Better Together

This is a poem I wrote many moons ago (well, three to be precise) after a conference in North Carolina with a little group called b2g, short for "Better Together". It was also part of my friend Amy's and my journeys into community, a weekend that framed the experiences we were living in Charlottesville. Amy, thanks for recent talks reminding me of the roots of these Truths.

Better Together

Life on life. Breathing. Absorbing.
Experimenter. Toucher.
C’est quelque-chose qu’on partage avec un autre.
Dire: “Tu m’interesse.”
Ich möchte dich kennen lernen. Du bist mir wichtig.

You are worth risking heart, face, time, to get to know.

Irgendwie spiegelst du das Bildnis Gottes.
Not getting to know you, I mean truly getting to know you, begs the question:
"What part of God’s personality am I missing out on?"

Alison Krauss & Union Station

A friend of mine and I went to hear Alison Krauss & Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas last night. From old favorites to new favorites, it was "ein Ohren Schmauss" (ear's feast) as the Germans say.

The encore was haunting, an a capella rendition of "Down to the River to Pray" (haunting even in O Brother), and then "A Living Prayer":

In this world I walk alone
With no place to call my home
But theres one who holds my hand
The rugged road through barren lands

The way is dark the road is steep
But He's become my eyes to see
The strength to climb my griefs to bear
The Savior lives inside me there

In You're love I find release
A haven from my unbelief
Take my life and let me be
A living prayer my God to Thee

(Take my life and let me be a living prayer my God to Thee)

In these trials of life I find
Another voice inside my mind
He comforts me and bids me live
Inside the love the Father gives

It makes me wonder what it looks like for us to be "living prayers"...

Coffee with a Stranger

I was in Toronto for a conference this weekend. My friend and I were on our way to the first meeting, running late, dodging the Thursday evening crowds, when we saw her. There wasn’t anything particularly striking about her appearance. But she was sitting in the entrance of an apartment building. I looked. And I kept walking. I quickly forgot the woman. Six hours later, returning to our hotel, we found ourselves walking past the same spot.

While I recognized her immediately, the logic of what happened next unraveled in a halting, surreal, slow-motion. We walked by her, and it hit me that she was still where we had seen her last. Next the cold weather registered. Then something calculated the six hours and the thought of being out in this weather for that long. At the same instant the green-lit sign of Starbucks flashed into view from across the street. My friend and I were already a couple blocks down from her. We looked at each other and I read in her eyes a similar discomfort for the woman. “Do you feel like having a cup of coffee with her?” My friend was immediately game, and we were rushing back to the woman.

I don’t remember what we said to the woman to convince her to go with us, but the next moment we were inside the warmth of Starbucks, selecting our coffee drinks and apple cake. What I loved about the twenty minutes that followed was that it was like having coffee with an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while. This woman was at ease in a way I hadn’t expected. She received. And not just coffee and cake. We had forgotten napkins, and I got up to get us some. My friend helped give her directions to a street where the woman was going to look for a local shelter, and we then gave her our city map. None of it fazed her; she just politely thanked us. All I can say is that as she received, she allowed us to serve and share our own humanity. It didn’t draw attention to any of us, if that idea makes sense. My friend and I were no more benefactors towards her than she was in need of our benefaction. Everything seemed to work together in that moment to allow the three of us to talk: even the Starbucks employees who were closing up shop gave us leave to sit there while they cleaned up.

The woman shared her story. A lonely story of her common-law husband leaving town one day with all of her belongings. We learned of the frustrations and difficulties with the welfare system. Her broken family relationships. And when we finally left to allow the Starbucks to close, we wished her well and she enveloped both of us in a warm hug. Anyone looking on would have seen three friends parting. It was a miracle, an unexpected gift I had not expected to receive.

The cynic in me wonders whether all of this woman’s story is truth. My friend and I talked about it long after. We concluded that maybe it doesn’t matter. The story is superficial. What is deep is the humanity of the experience, having had the opportunity to peer into her face, to be touched by her both physically and emotionally, and to have shared twenty minutes of her journey. I can’t help but feel that the impact, if not for her, then at least for me, was significant.

