! I don’t count it because I’m never done reading it: unlike the mysteries or histories or even the adventure books that are re-reads. It’s always in the TBR section, because for me it’s a way of life. 
    So what are you reading this year? Can I suggest the Bible?

 "‘Tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are’ is true enough, but I’d know you better if you told me what you reread."

~François Mauriac