I love Fall

Here is one of the reasons I wish fall lasted longer ... one of my friends and I took this picture on a recent walk.





Well, I'm off to Toronto (Cognitive Psychology conference... I know, I know, we graduate students have a rough life!) in 5 hours, so I'd better try and get some sleep! Stories to follow.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

Please read this poem thrice. And more if you have the heart to. It will take at least that to suck the marrow out of its meaning, to savor the themes of identity, purpose, community and God Incarnate. Ultimate the poem reminds us that we are the hands and feet of Christ.

The poem is by my favorite poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-89). One of my heroes of my Sweet Briar Days, Lisa, introduced me to him. I have cherished the introduction ever since, and his words have accompanied me through many seasons in the form of a slim little volume my brother and sister-in-law gave me many Christmases ago.

I promise that as you taste the words, turn them on your tongue, slowly allow them to dissolve, the meaning will become increasingly clear.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies, dráw fláme ;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring ; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name ;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same :
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells ;
Selves—goes itself ; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me : for that I came.

I say móre : the just man justices ;
Kéeps gráce : thát keeps all his goings graces ;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

Enlightenment from a Reading Group

I belong to a reading group. We’re seven, and since Friday nine, women who get together once a week and try to understand more about God by reading stories of the bible. I love these women, because each brings a refreshing perspective: We’re a mix of cultural and religious backgrounds, and there is something immensely satisfying about being pulled from my western Judeo-Christian perspectives to unpack the assumptions of what I believe, and trying to make sense of it all. I also enjoy the community that comes with sharing our hearts and wrestling with existential questions. You can’t talk about life and death, hopes and dreams, disappointments, the condition of the world, and not grow closer.

Last night we were reading the 10 commandments in the Old Testament collection of books. “Now there’s some riveting reading, Susan!” you might be thinking. That’s what I thought it would be like too, except that such a mindset underestimates the power of communitas. Every week I come away with a thrill and deeper understanding of what it means to encounter the Living God because of the questions and insights of my friends. I think I had come to terms with the fact that God doesn’t make sense. But then we talk about it, only to find that sometimes God does make sense, and in the most refreshing and surprising ways!

For instance, did you know that before God ever gives the commandments, God first establishes an exclusive relationship of love with the Hebrews? In Exodus 19, the dialogue goes something like this …

God: I rescued you from the abuse you suffered in Egypt as slaves because I’m crazy about you! I want you to be my one-and-only! Say yes to me?

Hebrews: You bet! Just tell us how to be in this relationship!

And lest you think I’m taking too much artistic license with my paraphrase, check out the NIV version:

'You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself. 5 Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, 6 you [a] will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.' These are the words you are to speak to the Israelites." …
8 The people all responded together, "We will do everything the LORD has said." So Moses brought their answer back to the LORD.

Our group likened the relationship between God and the Hebrews to a marriage, and it is in the context of this commitment, one to the other, that God then gives the commandments. Gone were images of a demanding God barking out orders to a lost group of stragglers. Rather, it is the groom and bride pledging to honor each other.

And this relational re-orientation continued to prove very important to our group. The very first commandment sets up the standard that God is to be “it” for the Hebrews. One of my dear friends in the group asked an excellent question: “Doesn’t God’s command about not having any other gods seem a bit harsh and exclusive in the face of other religions? Is God trying to say that Buddhism and Islam are wrong?” We decided that while the question is good, the context of this story won’t provide the answer. God is not making a judgment about other gods. God is making a statement about the marriage between God and the Hebrews. In essence, God wooed the Hebrews and they said “Yes” to God. They chose to be in a committed relationship with him. Now God says “if you sleep with anyone else, that’s a deal breaker.” It is into an established two-way relationship that these commands are given.

And the relational theme continues! We discovered that the first four commandments talk about the Hebrews’ relationship to God, the last six about the Hebrews’ relationship to each other. It’s all about protecting relationships!

Another friend remarked that this (im)balance of commandments, four for God, six for others, really touched her. That God would choose six to deal with how people are to get along with each other in essence showed a humility on God’s part. “Perhaps if we get along with each other, we are then able to get along with God” ventured another woman in the group. It was like gold nuggets of insight dropping from heaven all evening!

But why the necessity of the commandments? We talked about what the years of slavery would have done to this people group. Slavery: where abuse was the norm, looking out for number one and basic survival supreme. After years of living in this environment, the Hebrews would not have known how to be in loving relationships, with each other much less with God. They first had to be taught!

There was much more that was discussed. Our 45 minutes flew, and I left our time together with tears in my eyes because I felt in a deep way that I really want to be in relationship with this God of the Hebrews. A God who would do so much to rescue, then protect his beloved, providing her with a safe environment, teaching her how to have healthy relationships.

And even more on sparrows

I couldn't help but share this one. Sometimes Eugene Peterson cracks me up. Here's how he translates Matthew 10:29-31

29"What's the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. 30He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail--even numbering the hairs on your head! 31So don't be intimidated by all this bully talk. You're worth more than a million canaries.

I still like sparrows.

More on Sparrows

I have been informed that I need to explain the title of my blog more. I was perhaps a bit too cryptic in the first blog, but I was a bit pressed for time as well.

To understand the significance of "more than many sparrows" I should first tell you that God and I play a lot with each other. We have this relationship of inside jokes. Relational symbolism. It's comfortable and personal. The stone turquoise, the phrase "go home", children's songs, red buds, and now sparrows, they all hold ways in which God reminds me that God knows me intimately and has been there throughout the history of my short life.

Growing up in Vienna, Austria, I went through elementary school and middle school valuing sparrows. They're called "Spatz" in German, and even if you don't speak German, I think you can see how different "Spatz" sounds from "Sparrow". "Sparrow" sounds to me a bit noble, or elevated, or perhaps a bit plain and dull. But "Spatz" sounds mischievous, impudent. In fact, in German it evokes a teasing, playful nature. "Mein kleiner Spatz!" a mother might call her energetic daughter who comes tearing through the kitchen to briefly nestle against her, then run off again to chase a friend. And if you've ever seen a sparrow in action, you know how they flit around, jumping and twittering from a fencepost to a low-hanging branch, then off into the forest again.

In fact, my best friend growing up, Christoph, found a little sparrow on a school field trip we took in the Vienna Woods. Our class was so excited by the discovery! We had been collecting chestnuts, and instead of a prickly hull, had found the soft fuzzy grey of the baby sparrow. Christoph fed him mealworms faithfully, and nursed the poor little guy for several days before he succumbed to ill health. The little bird left a lasting impression on us, and we would visit his grave in Christoph's backyard ever so often, reminiscing about the day we found him.

So when I think of Spatz, this is what I remember and feel. This smallest of birds. In some ways I feel very much like a Spatz. One day recently I was afraid, facing a significant moment in my life and feeling unprepared. I remember sitting up in bed and hearing the sentence "I'm scared" escape from my lips. And then I did what most of us do if we are of the Bible-reading persuasion. And yet something we tend to not recommend doing. I flipped my Bible open at will and read the first sentence my eyes rested on. It's not supposed to, but it works every time for me.

"So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

I began reading the context; and it was this personal exchange between God and me. You should also know that I've recently had significant hair loss (I'm hoping it's just a seasonal thing) and so when I got to "even the very hairs of your head are all numbered" I started chuckling. "Susan, you are not going to fall outside my will. Not going to happen. I take care of those little birds, don't you think I'll take care of you? My little Spatz, I love you. Don't be scared. I've got my hands gently around you, carrying you like Christoph carried the little bird home so long ago. You are so valuable to me."

So the title of this blog is a reminder to me that I'm Somebody's Spatz. And that I have worth. So much worth. And that I don't need to be scared. It's a reminder that each one of us is worth more than many sparrows to God.

Why the blog? Why the title?

So my motivations in starting this blog are several-fold:

1) Friends have been urging me to find a square of cyberspace to call my own (thanks Amy!).
2) I might just want to share some of my thoughts with the world (or at least my friends).
3) I have many friends who do not allow anonymous posts, meaning that if I want to post on their blogs, I have to have my own. This was the straw that broke my camel's back, and hence the blog.

So where does the title come from? Matthew 10:31. A funny little story about birds. And more than birds. I encourage you to check it out.